I haven't' forgotten you, dear readers. I promise.

This extremely long chapter is technically unfinished. I have been editing it for months now, and I'm still not happy with it (it feels choppy and off-kilter and repetitive). But I thought, given the state of the world, I'd like to update anyway and give people an escape (should they need it). I know it's only a chapter in a fanfiction, but I hope it's at least something to help you through whatever stresses may be bogging you down today. Imperfections be damned.

I very much appreciate all your support for this silly story, and I hope you are all well.


The sun hit at just the right angle, cascading light across the clouds to colour them with bright oranges and pinks. Nocturnal as he was, Casey was very used to seeing the sunrise, but somehow this wasn't the same. A New York sunrise didn't compare to this. Perhaps it was the clean air or the lack of pollution to dilute the colours, or maybe it was the way light bounced off the trees and sparkled across the slight frost crusting the ground.

Or maybe it was because today was the day. Today he'd be saying goodbye to friend. A brother. Burying his body beneath the ground, never to be seen again. Perhaps it was the universe trying to give him a small sense of beauty as he waded through the hurricane of heartache that was wreaking havoc on his body.

Perhaps he was just being overly sentimental. He'd done something similar after his mom died. Nothing was normal anymore, everything either became the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen or something he reviled to the point of making him nauseous. No in-between. Maybe he was just in the throws of grief and trying to lighten the load with a little sentiment.

Leo had always told him sunrises were a sight to behold. It meant a new day had dawned and you would get to witness it unfold.

Sentimental. And cheesy as hell, Leo really was an enormous sap. He didn't always show it, but when he did, it was full of cliché and tenderness and passion.

A total softy at heart, really. Much like Raph. Tough on the outside, all heart on the inside.

Casey sighed into his grief, tensing his hands and letting his fists quake beside him as he tried to handle the pain.

How… Just how in the hell were they supposed to get past this?


The drive up went much better than Don had expected. With everything that had happened, he was certain it was bound to be a long six hours of twiddling thumbs and awkward glances atop a thick fog of uncomfortable silence.

Fortunately, there was Mikey.

He talked most of the trip, gabbing about anything from video games to favourite foods. He even managed to get Raph to pipe in once or twice. Of course, there were a few times the conversation circled too closely around their missing brother. It was like an exposed nerve; anytime anyone mentioned something that reminded them of Leo, the entire trailer halted into absolute silence. But Mikey always managed to change the subject and perk up again.

Don was doing his best to participate. He knew the talking was a distraction for all of them to keep from thinking about what awaited them at the farmhouse, but he was having a hard time focusing.

He couldn't stop staring at Raph.

It had been two months since their escapade at the warehouse. Two months since they almost lost a second brother to Hun and his goons. And Don was still terrified that Raph would vanish again without a word.

He was just so… silent. And not in his usual brooding way, either. Not with an air of anger, and not in a way that said 'back off'. He would answer questions directed at him, and he would make small talk to change a subject, but the rest of the time he was completely closed off. Not distant as he had been after that night on the roof, he didn't seem to be intentionally walling himself away (Don was keeping a close eye out for that). And his eyes were much less hollow than they had been before. But he was still… off.

Since the warehouse, the only time he'd heard Raph say more than few words was last month after his recovery. When Mikey and Don had been dusting in Leo's room.

When Raph told them what happened on the roof.

"Leo's dead 'cause of me."

He ran out of the room immediately after, and Don had been so panicked he was running off that he didn't get a chance to process what he'd just said. He was almost grateful that his brother passed out because it meant he couldn't leave before they had a chance to talk.

Before Don could tell him all the reasons this wasn't his fault.

He was sure guilt was the cause of Raph's silence. They'd had a good talk about it when he woke up which ended in tears—at least for the younger two—and Don really thought they'd gotten through to him. But one night wasn't enough to ward off what might be a lifetime of remorse, he supposed.

The idea of Raph feeling guilty about this his entire life made Don's heart heavy. But what could he do? What could he possibly say that would make a difference? Raph was there when Leo died. Raph had to watch it happen. Raph had held their brother as the life drained from his body. Don knew if their places had been switched…

He'd never forgive himself either.

He sighed. This wasn't really his arena. Angry Raph he could handle, grumpy Raph he could humor, but sad Raph… sad Raph was so rare and painful it made Don want to cry.

"Dee? You okay?"

Belatedly Don realized all eyes in the trailer were on him. "Wh-What?"

"Dude, you've been staring at Raph for like, ten minutes. What's up?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was…"

But Raph was already back to staring at the floor. Seemed he only checked in to make sure Don was okay and then went back to his own thoughts.

Don sighed in defeat. "It's nothing, Mikey."

Nothing he could do.


April couldn't feel it. She saw the light filtering through the windows and glittering across her skin, but there was no warmth. No tingle of heat radiated from her body. She just felt… cold. Numb. Like when you've walked in the freezing wind so long nothing can warm you up.

Today was the day.

Like everyone else in the cabin, sleep did not come to her last night. Instead, she spent the better part of the evening practicing her stoic face. Her family was falling apart, and the only thing she could do to help was keep from adding to their pain by falling apart herself. She needed to be strong. Stoic. Solid. Something for her family to lean on whenever they admitted they needed it.

If they ever admitted they needed it.

Good gracious they were all bull-headed, weren't they. In their own ways. Mikey was the only one who wasn't afraid to ask for help, and even he had his moments. Donnie generally knew to ask when he needed emotional help, it was his intellect he was stubborn about. It was like pulling teeth trying to get him to admit he couldn't solve a problem by himself.

