Author's Note: This story has taken me an insanely long time to write considering how short each "chapter" is. It's rated M for violence. Read at your own risk!
Aftermath of the end of Season 4, not compliant with Season 5. A darker take on 2012 Splinter's character, because as much as I love writing him as a wise Sensei and loving father, there are definitely elements in the show that leave room for a different perspective.
Shards from the Past
1.
It's the same nightmare every single night. He's reliving the very moment when it's not too late, when he still has a chance to turn events around and not witness his father die.
If only he could convince him.
"Sensei, that's not a good idea. We should all stick together if we're gonna take Shredder down."
And every single night, he fails. He watches as his father departs with the team appointed to go with him.
He stays behind.
Dismissed.
Then the scene fades, and next thing he knows he's seeing his father fall. The giant rat plummets to what would have been a certain death if he wasn't already dead...
Leonardo woke up with a start. For the most painful of seconds, he didn't remember where he was; then the darkness around him stopped being threatening and his heartbeat slowed down.
He wasn't in danger. This was the lair, his home and the place where his brothers were currently sleeping. They were safe, all of them. The Shredder was dead. Leonardo had killed that monster himself...
The young turtle listened to his surroundings. He was grateful that his nightmares were silent; the last thing he wanted was to wake up his siblings and give them cause for alarm.
He was supposed to guide them now, and how could he do that if they knew how lost he felt?
Splinter had trusted him with that responsibility. He had wanted Leonardo to be like a father to his brothers, and the turtle would do his best to live up to his father's expectations.
He couldn't show any weakness.
2.
He hadn't expected it to be this hard. After all, he had been training his brothers for months at his father's request, as much as lending a helpful hand with April's lessons.
It was only the continuation of this state of affairs, one of the small beacons of normalcy he was left – except nothing could be normal anymore.
Here in the familiar dojo, he should have stood side by side with his brothers, a student amongst others, ready and willing to soak in the teacher's knowledge and follow his example.
It was what his heart ached for.
Instead, he was the one in front of the others, standing in the shade of the venerable tree which had managed to grow within New York City's sewers.
He felt utterly inadequate. He expected his brothers to call him out every second, to see through the pretense of his self-confidence and reveal his deception; but they hadn't, not a single time since their first training session post-Splinter's death.
Therefore he kept going, planning and organizing so his brothers would grow in skill – not certain of how he could do the same for himself.
Besides, today's training session was special. April had joined them, and the four turtles felt the need to make it as solemn as possible – maybe to show her that they were taking their destiny in hand, and she didn't need to worry about them.
With a nod, Leonardo gave them the signal to split into pairs. April moved to face Donatello while Michelangelo prepared to stand against Raphael. The four fighters stood motionless, waiting for his command.
And Leonardo knew they didn't want to hear his usual "Go!" or "Now!" or even "Begin!". Another word was required, a word weighing on his throat like a stone because it shouldn't have been his to utter.
Except it was. He was the Sensei now, and was required to act and speak accordingly.
His voice didn't waver.
"Hajime!"
3.
The moonlight reflected upon the flat of his blades, giving the signal to attack to his brothers.
Crime in the city didn't stop because they were grieving, and chasing robbers and assailants had the nice bonus to take their minds off Splinter's death, if only for a few minutes.
They were a fine-tuned team now, and the ill-advised thieves who had just robbed a bank never made it to their truck. One second they were running, laden down with bags full of bills, and the next they were tied up on the ground, ready to be picked up by the police.
Leonardo rejoiced in his brothers' satisfied smiles and in the pride on their faces. They had worked hard to reach such a level of coordination, such a mastery of their weapons that they could disarm without killing, defeat without permanently injuring.
Leonardo had taken pride in such things too. He had enjoyed keeping the edge of his swords so sharp that it cut through steel, wood and cloth alike, like his father had taught him. He knew Splinter had always done the same with his own swords, even if the ninja master hadn't taken them to battle in many, many years...
Until one day Leonardo had carried these very swords and used them to cut through skin, bone and flesh.
Since then, he didn't see swords as beautiful items nor their edge as artistic. He saw them for what they were, weapons designed to draw blood.
Weapons unforgiving when carried with the intent to kill.
4.
"Mikey, clean up your mess."
