Again, I hadn't meant to continue this. But again, I was in the middle of writing another request when this popped into my head and I had to write it.

In case it isn't clear, this takes place 2 days after Leo's death, whereas the last chapter was a month after.


"Behind you, Don!"

The tall turtle spun quickly, but wasn't fast enough to get his bō up in time to—

"Ah!"

The thug was suddenly flung into the wall, courtesy of an impressive kick by the turtle in blue. Don could only blink in surprise at how fast his brother had moved. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Thanks Leo."

The elder nodded, quickly scanning the room for any remaining enemies. His eyes landed on Mikey who knocked the last of the thugs unconscious.

"Looks like that's all of them." Don noted triumphantly.

"For now." Leo glared at the thug by his feet, noting the phone jutting from his jean pocket. "Even if they didn't send for reinforcements, there's bound to be more on the way to check their shipment. We'll have to move fast." Sheathing his swords, he glanced around the room once more. "Where's Raph?"

"Took off after that group that ran down the alley." Mikey piped in, flipping over the crates of weaponry to land beside his brothers. "Probably beating them into a puddle of purple-dragon mush by now. He seemed pretty cranky. Or… more so than usual."

Don saw Leo frown as he followed Mikey's gaze out the back door. The irritated sigh that split their leader's lips almost made Don smile; it wouldn't be a mission if Raph wasn't doing something to annoy Leo.

"I told him not to leave."

The worry in his tone drained the smile from Don's face. "You think it was a trap?"

"Or at least a distraction. They may be trying to separate us until reinforcements arrive." Leo sighed again. "He'll never learn."

A large clap of thunder made Mikey jump, grabbing Leo's arm in mock-fright. "Dude… I think Raph heard you! He's sending the rain to smite you!"

Leo didn't seem to notice Mikey's quip, shaking his brother off as he turned to the door. "You two stay here in case the Dragons return." The irritation in his voice was unmasked. "I'll go get Raph."

"Leo," Don stopped his brother, peering uneasily at him. "You sure you don't want help?" Something was clearly bothering him. Whether it was a gut feeling or a dangerous vibe, one thing was for certain, Leo felt something was off. And Leo's instincts were never to be ignored.

If Raph was in trouble, Don wanted to be there.

But the leader shook his head. "I'm sure. Just make sure Mikey doesn't touch the weapons and accidently blow himself up."

Both brothers looked to their youngest who was quick to drop the semi-automatic he'd been holding, folding his hands behind his back in innocence. "I was only looking!"

Don rolled his eyes.

"I'll be quick. Start loading the weapons into the Shellraiser. And Don," The purple-masked turtle turned, noting the hint of worry in his leader's demeanour. "Keep your cell on. If trouble shows up, call immediately. Got it?"

"I know." Don nodded. He watched his brother turn away reluctantly and couldn't tell who it was the leader was worried about, them or Raph. But either way, something was up.

Staring at his brother's shell as he left, Don shrugged his shoulders. If it were something they needed to be worried about, Leo'd have said something. For now…

Leo could handle it.

A tremble overtook Don's body, forcing him to pull away from his needle so as not to damage anything. He couldn't stop picturing Leo's shell as he'd walked away. Couldn't stop thinking about how odd it had been to hear Leo worried. But how could he have known Leo would be…

He'd felt something was off. But it was the tiniest sliver of a feeling. A slight twinge buried in the back of his mind that was no more worrisome or noticeable than the desire to blink.

How could he have...

Don shook his head. It was foolish to think of such things. What happened, happened. There was nothing they could do to change it now.

Nothing he could do.

Nothing he could have…

"Mikey, this way!" Don pulled his younger brother down beside him, hiding from the Purple Dragons hot on their heels.

"Dude, we're sittin' ducks down—"

"Wait for it." Don pressed a button on his wrist and suddenly the battle shell roared to life, drawing their attackers towards it. Don quickly input a course and the vehicle was off.

"Don't let 'em get away!"