And Raph… was Raph. If you looked up 'stubborn' in the dictionary, his picture was bound to be there.

Then there was Leo. He was just about as stubborn as Raph, but he believed it was for good reason. He kept his problems to himself because he always felt a good leader didn't burden others, but rather helped lighten their loads. The only one he'd really open up to was Splinter, and even then he'd try so hard to be the "perfect student" that he'd keep things hidden.

Stubborn as mules, the whole lot of them.

Too stubborn to admit when they needed help. Too stubborn to talk when they were upset. Too stubborn to let other people share their burdens.

Too stubborn to let others fend off the evils of the world.

Too stubborn to ever quit a fight.

Too stubborn to die… ever…

So she always thought. Hoped. Prayed.

She covered her mouth to keep from making any noise as the tears fell.


By the time they arrived at the farmhouse, Mikey had nearly exhausted his list of stories to lighten the mood. It didn't seem like anyone was paying attention to them at all, but he said them anyway; if nothing else, they at least kept him from the sorrow that was constantly tapping on the back of his shell.

Stepping out of the trailer, he arched his back dramatically, yawning to hide the grimace he felt coming on. This place used to be happy. It used to be where they came to bond, recover, and catch their second wind. It used to mean freedom. Now all Mikey thought of as they stood in front of the old house was that grave by the tree line.

He shook his head, throwing on his best smile as he turned to his brothers. "Come on, dudes, breathe the fresh air! You don't find that clean and pure smell in New York City!"

Don quirked a small smile as he stepped out of the trailer, also doing his best not to wallow. "It's always nice to enjoy the sunshine for a change."

"Hey! Maybe we can go down to the lake and see if it's warm enough for a swim? What do ya think, Raph?" No response. Mikey turned. "Raph? Anybody ho—"

Raphael stood only a few steps from the trailer, eyes trained on the trees, staring at one spot in particular. His hands were already balled so tightly into fists his knuckles had paled.

So much for lightening the mood.

Mikey stood beside his brother, ever so gently placing a hand on his arm. "Raph…" Words suddenly left him as his eyes clocked the grave. That small piece of stone that was somehow supposed to represent an entire person. A person who meant the world to all of them. Mikey gripped his brother's arm tighter. "It's been a long trip. Maybe we should get some food or something first."

A moment passed that stretched on with the incoming breeze. The fall leaves danced in the wind, waving their bright autumn colours like an ebbing tide. A chill ran through Mikey's arm and down his shell; it was already starting to get cold again. How could it possibly be fall already? Hadn't it just been—

Without a word, Raph began to walk slowly toward the grave, pulling out of Mikey's grasp in one stride.

"Raph…" But Mikey hadn't a reason to stop him. Raph hadn't been there for the burial or the ceremony or any of it. He probably needed some closure. But for whatever reason—maybe the fear that his brother would run off again, or maybe the thought of the grave itself—Mikey's heart sunk while he watched the red bandana twist in the breeze as it walked away. Something touching his shoulder brought his attention back towards the house.

"It's okay, Mikey." Don stared after their sibling as well, the same pain in his eyes that Mikey felt squeezing his heart. "This is why we're here."

The younger turtle watched in silence as his older—oldest—brother stopped in front of the grave, shell to his family, and wind kicking up around his feet. Another long moment passed before Raph's fists clenched again and his head bowed low.

"Should we go with him?" Mikey finally asked, his feet already moving in that direction. If they were with him, he wouldn't run off. They should—but Don's grip on his shoulder stopped him short.

"Maybe give him some time."

"But—"

"He's not going anywhere, Mikey. He needs this…"

Mikey turned to his brother once more, doing his best to ignore the pounding of his heart. He wouldn't leave… Raph wouldn't leave again. And anyways, there'd be nowhere to go out here that could get him caught in a fiery warehouse explosion. No guns, no goons, no Purple Dragons.

"Ok…" He nodded, wrapping his arms around himself in defence of the cold.

He wouldn't leave. Raph wouldn't leave again.

Please…


"When the links of life are broken and a child has to part, there is nothing that will heal a parent's broken heart."

It was a simple poem, something he read in a magazine years ago, when his children were still very small. But it stuck with him, worming under his skin and wrapping around his heart. Splinter had known much grief in his lifetime. He'd lost his beloved wife to a blade, his daughter to a fire, and his clan to a rival. He knew what it was to lose everything you loved and try to continue on.

But what do you do when that tether, that thing that kept you from giving in to grief, is also taken from you?

His children were his tether. Had he not found them when he did, he was certain he would not have survived. They gave him purpose when he had none, family when he'd lost all, and love when he was most alone.

His children saved his life. And continued to save it ever day that they lived.

Now one of them was gone. And Splinter didn't know if he could survive more grief. Without his whole family. Without his eldest. Without Leonardo.

Doubts clouded his mind, sinking their teeth of guilt and pain deep enough to tear at his soul. If he had not tried to replace what he had… if he had not taught his sons the ways of the ninja and simply let them live their lives as normal children… perhaps Leonardo would still be with them.

He knew such thoughts were folly. His boys could never have lived normal lives, and they expressed on multiple occasions how the outlet of ninjitsu had saved them from loneliness. But doubt would forever haunt him. There had to be something he could have done… something.

He sighed heavily, breathing out the grief.