Leonardo tried to keep his irritation from showing in his tone as he spoke. It was the fourth time that he asked his brother to clean up today. The living room was in a state that Splinter would never have tolerated: empty and almost empty pizza boxes everywhere, opened comic books scattered on the floor and crumbs of potato chips crunching between the cushions.
Each and every one of these things was the artwork of one turtle, who was right now begging him to relent until his last video game could be finished.
Leonardo would have gladly accepted the compromise if Michelangelo hadn't already played this card twice.
"Now."
With a sad sigh, Michelangelo paused his game and stood up.
Leonardo watched his brother, arms crossed, as Michelangelo went to the kitchen in order to retrieve the trash can, the first of the many items that would be required in the cleaning operation.
He stifled a sigh. He didn't remember his father having to ask them anything cleaning-related more than once or twice – which would have been a rare occurence and the absolute maximum.
He was so bad at this whole business.
But then, those weren't the orders he was used to give; his area of expertise included battle fields, undercover missions, and everything ninja-esque, not domestic matters.
It still had to be done, and he was the one supposed to do it.
Even if it made him feel like a killjoy, a spoilsport, an unsympathetic ear and overall the worst brother of the year.
5.
It had to happen again someday. He couldn't be everywhere, and they had to split up sometimes.
But the blood...
The blood was everywhere on his brother's plastron.
They had heard rumors. New gangs were stirring in town, eager to take the place left by the scattered Foot. Karai struggled to bring them back together, but it was no easy task...
Tonight was supposed to be a reckon mission. Reckon only. He told them so.
"It looks worse than it is, right, Donnie?" Michelangelo's voice trembled ever so slightly as he hurried to the hunched up figure on the ground. He and Leonardo had run as fast as they could when they had received Donatello's distress call.
Donatello didn't answer. Instead, he turned to Leonardo, exhausted and on the verge of panicking but still strong, and still calm. First things first.
"I did what I could, but I had to move him. There were too many of them."
"What happened?" Leonardo asked, his voice calm and steady.
He felt anything but calm and steady, but his brothers didn't need to know. They, in fact, pretty much needed not to know.
They needed to think he had the situation well in hand.
Leonardo knelt next to Raphael and his bloodied body. Raphael stirred, trying to talk to him. His green eyes were filled with pain and regret, and anger.
"Hush. Don't move," Leonardo whispered.
"It was a trap. They were waiting for us, Leo. They had guns..." Donatello paused. "They weren't expecting the Portable Shellcopter. We escaped by air."
Donatello's last invention. Of course they wouldn't have been expecting it, nobody could ever expect what next machine Donatello would design in his genius and passion.
Leonardo briefly wondered who wanted them dead this time. They had made quite a few enemies over the years.
That question would have to wait.
"You and Mikey keep watch, just in case they followed you." Leonardo joined his hands, closed his eyes.
"You can heal him, right Leo?"
Michelangelo's plea went right to his heart.
"Let him focus, Mikey," Donatello whispered as he moved away to follow orders.
Leonardo breathed deeply and began the familiar sequence of the healing mantra. He prayed that there was enough strength left in his brother's body to follow the path Leonardo was opening for him...
Raphael's body jerked. The injured turtle took a gasp of air before exhaling deeply.
"Damn it," he whispered. "I didn't see it coming."
"Raph!" Michelangelo shouted, running again to their brother and delicately hugging his shell.
Raphael patted his shoulder. "I'm fine, Mikey. I'm as good as new, right? Thanks, Leo."
Raphael, looking up at him. Raphael, looking up to him.
The retrospective fear was turning Leonardo's stomach, only equal to his rage. He could have lost a brother tonight.
He nodded, suddenly unable to speak.
"Raph, take it easy," Donatello fretted. "Let's go back to the lair. I can patch you up better there."
"You don't need to, Donnie."
Raphael tried to refuse his brother's support, but Donatello would have none of it.
"Yes I do. You've lost a lot of blood."
As they went to the closest entrance to the sewers, Raphael sandwiched between Leonardo and Donatello and Michelangelo standing guard around them, Leonardo tried to convince himself that he hadn't completely failed tonight.
Raphael was breathing. Raphael was alive.
But Raphael's blood on Leonardo's hands, and its metallic smell in his nostrils, sang to the leader that it wasn't enough.
6.
The incense sticks burned. Leonardo knelt in front of Splinter's shrine, head bowed and hands pressed.
Father.