There was a bustle of noise as the thugs ran for their trucks and bikes, darting out after the shellraiser at full speed.

Mikey and Don waited a moment, taking a second to breathe before sneaking out the back.

"Dude, where are we going? They only left three guys, we can totally take them!"

"Leo's hurt, we have to get to Raph."

"What? Is he okay?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine, but I need to get there and see for myself." Not a lie, but not the whole truth. And fortunately, Mikey didn't ask for any other details. Don silently breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing he needed was a hysterical brother on his hands. He needed them both to stay calm while he figured out a solution.

Leo might be dying…

"Let's go." Don said quickly, running away from that last thought. His mind was rushing through everything he knew about stomach wounds, and none of it was offering answers he wanted to hear. If the bullet hit anything vital…

They had to hurry.

"Right behind you, D-Man!"

But both were moving sluggish. Their battle had been intense, leaving them exhausted and injured enough to impede their regular agility. Don pressed them onward, his fear growing with every tick of his watch. They were moving too slow. From the sounds of it, Leo'd lost a lot of blood, which didn't give Don much time to stitch him up by the time they got him back to the lair. And that's not even considering what might be happening if his liver or kidneys had been hit.

Faster. Get there faster.

He had Mikey call Raph for an update, and from the sounds of it, Leo was in bad shape, and Don couldn't shake the fear scratching at his calm exterior.

"Get here and see for yourself!" Raph's voice barked angrily through the phone.

"We'll be there soon. Just tell him to hang on. No passing out." Couldn't let himself panic. He could figure this out. Get there, see the problem, find the solution. It's what he did best.

Mikey shot Don a pleading, betrayed look. "You said he was fine!"

"He will be." Don said adamantly. Tossing the cell back to his brother, he readied himself for a hard run. "Come on."

But the growing dread in Don's veins had been right. By the time they made it to their brothers, Leo was already passed out. Mikey was by Leo's side instantly, holding his hand, and Raph had a palm pressing on the wound with his head bowed to Leo's.

For whatever reason, Don paused to take the scene in.

And suddenly couldn't move.

He didn't know why—the way Raph looked as he held their brother, or maybe the thick smell of blood in the rain—but in that moment he knew.

Leo was already gone. They were too late.

Denial slammed into his mind so hard, he could almost feel his logic being forced to the back of his skull. Take a look. Maybe he's still… maybe there's still a chance.

"Raph, move your hand." He finally said, kneeling beside Mikey and ignoring the pleading look on his face.

But Raph didn't move.

Don tried forcing his hand away, but it was firmly in place. He couldn't see the wound to— "Raph!" And finally he shoved the appendage aside, swallowing his fear when blood squelched over Leo's plastron at the release of pressure. Don couldn't even see the wound itself through all the gushing liquid. He wiped the rain from his eyes—was it the rain? When had it started?—and did his best to inspect the bullet hole. But between the weather, the lack of light, and the fact that his heart was pounding too loudly for him to focus on anything else, he couldn't find much.

Not that he needed to. He knew the truth. Knew it almost from the moment he'd gotten Raph's phone call.

There was nothing they could have done.

Acceptance dropped like a brick to the pit of his stomach, nearly making him gag. He finally looked up from the blood to see Raph moving away from Leo's head, an emptiness to his eyes that chilled Don's bones.

His attention was drawn back to his youngest brother when the pleading started—or continued, Don hadn't really heard what Mikey'd been saying before—and it was all he could do to keep himself from actually obeying. He wanted to do something. Wanted to have an answer.

He placed his hand on Mikey's shoulder, and it was like he'd punched his brother in the face with the way his eyes dripped with betrayal. Clearly, the younger's mind was still in the heavy throws of denial, because before Don could blink, Mikey was shaking Leo's shoulders begging him to wake up.

Don waited patiently. Mikey was usually slower because he felt things more potently than the rest of them.

Give it a minute. Let it sink in.

This was going to burry him.