His son, his beloved Leonardo was gone, and no amount of regret could change that. He joined an ever growing hole in Splinter's heart that would never be filled, and all the old rat could do was beg the universe not to take any more.

A deep, resonant desire to hold his remaining children close overtook him, prompting Splinter to stand from his folded position and head to the barn where Michelangelo was keeping watch.

Where his eldest son's body lay. Where a corpse had replaced his child.

"My Leonardo…" He wiped a tear from his eye. Not now… not yet. His time to grieve would come later.

Today, he needed to be there for his family.


From inside the house, Don peaked out the window towards the grave, squinting through the light refracting off the glass. Raph was still out there. Still standing with head bowed low and fists clenched tight. From this angle, he looked exactly as he had when—

"You owe us for getting our brother killed!"

Don sighed out his guilt. This wasn't the first time he'd hurled a hurtful accusation at Raph. They were brothers, professionals at pushing each other's buttons and finding what hurt most. But this… this one was going to be a long road to forgiveness. If not for Raph, then for himself.

He was still shaken by his own ignorance. How could he not have seen the pain his brother was in? How was his own anger so blinding that logic was incapable of penetrating?

His hands still shook when he thought of how close it had been. How any minute later would have been too late. How they'd found Raph barely conscious in a pool of his own blood.

How much he'd looked like Leo had on that roof.

If they'd been any later… any second later… Raph would be—

"Over here, Dee! I found him!"

Don followed Mikey's voice, wafting smoke from his face as the flames continued to spread. Finding his way around a graveyard of wooden debris and cement bits, he stepped through a puff of thick smog and came face to face with his worst nightmare.

Raph, eyes half-lidded and skin pale, lying huddled on the ground with blood spilling around him in buckets.

His heart stopped. Images of Leo flashed through his mind.

Too late. He was too late! It was happening again and he was too late to—

"He's still breathing!"

Every fiber of Don's being suddenly snapped to, clinging to Mikey's words like metal to a magnet. He stepped forward cautiously and swallowed his fear to keep a cool head.

Mikey found no such calm. "Raph! Raph, can you hear me?"

"Leo…"

The voice was weak and broken, but it still swept the young turtle with relief. "We're here." He grabbed his brother's hand and gave it a good squeeze to emphasize his presence before looking to his other sibling with desperation. "Don! Do something!"

The elder sibling was already kneeling, assessing injuries and testing vitals; pulse was quick and erratic, breath short and thin, and there was enough blood on the floor to fill a pool. Thankfully it wasn't all Raph's. Don's eyes quickly noted the body of Hun not too far away, but couldn't take time to analyze what happened. "Help me flip him. Gently."

With cautious hands, the two moved Raph onto his shell, both flinching as he coughed and sputtered blood on the way. To his credit, his hand was still covering the wound, applying pressure as he could. Don would have been impressed if he had the mind to be.

He went to move his brother's hand, but it was stubbornly in place. "Raph, move your—"

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's stomach churned anew as the image of Leo's blood-soaked body stained his eyes. As gently as he could, he pried Raph's hand out of the way. His eyes narrowed, fear and desperation almost drowning him immediately.

No, it was okay. Not too late. Not this time. He was still alive. They could still save him.

Don swallowed thickly and shook his head, placing his own hand over the wound and pressing to stop the blood flow.

"Raph? Raph? Can you hear me?" Mikey continued to try and coax their brother to speak. His eyes were open, but they looked hazy and grey, like they'd lost their luster. "Come on dude, say something! Call me a name! Anything!"

"Leo…"

An involuntary flinch made Mikey close his eyes momentarily. Raph sounded so scared… He shifted closer to try and catch his brother's eye line. "It's okay, dude, we got you."

"Mi—" Suddenly Raph was coughing, blood practically pouring from his lips. "Mikey?" His eyes began to close.

Panic took over. Mikey grabbed his brother's hand with both his own, squeezing for dear life. "I'm here!" Tears sprang to his eyes. "I'm here, just squeeze my hand if you can't see me!" Raph's gaze wandered again, like he was fighting a losing battle with consciousness. "Dee, what do we do!?"

"Here." Don placed Mikey's panicked hand over the wound.. "Keep pressure while I wrap it." They needed to get him home fast. Moving him risked bleeding out, but the warehouse being on fire erased the option of staying put. He worked quickly and efficient, splitting his effort between focusing and forcing away panic. "There. That'll have to do." A cry from around a nearby crate grabbed both brothers' attention. Gunfire followed, then another cry. Don looked to Mikey. "Time to go."

"Are you sure we can move him?"

"No choice. We have to get—"

"Get what!?" Raph cut in, his voice tired but frustrated. Don didn't have time to register why, he was just glad to hear a voice at all.

"Get out of here. Casey and Sensei can only hold them off for so long." The two younger turtles pulled their brother to a standing position, grateful that more blood didn't start dripping from his mouth. But he couldn't stand on his own. His feet dragged as he gazed across the room, staring at something in the middle distance.

He was still fighting for consciousness though. "Don…"

"It's okay, Raph. We'll get you out, just hold on."

A flash of fear jolted across both as their older brother's head lilted, like speaking that one word cost him whatever energy he had left.

Mikey stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. "I'll take point and clear the path. Can you hold him on your own?"

Don nodded.

"D-Don…"

Raph's voice was growing weaker, and there was a desperation in it that Don couldn't put words to. It made his chest tighten.

Still alive. Not too late. Not—

"You owe us for getting our brother killed!"