The smoke gave form to convoluted shapes that dissipated immediately. For the briefest of seconds, he could almost believe that the ghost of his father was close by.
Father, I need you.
No answer came, not that he really expected one. Hoped for, yes; with all his heart. But expected? No.
He remembered his last conversation with Splinter, after the burial, and how his father had made clear that he would be with him, always. Words of hope, words of peace...
"You must end this, Leonardo."
Words of war.
Leonardo bowed low, pressing his forehead against the ground.
What am I supposed to do now, Father? Shredder is gone, and our family still isn't safe.
The sudden feeling of a familiar presence urged him to sit up straight.
"Leo?"
Leonardo could hear the caution in his brother's voice. It made him uneasy. Since when did his brother walk on eggshells around him?
Since Splinter died. Since Shredder died.
"Yes, Raph?"
"We're going to have a video game tournament. Do you want in?"
Leonardo hesitated. He wasn't in the mood, not really – but on the other side, it was his brother asking, and if he didn't quite understand why Raphael's voice suddenly sounded so hopeful it still made his heart ache with a feeling he couldn't name – and being with his brothers, playing with his brothers, it would almost be as if the last remnants of his childhood weren't gone after all...
He could pretend that for a night.
"Yes."
7.
"Tiger Claw."
Leonardo's voice didn't show the slightest hint of surprise, although he hadn't expected to see his old foe tonight.
The new gang who ambushed Raphael and Donatello must be serious about killing them indeed if they were hiring assassins as expensive as that one.
"Leonardo. Long time no see."
Tiger Claw wasn't boasting. Maybe he had finally learned not to underestimate the turtle in blue, or maybe he missed his gun, sliced in two by Leonardo a second earlier. He moved around, and the turtle did the same, both his katana unsheathed.
"Tell me, turtle, how does it feel to be like me? A cold-bloded assassin." Tiger Claw showed his teeth in something that was almost a smirk.
Leonardo's heart answered before his mind's order to shut up could reach his tongue.
"I'm nothing like you!"
Yes, Tiger Claw was definitely smirking.
"You still think you're the good guy, don't you?" Tiger Claw lashed out with his sword. "But do the good guys sneak inside people's homes to kill them? Do the good guys execute cold-blooded revenge?"
Leonardo blocked the blow, his blood boiling in his veins. It hadn't been revenge, no. It had been putting an end to a decade-old threat.
Or maybe the difference was only in his head?
He didn't want to follow that train of thought.
"What are you doing in New York?" he asked instead. Better to try and pry as much information as he could out of the tiger.
However, Tiger Claw was too clever to give Leonardo more than what the turtle already knew.
"I've been hired, of course. I'm not only the best assassin on Earth, I also have experience with turtles."
"It didn't help you last time." Leonardo's tone was purposefully challenging.
"I made a mistake," Tiger Claw admitted. "I underestimated you. But it won't happen again."
Leonardo's eyes narrowed to slits. The mutant tiger was a powerful opponent, no doubt.
So was he.
"Stay away from my family," he gritted out.
He didn't say the threat aloud, letting it float in the air between them. He had little hope that Tiger Claw would listen – after all, he didn't listen to his own sister when she spared him – but Leonardo had to give him a warning.
Maybe that was part of the difference between murdering and killing in self-defense – a thin line to draw.
Tiger Claw took something from his belt and threw it on the ground. On instinct – ingrained in him by years and years of unfair fights – Leonardo both closed his eyes and jumped out of the way.
The flash grenade exploded behind him, and Tiger Claw's sword impaled thin air. Leonardo spun round, ready for defense – ready for attack.
Police sirens wailed close. A car must have been patrolling nearby, delaying the rest of the unhappy reunion.
"Until we meet again, turtle," Tiger Claw growled before disappearing.
Leonardo hurried back to the sewers, his mind reeling. He hadn't been raised in revenge. He hadn't been raised to kill. And still, when the time came...
He had found himself ready.
Leonardo took a deep breath and let it go. Now wasn't the time for introspection. He had to come back to his brothers and plan their next move. They were not going to be pleased with the fact he went solo tonight, or with his orders not to wander the city alone while Tiger Claw was after them.
They would probably call him a hypocrite, but it didn't matter at that point. What mattered was their safety.
The measure would last until the mutant tiger gave up, which was unlikely; or until they defeated his current employers.
Leonardo forced all thoughts of the third possibility to the back of his mind.