The minute Mikey started crying, Don's arms were instinctively wrapping around him, trying to keep him together.

Focus on Mikey. Don't let him break. Focus on…

Leo…

The bullet must have hit something. Probably the liver. Must have been. There was a lot of blood for such a small bullet. Such a small piece of metal that held such power… that took down a whole person. A whole life.

Leo…

Don felt the rain on his cheeks, hot and blinding. There was a pang in his heart, like a shard of glass was attempting to move through his ventricles, scratching and scraping them open as it went. Is this what dying felt like? Is this what…

Leo…

Leo was dead.

Don stared down at his eldest brother as a tremble he was unable to still radiated through his body. He pulled Mikey closer and held him tight, hoping somehow the contact would quell the pain.

It didn't.

Nothing ever would.

Don's hand began to quake again, forcing him to set his instruments down. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. Focus on the task. The pain will leave, just focus. Breathe.

Another deep inhale had him immersing back into his work. His magnifying glasses perched on his face, Don finished with the last of the stitches, stepping back to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He'd spent the past two days meticulously combing over his brother's body, making sure every scratch was bandaged, every cut stitched, and every crack in his plastron was repaired to perfection.

They would burry him out in Northampton. Not because it was Leo's favourite spot or because he'd asked to be laid to rest there, but April thought they'd have more solitude to mourn. A thoughtful suggestion, Don felt. April was always thoughtful.

Honestly, if they could figure out a way, Don would have liked to burry Leo somewhere in Japan. Near where Splinter's clan used to live. Leo had always wanted to visit Japan…

Nausea rumbled in Don's stomach as he quickly turned away from the table—and the thought—to wash his hands. Whatever the case, Leo was ready for burial.

Leo was… no. No, this wasn't Leo.

Walking back to the table and staring down at the body, Don felt his nausea grow.

This wasn't his brother. This wasn't the sibling who would put him to bed at ungodly hours of the morning when he'd fallen asleep at his computer. This wasn't the turtle who would help him collect the junk and scraps he needed for his tinkering. This wasn't the one who sat by his bed every time he got sick, just to make sure he stayed warm through the night.

This wasn't Leo. This was a corpse. A remnant. Nothing more than an empty shell.

A drop of water fell to Leo's cheek, drawing Don's gaze to his face. Where had that—

…He looked so peaceful. So vulnerable. It was obscenely rare to see Leo without his guarded expression, even when he was happy. Don could only think of a handful of times he'd seen it, and most of them were when Leo was injured or unconscious. Like the time Don was allowed to drive Casey's car up at Northampton and Leo fell asleep in the back seat. Or this past summer when they were enjoying some downtime at the farmhouse and all four of them fell asleep in the sun, curled up on one another like a dog pile (or 'cuddle-pile' as Mikey had dubbed it, much to Raph's chagrin).

Leo deserved more moments like that. He deserved to live a happy life.

He deserved to live.

As gently as possible, Don reached out and wiped the droplet from his brother's face. His skin was so cold… and entirely the wrong shade of green. Leo's skin was always a deep green, bringing out the blue of his eyes. Eyes that would never open again.

Another water droplet fell. And another. Were those tears? Why was he crying? There was no sense in crying over this. It was a body. Just a corpse. Not Leo.

Leo was dead.

Don's breath hitched as his legs buckled beneath him, sinking him to his knees. His head bowed to rest against his brother's as the world around him faded away into irrelevance. The tears came swifter and swifter until Don no longer knew if he was breathing anymore.

Just crying. Silently crying. And begging the universe to give his brother back.

"I'm sorry Leo…" If only he'd been faster. If only he'd gotten there quicker. Maybe he could have… "I'm so sorry."

No more logic. No more distractions.

Only tears. Quiet, desperate, tears.


I'm beginning to think my brain enjoys angst to an unhealthy degree.

Should I use time titles ("one month later", "two days later", etc)? Or did it make sense on it's own?

End of Line.

-TRAaP