Tears rolled down Don's cheeks, unchecked and unnoticed, as his brother's head once again lilted, his body feeling heavier.

"Just save your strength, Raph. We can talk after we get you fixed up, okay? After we're home and safe."

Don shook his head of the memory.

They were home and safe now. Don had apologized and it seemed like Raph took it to heart. But still… still Don saw the pain in his brother's eyes. That pain that said he blamed himself—loathed himself—for things that were never in his control.

Don sighed once more, guilt and worry and fear all rolling through him like a building storm.

"He still out there?"

Mikey's voice boomed through the silence, catching Don by surprise, which he hid by adjusting his glasses. "Yeah."

"Do you think we should bring him in? Or at least get him some food or something? It's been hours."

They both knew the futility of offering their brother food in this state, but that wasn't what was making Don pause.

"…Donnie?"

"I… I don't know, Mikey. This isn't exactly my forte." He gave a light shrug of his shoulders as he pieced the words together. "Emotions were always your area of expertise. Yours and Leo's…" He tried to stop that last thought, but was too late. Mikey went silent and Don immediately regretted saying the name. But as he was about to abandon the conversation all together, he heard a small giggle began bubbling from his younger sibling. "Dare I ask what's so funny?"

Mikey took a moment, allowing his laughter to simmer as he spoke. "Dude, in what world was Leo good with emotions?"

Don suddenly felt his defences rise—for his own analysis or his brother's honour, he wasn't sure—as he hunched his shoulders and folded his arms. "You've said so yourself. Leo always knew how to cheer us up or calm us down."

"Trial and error, bro. Not natural talent." Mikey chuckled at the puzzled—almost heated—look on his brother's face. "Don't you remember the first time he tried to cheer you up when an invention wasn't working? He told you you just needed to work harder, and you'd get it. So you stayed up for seventy-two hours straight trying to get that thing to work, until Sensei finally forced you to rest."

Don had a vague recollection. "We were eight, Mikey."

"Or that time Raph was so angry he broke the door to the dojo and Leo tried to help by telling him to 'calm down' which only pissed Raph off more and he broke the other door?"

"We were fifteen, he's grown a lot since both those instances."

"Exactly." Mikey thrust a finger in the air in an "aha!" gesture. "Leo was never good with emotions, probably because he worked so hard to suppress them in himself that he didn't understand when others expressed them. But he was an excellent learner. He'd try helping us one way, and if that didn't work, he'd try another." Eyes glazing over with memories of his eldest brother, Mikey paused to enjoy them a moment. "Leo was really good at trying. At working. At never giving up until he figured it out. He was good at knowing us. At understanding us. Bt only because he'd worked so hard at it for so long. With him gone… I guess it's our turn to learn…"

Don's shoulders relaxed as he watched Mikey sit by the window, staring out towards the grave. His tone had become intensely somber on that last sentence.

"He was really good at inspiring though. Somehow he always knew exactly what to say to make a hopeless situation seem possible." Mikey continued. "And then knew exactly what to do to make it actually possible. Probably part of the whole 'leader' training or something." A sad smile crossed his lips which prompted Don to place a hand on his shoulder. "Sure wish we could hear one of those speeches right now."

The two stood in silence, staring out the window at their brother's shell while a gust of wind whipped his bandana tails to and fro. Don did his best to tamp down his own grief before speaking. "Trial and error, huh?"

Mikey felt Don's hand leave his shoulder and wiped a tear from his eye before glancing over to see a jacket held out to him.

Don shrugged. "We've tried distance."

Mikey grabbed the coat with a smile.


There was nothing but stillness left. The wind outside had gone quiet, silencing the old wood of the barn and removing the ghostly chorus of drafts sneaking through the cracks. Light filtered in through every crevice it could find, warming the barn and melting much of the ice that had formed overnight.

But Mikey still felt cold.

Every time he looked at that black bag—every time he thought of the person inside it—his blood froze and sent chills through his veins. His every breath stung like tiny needles pricking at his lungs.

This was it. This was the day. This was when they were going to burry their brother in the ground and they'd never see him again. He was going to be gone. Forever.

Truly dead.

And all Mikey could do was think of all the things he was going to miss.

Leo attempting to play a prank only to have Mikey turn it around on him.

Leo teaching him a new move to use against Raph the next time they sparred.

Leo appearing out of nowhere and saving his shell from a Foot soldier.

Leo attempting to sneak past Sensei and failing miserably.

Leo actually waking up late and getting ribbed about it the rest of the week.

Leo reading Mikey a story to help him sleep.

Leo and Raph squaring off against Don and Mikey in a snowball battle.

Leo telling them that they were stronger together.

"Stay with me. Then we're… invincible…"

Mikey closed his eyes and hugged his knees and cried, his tears hitting the ground and disappearing into nothing.

It wasn't fair… it just wasn't fair.


As carefully as possible, the family made their escape. Mikey fended off any remaining Dragons with frightening speed, until they met up with Splinter and Casey. With all the exits blocked except the roof, they climbed the stairs as fast as they could with Raph between them. Smoke and fire had filled the entire warehouse, gunfire splitting the silence every few moments as stray thugs tried to salvage the night by pegging off an enemy to no avail. After several close calls, they finally made it to the roof, all having to work together to pass their fallen member from building to building.