8.
The heavy air spoke of the upcoming storm, even inside the warehouse where Leonardo was fighting for his life.
Thanks to Donatello's genius and with a little help from Rockwell, the turtles and their allies had managed to track down the gang that wanted them dead. They had learned that they relied heavily upon technology, and Donatello had suggested hacking their central system. He needed to access one of their computers for that task, and they had agreed upon sneaking inside a warehouse the gang used for his own purposes to do so.
The team members most familiar with technology – that was, Donatello and April – were tasked with finding a control panel in the warehouse and work their magic, while the others covered them.
Right now, Leonardo could feel Raphael and Michelangelo fighting robots nearby. He was less in-tune with Casey, but the teenager's battle cries were hard to miss, as were the sounds of metallic bodies hitting the floor. Things seemed to progress smoothly for the three of them.
Leonardo couldn't say the same for himself. He had picked the most dangerous opponent and the only non-robotic one.
Tiger Claw.
The mutant tiger hadn't listened to his warning. Leonardo couldn't say he was surprised; disappointed, yes, but not surprised.
Their fight was fierce and merciless, and went on and on as other sounds of combat slowly died around them. Leonardo became conscious that his brothers and Casey had won their own battles, and were now watching his.
He knew that they wanted to help him, but the flurry of blades surrounding Tiger Claw and him prevented anybody else from interfering.
Their mortal dance seemed endless. Leonardo was beginning to tire, but so was Tiger Claw; and the outcome of that fight, wise guy who could have predicted it.
Donatello's sudden happy shout sounded surreal to Leonardo.
"We got them, Leo!"
It came from way above in the warehouse and let Leonardo know that his brother and April had succeeded in their mission.
But his fight was leading him out of the warehouse and into the open, and Leonardo suddenly realized that it had been Tiger Claw's doing all along. His mind shouted warnings at him even before Tiger Claw sheathed one of his blades and took a device from his belt, and the assassin's finger came closer to a glowing red button, the kind that triggered bombs...
It's a trap.
And Raphael, Michelangelo and Casey were running after them, outwards and hopefully safe, but Donatello and April were still inside and wouldn't have time to exit the building before it was too late.
And Leonardo immediately knew that he couldn't remove the device from Tiger Claw's hands, not from where he stood and not in the split second he had...
No, considering his position and Tiger Claw's, there was only one way he could prevent the powerful mutant from pressing that button.
He took it.
He heard Michelangelo gasp as the severed head of his foe bumped against the concrete, droplets of blood splattering the ground on its way. Tiger Claw's lifeless body stood tall for an eerie moment before crashing forwards, giving Leonardo just enough time to grab the device.
The storm finally broke as Donatello and April ran out of the warehouse. A heavy rain fell upon the city, sliding over Leonardo's body.
He didn't feel purified.
He had killed again tonight, this time in front of his whole family. Nobody had said a word yet, but their grim expressions talked for them; and from the corner of his eye, he saw April look away and retch.
He took a deep breath, knowing it wasn't over. They had to dispose of the body; they couldn't leave the corpse of a beheaded mutant tiger on the docks of New York City.
Therefore, he, Raphael and Casey carried the body and the head to the crusher of a nearby garbage truck while Donatello reported to him.
As if it was just another normal night.
9.
Leonardo sat with his back to the dojo tree, his mind in turmoil.
At least he managed to remain as motionless as a statue, keeping up appearances that he was deep in meditation.
The recent events were playing in his head, again and again. Was there anything he could have done to prevent that outcome? What if he had been faster? More skilled?
It wasn't regret, not exactly. He had chosen the lives of those he loved over Tiger Claw's one and would do the same again without hesitation.
But then… why did he feel so empty?
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Was it how his future looked like? Was he supposed to hone his skills to keep on the path of the perfect killing machine, all the while hoping that he wouldn't have to kill again?
Until next time?
A soft question cut through his train of thoughts.
"Leo?"
Leonardo opened his eyes and smiled to his orange-clad brother. Michelangelo looked like he had barely slept at all, which pulled at Leonardo's heartstrings.
"Yes, Mikey?"
"Can we talk?"
Leonardo tilted his head to indicate that his brother could sit down next to him. He waited until Michelangelo found his words, listened carefully and soothed his fears the best he could. He was rewarded with the perceptible relaxation in his brother's posture, and they sat in peaceful silence for a while.
Leonardo thought the conversation had ended, and didn't expect Michelangelo's sudden question.
"Do you want to talk, Leo?"
Leonardo could tell that at this precise moment he was the only focus of his brother – an almost intimidating feeling, although strangely comforting.
Images of blood and violence ran through Leonardo's head. He thought about his nightmares and his fear that one day, he wouldn't be enough to save them.
Could he really share any of it with his family?
The words of his father rang in his ears.
It doesn't matter that the burden is heavy. It matters that you carry it.
Leonardo stifled a weary sigh. He had no right to overwhelm his brother with the full weight of his responsibilities. It was bad enough that Michelangelo had witnessed him taking a life.
It was almost too easy to keep his features a mask of impassibility as he gave his answer.
"No, thanks, Mikey. I'm fine."
10.
He wasn't fine. He was too used to being honest with himself to deny the truth. He knew it would get better, though.
Eventually.
Besides, he had learned the hard way that his mind could trick him into thinking he was physically injured when said injury had long healed. Maybe he was imagining the weariness and tiredness that made each move feel like he was swimming in molasses. His brothers sure didn't complain about him being too slow during training.
Really, he had no reason to complain. His brothers were in great spirits these days, always organizing movie nights and skateboard parties, inviting friends in the lair and generally teasing each other to no end. He often had April as a partner in his daily meditations. Their enemies kept a low profile.
What more could he have asked for?
Life went on with its waves of jokes and drama, of pizza and fights, of friends and foes.
Each time his burden threatened to become too heavy, and he toyed with the idea of opening up to one of his brothers or April, he heard the echo of his father's voice whisper in his mind -You must be the leader in body and mind, it said, its undertones as loving and encouraging as ever - and he carried on.
Until that night when Karai stepped inside the lair with the clear desire to have a fight written all over her face, and Raphael refused to meet his eye as he and the others left them alone in the lair, and Leonardo realized he never fooled them, not for one second.
11.
"Karai?"
Leonardo could read the tension in her body. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve her wrath, although it was clear that his brothers had wanted her to come.
But if something bothered them that much, why didn't they just talk to him?
"Hi, Leo."
Karai didn't take the tea he offered her, and she didn't sat down when he suggested it; so they kept standing face-to-face in the dojo.
"You know, it really looks like a trap." Leonardo's voice was calm if strained.
Karai shrugged. "That's too bad."
A tensed silence stretched, a silence that Leonardo broke first.
Somebody had to, after all.
"What did my brothers tell you?"
"Oh, nothing. That you're acting weird. That you won't talk to them. That they're desperate."
Her words were so many punches to Leonardo's heart. He felt offended, guilty and hurt; but he wouldn't lose his composure.
"I'm talking to them."
It wasn't a very strong answer, and he knew it.
Karai did, too. "You're not. You're bottling everything up inside. As if… As if..."
"As if what?"
Leonardo's gaze challenged Karai to dare speak more, a challenge she readily rose to.
"As if you were alone!"
It sounded like an accusation, and Leonardo didn't quite understand why.
"Maybe I am alone," he said sadly, his broken voice barely more than a whisper.
"But you're not!" Karai clenched her fists.
Leonardo took a slightly defensive stance, just in case.
"You've never been alone in your entire life," she went on. "Don't try to pretend the contrary. Not to me."
He opened his mouth to answer, but the words didn't come. Even lost in time and space, even injured, even mourning, he had never been truly, utterly alone.
Karai, however, had grown up as a single child, whose so-called father had betrayed in terrible ways. She had wandered the city for months, lonely and lost, her mind almost broken.
She was right. No matter how alone he sometimes felt, he couldn't pretend he was. He was basking in his brothers' presence every day of his life.
"And the fact that you're refusing such a gift..." Karai took a deep breath. When she spoke again, the crack in her voice was almost inaudible. "It's beyond me."
"I'm doing the best I can to be worthy of my father's trust," Leonardo said softly, as if it explained everything.
And to him it did; but not to Karai.
"And he told you to do everything on your own?" She snorted derisively.
Leonardo didn't meet her eye, although he kept watching her for any sudden moves.
Karai almost choked. "What, he did?"
"It's not what you think," Leonardo whispered, embarrassed. "He only wanted to help me be the best possible guide for our family..."
"This is ridiculous!" Karai threw her arms up. "Can't you see how wrong it is?"