Don kept close watch of Raph's vitals, checking for a pulse every few minutes and frowning at how sluggish it had become. They still had time. He'd slowed the bleeding, which should be enough for them to get him home, stitch him up, and pump him full of blood again. Still time to—

The pulse was gone. "No…" He pressed harder into the carotid, absolutely refusing to believe there was nothing there. But no beat met his fingers. "No no no no no!" Don fumbled as he halted and lay Raph on the ground, gentle as possible, but abruptly enough that he took Mikey—under Raph's other shoulder—down with him.

"What is it?"

There was no filter on Mikey's panic, but no time for Don to form words. His mind was instantly sifting through dozens of scenarios: could his brother's brain survive without oxygen until they reached the lair (they were only ten minutes away), could they scrounge up parts for a blood transfusion here, or have Mikey run to the lair and back with supplies, or could they—

"Don!"

The frantic voice of his younger brother snapped him from his thoughts. He was already doing compressions—when had he started?—but blood was now squelching from the wound on Raph's side.

"Mikey, I need you to—"

"I have it, Donatello." Splinter knelt in front of the wound and placed his hands on it firmly, quietly rumbling a low chant.

Emotions running rampant, Don nearly shouted at his father to do something with the wound, when he noticed a slight hint of a glow surround the area Sensei's hands covered. He was chanting a healing mantra, of course! And it looked like it was working.

Don managed one sigh of relief—the briefest of moments—before his father turned to him with a twinge of fear in his eyes. "I cannot heal it enough to close the wound."

"Switch with me." He waited for Splinter to take over compressions—chanting another healing mantra as he did—before assessing the laceration once more. "Mikey, hand me your bandana." He demanded, taking his own from his head and pulling a shurikan from his belt. "Sorry Sensei." He apologized as he cut free a piece of his fathers robe and placed it over the wound. He held his hand out for his brother's accoutrement, but when his hand remained empty, he spared a moment to look at his younger brother; body trembling, eyes watering, and hands grasping Raph's for dear life. Had Don any emotions to spare, he would have attempted to comfort. But they were running out of time. "Mikey, bandana!"

But the younger's mind was entirely elsewhere. "You can't die, Raph. You just can't. Please…"

"Mikey!" Don could feel his own panic rising. Too late… again… they were going to lose him. Just like—

NO! Don absolutely refused to allow it to happen again. He could fix this. He just needed "MIKEY!"

A gasp of air popped into Raph's lungs. Splinter quickly checked for a pulse and found one weakly thrumming beneath his fingers. His nod of confirmation had everyone release the fearful breaths they'd been holding.

Everyone except for Don. "Mik—"

"Here Don." Casey took the bandana from the young turtle's head, having to force his hands to unclench as he did, and tossed it over.

Don made quick work of tying the bandanas together with the bottom hem of his father's robe, then wrapped the whole thing around Raph's torso. He had Casey hold the other piece of his father's cloth to the wound and tied the makeshift bandage around it, pulling as tight as he could to create a solid tourniquet. Hopefully, it would slow the bleeding enough for them to get Raph back home without any more incidents.

"We have to move quicker." He said sternly, wiping his brow as he helped Mikey lift their older brother as gently as possible.

"Hang in there, Raph." Mikey soothed, his eyes finding their strength and resolve once more. "We're almost home."


Don's feet felt impossibly heavy, trudging through the frosted grass with such lethargy he practically had time to note every muscle and synapse as it was activated to move him forward. Towards the barn. Towards that black bag. Towards a lifetime of grief and pain that was impossible to even fathom.

Intellectually, Don knew all about grief. He'd read many books on the subject: the psychosis involved, the stages, the long and short term effects of such emotional strain on the body. He knew what it was to experience grief in terms of vocabulary; he knew the emotions he was feeling and could describe them in terms of where he was on the spectrum, as well as where they fell in the five stages of grief (he was somewhere between denial and bargaining, but not quite at anger). He could even give a rather accurate estimation as to how long these emotions would last and what they would do to his body as he worked through them. Intellectually, Don knew about grief.

But nothing he'd read had ever prepared him for the pain. Reading about loss, he certainly empathized with what the people in the books experienced, and he could extrapolate and estimate what his own experience would be. But none of his projections came even close to what it was truly like. To what he was feeling now. The description of a hole in one's heart came closest to an accurate depiction, but wasn't strong enough to do justice to the actual feeling. In fact, Don found himself at a loss for finding any words—in any language he'd ever studied—that truly described what he felt right now. Pain, grief, loss, depression, anxiety, fear; all of them failed to lend the same weight to the depths he felt them.

He was lost. He couldn't describe the pain he felt, and he had no idea how to stop it. It was what Don referred to as a "dead end" equation: something he would never be able to solve, yet never be able to stop trying. This was normally when Leo would step in and—

"Some problems aren't meant to be solved, Don."

His feet stopped moving.

"Some are just meant to be experienced."

That's right… Leo wouldn't be there for support now. There'd be no one to lean on when he felt ill-equipped to solve a problem. He'd be alone…

"But you never have to experience it alone. We got your back."

All alone…

"Always."

Standing in front of the barn, Don found himself wholly unable to walk in. If he didn't see it, it wasn't real. Leo could still be out there somewhere… he could…

Back to stage 1: denial.


I don't remember this tree.

Mikey says it was Leo's favourite spot to read, and the others all agree, but I don't remember it. I know he liked reading up where he could keep an eye on all of us, but I don't remember this specific tree. Mikey's always been good at those details, at remembering the small things about us. Remembering the good.

I wish I knew how he does that.