Leonardo's stomach churned.
"It's not wrong!"
"Yes it is!"
Karai's words echoed through the dojo, sharp and challenging, as if Splinter's shrine wasn't right next to them; and something in Leonardo rebelled.
"You can't say that!" he shouted.
"Why not? And don't tell me you've never thought Splinter was wrong before! You never hesitated to disobey him when you thought you had to, did you?"
Leonardo remembered the times he and his brothers had broken their curfew, or come to rescue Karai against his father's direct orders, or when he had teamed up with her behind everybody's backs…
"It's different." All of a sudden his voice was cold and emotionless, exactly the way he felt.
"But why, Leo? Tell me why!"
And he wanted to convince her that he was right, that the path he was following was the best possible one – no matter how hard and lonely. He had the safety and happiness of his family at heart, always; he did what had to be done. Surely Karai could understand.
But the words that escaped his mouth had nothing to do with any of this.
"Because he's dead!"
12.
In the heavy silence that fell, Leonardo had plenty of time to regret the words his treacherous brain had just spoken. But they were out in the open, just like the emotions behind them.
Karai's next words were a mere whisper.
"You think I don't know that?"
"Forget it." All of a sudden, Leonardo couldn't bear staying in the dojo where his father's presence was still so strong. Taking the excuse of Karai's untouched teacup cooling down on the floor, he made for the kitchen.
Karai followed him. "Oh no. You've said too much or too little, Leo."
Leonardo shrugged. He felt so tired. If she wanted him to expand, why not? Maybe it would shut her up.
"I just don't want to fail him again." He turned on the faucet to do the dishes, as if it couldn't have waited.
"I don't think you failed him." Karai leaned against the wall to watch him.
"Good for you," Leonardo muttered.
"But even so, he would have understood. He failed me, after all."
Leonardo blinked. "What?"
"He abandoned me. I don't blame him, he thought I was dead. It was still one big mistake."
Leonardo's hands clenched.
"It's different," he said, his voice tense. "We didn't think it was over. In fact, if Donnie, Mikey and I had come back sooner..."
Karai cut him off. "You know what other mistake he made?"
Leonardo sighed. "No, and feel free not to enlighten me."
Karai crossed her arms. "I've a question for you, Leo. Let's say you want to defeat a very powerful, extremely dangerous enemy once and for all. Let's say you have to choose between two individuals to lead a crucial fight. One is young, but has plenty of experience on the battlefield. He leads his team to victory almost every single time."
Leonardo bit his lip, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Karai," he said warningly, hoping she would take the hint and shut up.
She didn't.
"The other is older. He fought one decisive battle more than a decade ago, and lost. Since then he has been hiding, except on one or two occasions... "
"Shut up, Karai," Leonardo said more explicitly, diplomacy be damned. Couldn't she tell he didn't want to hear it, and much less think about it?
They had given her the details of Splinter's last fight – how they had split up in two teams, how it had all been a trap – because she was Splinter's daughter and she had a right to know. It wasn't fair of her to use said details against his Sensei.
But Karai was relentless.
"Now who would you pick as leader to maximize your chances of winning?"
"SHUT UP!"
Leonardo put the half-washed dishes back in the sink before he could break them and closed his eyes. Karai's words were way too close to what he caught himself thinking sometimes, in the briefest of moments before he refocused his train of thought on something less dangerous, less sacrilege.
How dare he think that Splinter's decision had been wrong, that he wouldn't have made the same mistake?
That Splinter would still be alive if he had allowed his son to lead?
He couldn't think ill of his deceased father, he couldn't.
"Just go," Leonardo whispered, his voice hoarse. He wanted – he needed - to be alone.
Karai took a deep breath. Leonardo heard her footsteps decrease as she left the kitchen and almost sighed in relief, grateful in spite of himself because she was finally listening.
He should have known that it wasn't over.
"I'm mad at him for being so short-sighted," Karai said out loud before jumping the turnstiles. "And I've only known him for a few months. You're allowed to be mad at him too."
Leonardo pressed his forehead against the kitchen's cupboard and wished she had never come.
13.
Leonardo was still prostrated when he heard his brothers come back. He quickly straightened up and forced his features to relax.
They would be upset if they knew how terrible he felt, and he didn't want that.
Michelangelo was the first to spot him, either on instinct or because he was heading for the kitchen anyways.