I don't remember the good so well. Not even with Leo. Especially with Leo. I know we had good times, I just can't seem to dig out those memories. All I get are flashes of every fight we ever had. Every time he'd gotten in my way, got me in trouble, or pissed me off. Every time he'd made me so angry I wanted to slug him in the—

I barely have time to process the fear in his voice as my fist flies through the air at his jaw, when something crashes hard into my side.

My eyes close without prompt in a sad attempt to ignore the memory. I'll never get away from it. From what I did. What I said.

"I DON'T NEED YOU!"

I take a deep breath and let it out slow, attempting to uncurl my fingers before they start drawing blood from my palms. The best way I can think to ground myself is to lower my eyes from the tree to the grave.

…I still can't think of anything to say.

No use apologizing, he's already gone. Can't change that. And saying what I should have said on that roof was useless too. I was too late. Lost my chance.

Lost a lot that night.

All I can think of as I stare at this old stone Casey'd carved my brother's name into was how cold it was. Too cold. Leo definitely wasn't Mikey levels of warm to anyone, but he wasn't stone.

He cared. Deeply. Often too much. Just didn't always know how to show it, I guess.

I hate him.

A stone shouldn't be here to mark his life. He was a pain in the ass, sure, but never heartless.

His condescending eyes.

Always distant. But always there.

I hate his smug face.

Someone you could rely on. Depend on. No matter what.

I hate him.

Always there when you needed him. Sometimes when you didn't.

Hate everything about him.

So why can I only think about—

"I DON'T NEED YOU!"

Guilt and self-loathing have become so engrained in my system, I barely notice them crushing me again. They can't bring me any lower. I'm buried so deep I can't even look up to find rock bottom.

Because no matter what I say, no matter what I do,

"You shouldn't have left."

It will always be my fault.

"RAPH!"

I got him killed. The damn bullet was meant for me and he took it instead.

"You still don't—"

"No, you don't get it." My hands are back into fists so tight my knuckles pale. "They need you. You're our leader. They need you, depend on you." He had to know. "They don't need me. Not like they need you."

I lock my legs in place and dig into my stance to keep from shaking, emotions bubbling and boiling like a volcano about to erupt.

"If you were here, you could get them through this. You'd know what to say. What to do." I'm falling apart at the seams. And I'm completely helpless to stop it. No amount of rage can help me now.

"It shouldn'ta been you. That bullet wasn't meant for you. It shoulda been… it would've been better if…" I think my voice is cracking, but I can barely hear it over the ringing in my ears.

Can't hold it in any more.

"Why did you come!?" I glare at the grave as my anger feels like it's boiling my skin, making me shout even louder. "If you hadn't followed—if you'd just let me go—they would have taken me! Why do you always do it!? Why do you always get in the way!? Why don't you ever just let me pay the price for my stupidity alone!? I told you to back off! I told you—"

"I DON'T NEED YOU!"

I wish he were—

I try to hold it back, but the sob bursts from my lips so intensely it makes my legs finally give way, taking me to my knees with my head lowered in shame and fists quaking at my sides.

I can't stop thinking it. Can't stop reliving it. Can't stop hearing what I thought that night.

I wish he were—

"I didn't mean it! I could never mean it!" A haze surrounds me, black smoke so thick I know I'm gonna suffocate any minute.

"I'm… I'm so…" It doesn't matter. He's dead. He's dead forever. And it's my fault. It will always be my fault. "I…" My words do nothing but choke me. "It was supposed to be me…"

The urge returns, so overpowering I barely have time to recognize what it is before my mind fills with one thought

Run. Run away. As far as I can go. Farther. Run until the memory fades. Run until the guilt gives way. Run until it doesn't hurt anymore.

But just as I'm about to give in, something holds me down, tethers me to sanity. Don't know what it is, but I don't fight it. No more strength to fight. No more…

"RAPH!"

My whole body shakes and rattles like a quake while the stake in my chest attempts to dissect me alive. But I gather what courage I have left and force myself to say the words I should have said on that roof. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry! For leaving, for fighting, for the horrible things I—" Another sob scrapes through my lips like flesh on sandpaper. "M'Sorry…" My voice is as unsteady as my body, my lungs feel like they've curled in on themselves and died, and everything in me is still screaming to run away into the blissful arms of denial for the rest of my days.

But whatever is tethering me still keeps me there. Clings tighter. Holds firmer. It's presence is almost… comforting.

Could it be—

"…Leo?"

I force my eyes to peer open, and flitting just off my vision to my right is a flash of blue. I crank my eyes over, frantic to catch one more glimpse of it before it disappears, to run after it and never come back… but it's gone. The blue is gone. Replaced with… orange?

The haze suddenly starts to dissipate, and as my eyes clear, I see Mikey sitting beside me in the dirt, arms gripped firmly around my torso, eyes sealed shut, and tears pouring down his cheeks in droves. The blue streaks to my left, but as I twist my eyes over to catch it, it's turned purple. And there's Don, arms wrapped around my shoulders in a vice grip, face buried half in my shell and half in his own arm, and breath wheezing in and out in a strange rhythm, like he's trying to hold it in and letting it out in bursts.

The urge to run disappears.

And the longer I look at them, the more the haze fades.

The more the pain radiates. And grows. And grows.

Looking at that stone, at that name carved out of a life that meant so much, the pain—the loss—is too much to take.

Almost.

My brothers give me the strength to breathe through it. The more the grief grows, the more I lean into their hold.

"I'm sorry." I say it for them. For Leo. For everyone that's living this nightmare because of me. "I'm sorry." It keeps tumbling out of my mouth, over and over with every thump of my heart. "I'm sorry."

I didn't mean it. Any of it.

"I'm sorry."

If I could take it back, I would. I never would have left.

"I'm—"

"We got you, Raph."

With Mikey's words, the last of the haze fades. Pain, hot and blinding and all encompassing drops on me in an instant. My heart suddenly feels like it's going to burst out of my chest as my breath is forced from me like I've been kicked and winded in an instant. The pain…

I scream.

No sound, but my mouth falls open and what air is left is being forced away with all the anger I possess. I double over, my face only inches above the ground, this ground that now holds all that remains of my brother.

I think I'm still screaming. I can't breath. I'm going to pass out. Gotta stop the pain! The haze starts to return…

No! I'm not runnin' this time! I grip Mikey's arm with one hand and Don's with the other, and cling for dear dear life. As tightly as I can muster.

I think I'm gonna die.

"Leo…"

But if I go, at least my brothers are here. At least we're together. At least—

"Tell them…"

No. No we ain't doin' this now! "Leo!"

"…M'Sorry."

"Leo…"

The world goes dark again.


The time was creeping closer, time to place their brother in the ground. To say goodbye. To leave and move on as though it had never happened.

Mikey and Don had carried the body. Splinter helped place it in the ground. Casey shovelled dirt on top. April placed the stone marker. They all performed their jobs with as much reverence and gravity as befit their honourable older sibling. The ceremony itself was short, each person saying a few words of goodbye, nothing extravagant. But after all words were said, all tears shed, and all emotions bled, the group stood staring at the pile of dirt now covering the life of someone so vital.

No one wanted to leave.

These were the last moments, the last chance they had to sit in their denial and pretend everything was still normal. That the worst hadn't happened. That it had all just been a nightmare.

That he might somehow still be alive.

"Together, we're invincible."

Mikey sank to his knees, his cries coming in long, desperate bursts. Splinter was by his side in an instant, an arm over his shoulder and comfort radiating as strongly as he could muster. April had to bite down on her lip hard to keep from following suit. Her chest ached and her legs quivered, but she remained standing, gripping Casey's hand for all she was worth. Caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't seem to notice the intensity of her grip. He was looking around at the house and the trees. Looking for Raph.

But the red-banded brother was nowhere to be found. He was close, of that Casey was certain, but not anywhere near the grave. Or his family.

Casey closed his eyes, slowly letting out the breath he'd been holding. He wasn't a religious person by any measure, but in that moment, he lifted a silent prayer to whatever remained of their fallen brother's spirit.

'Stay with him, Leo. He's gonna need you. Let him know he ain't alone.'

A strong wind kicked up, billowing cold through their little gravesite and blasting through to the house. Casey smiled.

'Atta boy, Leo.


There's so much fog. A haze of smoke growing thicker by the second, warning me not to walk through it. Every step I take towards it fills my lungs with poison, screaming at me not to breathe lest I spread it through my body and it tears me apart from the inside out.

I need to go forward. I need to get to the grave, to see it, to watch the body buried beneath the ground, to see the closure of it all. I'll regret it if I don't. Regret it forever.

But the fog prevents me. It solidifies around me like an iron wall, it's tendrils of smoke whispering warnings of death and pain and grief and—

Guilt.

"RAPH!"

Blame.

"…M'Sorry."

I punch something beside me—can't see what it is through the fog, but it feels solid enough—feeling a sharp pain ripple through my calloused hand. But it fades almost immediately. It wasn't enough. Need more. More intensity. Longer lasting.

I punch again, feeling something sharp cut through my skin. But it's still too fleeting. I throw my fist again and again until the pain is enough that it lasts longer than a second. Long enough to let me see through the fog.

There's a barn. A clearing. A large tree. Leo's tree. Leo's…

They're all there, gathered around him. My family. Grieving, crying, mourning because of my failures.

Because of me.

Because Leo's—

I think I'm gonna hurl.

They're standing beneath that tree and staring at the ground. Staring at it. Cursing it. Weeping over it.

His grave. Cold and desolate and unfeeling. Just like Leo.

"You don't mean that."

I don't. But it's easier to remember the things I hated about him. Easier to be angry at him. To hate him. For coming after me. For babysitting. For not trusting me.

For leaving.

"Still here."

He's not. His voice floats around me like a vulture circling prey, tempting me to believe it's real. But it can't be. He's gone. Left me alone on that roof, holding his body, begging for death. He can't be here. He can't be. He's… he's…

"Dead?"

"RAPH!"

I start throwing fists again.


"Raph…"

"Tell them…"

Light filters in slowly. Like rays creeping through an old window shade. I can't move because my body aches so much. My breath is coming slow and steady, and for the first time I'm not waking up surrounded by fog. Everything is clear. I know where I am.

I'm at the farmhouse. By Leo's grave. With my brothers around—

Mike. Don.

My eyes snap wide open and scan the area. Where are they? Did they leave? Did I drive them off again?

"Hey Raph—"

I turn so sharp, Don pulls his arms back in a surrender position. "—Whoa! Just me."

I let breath come again and nod, focusing on trying to slow my pounding heartbeat. Don just watches me, patient and calm—he's gotta be freezing sitting there in the dirt like that—while I try to settle myself. He must notice me searching because he answers my question before I can ask it.