"Hey, Leo!"
Leonardo refused to meet his brother's eye and went back to washing his dishes in the now cold water.
"Hey, Mikey."
Michelangelo took a look over Leonardo's shoulder and put a finger in the sink's water. "How long have you been doing the dishes for, Leo?"
Leonardo didn't answer. He could hear Donatello and Raphael tiptoeing inside the kitchen, but he refused to look at them.
"I mean, wouldn't it be easier with hot water?" Michelangelo turned towards Donatello. "Donnie?"
"Of course it would," Donatello answered.
Leonardo felt weirdly irritated by the fact Michelangelo was criticizing his way of doing the dishes.
"I did use hot water," he said, his eyes still set on the sink. He was fully aware of how ridiculous he sounded, but somehow didn't care.
Michelangelo, never one to let himself be ignored, waved his finger in front of Leonardo's face.
"It's cold."
When Leonardo didn't react, he turned to Donatello.
"Donnie, tell him it's cold!"
Leonardo picked up the slight undertone of despair in Michelangelo's voice and wondered why his brother got this riled up about two teacups in a sink. It wasn't like Michelangelo was fond of that chore, or any chore for that matter.
Donatello cleared his throat. "Considering the heat capacity of water and ambient air temperature, hot water in a sink this size would have time to turn cold in half an hour."
Leonardo frowned slightly. He had lost track of time since Karai left him. How could Donatello know it had been half an hour? Did she text them? If so, what did she tell them?
He took his time to finish his task in the silence that followed Donatello's statement, but there was only so much time you could take to wash, rinse and wipe so little dishware. He finally had to turn around and stop facing the wall.
He tried not to stare at his brothers, but he couldn't help glancing at them and it was enough to tell him how tense they were.
He sighed inwardly. He couldn't just get out of the kitchen and leave them like this, now could he? He had to say something.
"How was your night?" he asked.
Raphael made a strangled little sound that could have meant a million different things.
"Uh, it was nice," Michelangelo answered uneasily. "And… and yours?"
Leonardo considered this. "It was… full of surprises." He hoped it was obvious that the surprise hadn't been good – he didn't forget that his brothers had been the ones to trap him with Karai tonight.
"That's all?" Raphael said in sheer incredulity when Leonardo didn't expand.
Leonardo glared at him. "Yes."
"O-okay. Uh..." Michelangelo hesitated. "There is this movie I want to watch. About zombies. Anybody else?"
"Sure, why not?" Donatello said hurriedly.
Leonardo appreciated their tactful change of topic, he really did, but he wasn't in the mood for a movie.
"No, thanks," he said. "I'll be..."
He stopped. He wanted to say 'in the dojo', but he didn't want to meditate in the dojo, that place where his father's shrine was waiting for him. And he didn't want to go to his room either. In fact, what he truly needed was to breathe the fresh air of the surface. Maybe go on a run. Anything to stop thinking...
"...back soon," he finished, already out of the kitchen and in the living room, only taking the time to grab his swords before he jumped the turnstiles.
Hoping it didn't look too much like he was fleeing.
14.
Leonardo was right, the fresh air did him good. The night was almost at an end when he finally stopped running to sit down on one of his favorite rooftops and enjoy the dazzling sight.
He felt more than heard someone coming close to him.
"Raph," he acknowledged, not moving.
His brother sat down next to him.
"I don't want to talk," Leonardo warned.
Raphael shrugged. "That's too bad, because I do."
"Is anyone going to respect my wishes tonight?" Leonardo allowed himself to roll his eyes in irritation at everyone and everything – but his body was filled with the well-being that followed intense physical practice and his soul was in no mood for a fight.
Contrary to what he had just said, Raphael didn't add anything for entire minutes, to the point Leonardo got the nagging feeling that it was a contest of wills.
Well, he wasn't going to yield first. Not speaking to his brother was…
… disturbingly easy.
He remembered what Karai had told him. Was it really how he appeared to the others? As someone who didn't want to talk?
No. He wasn't going to be that person.
"I don't know what you told Karai, but she was pretty mad."
Raphael threw up his arms. "You didn't let us in!"
"And that's a reason?"
Leonardo realized too late that he hadn't refuted his brother's remark. He should have. He let his brothers in all the time, didn't he?
Didn't he?
"We thought you might accept help from someone known to do everything on her own," Raphael whispered. "That you could relate."