"He's inside getting some tea. We figured you'd probably be cold when you woke up."

I nod, but honestly, I don't feel the cold yet. I can see my breath, but I'm not feeling the wind's bite. Of course, it's only then that I notice the blanket around my shell. I look up in time to see Don shiver and immediately feel guilty. His eyes are red and baggy like they get when he's stayed up all night, and I don't gotta ask to know we've been out here a while. And him and Mike have been with me the whole time.

"Here." I offer the blanket, but he's quick to shake his head.

"No, you should keep it. You've been out here longer and I'm pretty sure your extremities are going numb."

I sling the blanket around my shell and give my hands a good clench; he's right, I don't feel a thing. And this time it ain't because I punched something too hard.

"Besides, Mikey should be back with the tea any minute."

…There's something else he wants to say. He always readjusts his glasses when he's holding something back. I should prod. I should make sure he's okay. But everything in me wants to hang onto this silence. I don't have the strength for any more emotional outbursts. How does Mikey do this all the time?

"Look who finally woke up!"

Speak of the devil.

"How are you feeling? You up for some tea?"

I glance at the cup warily, not entirely sure I want to risk drinking tea made by Mikey. He's not exactly known for his brewing skills. But he must have seen the face I made because he laughs and hands me the mug.

"Don't worry, Sensei made it."

In that case… "Thanks." I say quietly, still keeping my eyes to ground. Can't dare look at either of them. The tea provides a perfect way to avoid eye contact, allowing me to focus solely on the cup and enjoy the warm now radiating through my chest to my fingertips.

Mikey folds his legs and sits on my other side. Normally being surrounded like this would give me those caged animal instincts, but for right now, I'm perfectly content to have a brother on each arm.

We sit there in silence for a good long while, all drinking our tea and letting the air remain still around us. It's odd sitting in the quiet like this. Not something I normally find comforting. Today it is. I can't explain why, but I ain't gonna fight it either. I'm perfectly content to enjoy the mute company.

The wind dies entirely after a few minutes and the world comes to a complete stand still.

No matter how much I try to avoid it, my eyes keep dragging over to that name carved in stone. Every time I look at it I see his face, twisted in fear and shoutin' my name as he pushes me away.

"RAPH!"

Blood dripping down his lips as he fights to speak.

"You still… don't get it."

That stupid smile on his face and a kind look in his eyes, like he was trying to convey something he couldn't put into words.

"…M'Sorry." He whispers something haltingly with the last of his breath, but I'm panicking too much to let it sink in.

My eyes go wide and my mind snaps to. I remember...

"Remember what I told you. The last thing I said. Never forget. Please…"

I swear I hear him whisper in my ear beside me.

"Tell them…"

"I'm so proud." I feel both of them turn to look at me abruptly. Probably shouldn't have just blurted it out like that, but what the hell. It's out there now. "Leo—" A sob hops up my throat and I gotta take a moment to push it away. Just let me say this… "Right before he died… he said for me to tell you 'I'm so proud…'" I have to take another sharp breath as the image bleeds into my mind. "There was somethin' else, something he was trying to say after that, but he… he didn't… he didn't finish…"

Dammit. I can hear the end of his sentence trail off with the last of his breath. I can feel his body grow cold under my hands. I'm shaking again… my tea spills all over the place, so I abandon it on the ground.

I hear Mikey sniff beside me and turn to see his eyes pouring tears again. But he's smiling… I look at Don and he's the same.

We all know what Leo means when he says he's proud.

Mikey reaches forward and touches the stone, sniffing through his tears. "We love you too, Leo."

Don does the same motion, touching the stone as reverently as possible, but is unable or unwilling to say anything as he lets the tears flow.

"His last thoughts were about us… the idiot couldn't even think of himself on his own death bed." I can't tell if I'm speaking out loud or in my head anymore. Everything just… aches. "He thought about us… even after I—"

"He didn't blame you, Raph. I'm sure of it." Mikey cuts in, hand still grasping the stone, tracing the name with his eyes. "He loved you. You have to know that. He loved you."

Don reaches over with his free hand and takes mine, holding it tight enough that I can feel him through the numbness. "And we do too." He says emphatically. "We don't… we could never…" He cuts himself off by lifting his head up to try and hold the tears in so he can speak. "We love you. Always."

Mikey follows suit, taking my free hand in his and giving me one of his classic 'it'll be okay' smiles.

I can't say it makes the guilt go away. If anything, their understanding makes it burn even hotter.

But they mean what they say. I can see it. Feel it. And that's more than enough. More than I deserve.

"I'm sorry—" I barely get the words out through the ache in my chest. "I'm so sorry…"

Tears stream down my cheeks and I don't bother trying to stop 'em. My body quakes with my silent sobs, and I cling to my brothers for dear life as we wrap our arms around each other's shoulders, crying and clutching and mourning together, Mike and Don still touching that cold stone with one hand, connecting us with it.

Connecting us with our missing piece.

Connecting us with Leonardo.

"Still here…"

The tears are unending.


Please, if it's confusing at all, do not hesitate to tell me straight up. I know there's a lot of bouncing around, but I'm hoping everything was conveyed properly enough that it makes sense.

I've decided to do one more chapter following this, as well as an epilogue of sorts, but we're almost to the end.

As always, comments/critiques are always welcome and encouraged.

Thank you all, once again, for your support.

End of Line.

-TRAaP

ps- yes, the title is a reference to a Linkin Park song.