Leonardo put his head in his hands.
"Worst plan ever," he muttered.
"Yeah, sorry."
At least he got an apology from Raphael. That was something.
Silence stretched. This time, it was broken by his brother.
"It's not your fault, Leo."
"What do you mean?" Leonardo answered, genuinely curious.
"You… you didn't fail him."
Raphael's words came out hoarse, but they resonated like a tolling bell inside Leonardo's head.
Either his brother had suddenly become a telepath or Karai had been telling him much more than Leonardo would have dared to imagine.
He was so going to kill her…
Bloody images filled his mind. He blocked them.
No, not kill her. Of course not, it was only a figure of speech. But get back at her, oh yes. How dare she disclose such a private conversation to -
"If someone failed him, it was me." Raphael's fists clenched until his knuckles went white. "I was there, and I couldn't save him. So if you must blame someone..."
Leonardo couldn't believe what he had just heard. "What? No! No way!"
Raphael's gaze was fixed upon the skyscrapers of New York City. "You don't blame me?"
"Of course not! Come on, Raph, I would never!" The very idea made Leonardo sick.
"But you're blaming yourself. Why?"
Leonardo took a deep sigh. He should have seen it coming. He preferred that, though – let it be a cunning scheme to expose his own contradictions. Anything but knowing that his brother was harboring guilt similar to his own… The guilt, and the pain that came with it…
Please.
He suddenly realized that Raphael was waiting for an answer. And after his brother had made himself so vulnerable in front of him, Leonardo didn't have the heart to avoid his question.
Raphael deserved an honest answer.
"Because I'm the leader," he acknowledged. "It's on me."
"Nonsense." The sharp answer cut through Leonardo's self-doubt like a knife. "Sensei was leading. You tried to change his mind, but he wouldn't budge. End of the story."
Leonardo closed his eyes. If only it could be that easy.
The air was warming up – soon the sun would be rising.
"We have to go."
If Raphael thought it was a little too convenient at this point in their conversation, he didn't say it.
As they both climbed down the building to reach the sewers, something occurred to Leonardo.
"How did you find me? I didn't hear you following me."
He didn't think he had been careless enough not to notice, but who knew? He was shaken and maybe it had interfered with his alertness.
Raphael shrugged. "Why run after you when I could wait for you here?"
So he hadn't been careless after all. It was reassuring.
"You were lucky." Leonardo paused. "And patient."
"Sometimes I'm willing to wait," Raphael said curtly.
And Leonardo heard what his brother left unsaid.
I'm willing to wait for you. For as long as I have to.
15.
One year later
It was all about paths.
The ones you took, and the ones you didn't take.
Leonardo thought about his choices as he gazed at the grave.
He remembered…
Another battle, another kill. Again, he didn't have a choice. Or did he?
And the voice in his head, a new voice, whispered.
It's not you. You're merciful, you're not… this… It's not you.
He asked his brothers whether they would be okay with taking a break from crime-fighting. And they, even Raphael, heartily agreed, as if it was all they wanted to hear…
He didn't want to spend his time in April's farmhouse, not with Splinter's grave in its garden. He didn't want to stay in New York where his father's presence was still in every room…
It was Michelangelo who suggested traveling.
Other countries, other cultures, always hidden…
Always together.
They found trouble, of course. They helped strangers. They made new friends and called the old ones.
He told them in Japan, in the very forest where they had time-traveled, about their father's last will.
It turned out that it did matter when the burden was heavy, because then you didn't have to carry it alone.
They came back to New York. Donatello disappeared in his lab for weeks, putting together all the inspiration and knowledge he had gathered during their journey to come up with new inventions and outsmart their enemies, so brute force would become less and less needed.
Michelangelo began gathering their memories of Splinter to write a book about their childhood.
Raphael never left Leonardo's side.
And Leonardo…
He made his peace with his past, his fate, and his future.
There was only one thing left to do.
Now he was in Northampton, and grass blades and leaves were rustling as if all of nature was watching him. Listening to him. Encouraging him…
He knelt in front of the grave.
"You were wrong."
It had been a long way until he acknowledged it, but acknowledging it he had.
"I'll never be a father to them. They don't need me to. They don't want me to..."
They would remain brothers forever, their lives intertwined like threads of the same tapestry, none of them more important than the others.
All of them required to get the big picture.
Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he whispered his next words.
"I forgive you."