Part 4

Racing to beat Raphael home, Leonardo slipped in as quietly as he could. There were tricks to making the door open more stealthily—lifting instead of pushing, holding so that the bricks didn't scrape so loud. He made sure no one was awake or watching and then ran to his room, his cape already stowed in his satchel.

"Did you get it?"

Startled, Leonardo stopped so abruptly that his foot slipped, sending him falling on his side. Groaning as he sat up, he found Donatello sitting crosslegged on his futon, typing furiously on the laptop Leonardo had given him.

"What?" Leonardo said.

"You're already on the news."

Donatello turned the screen so that Leonardo could see the updated news feed of police at the scene and the hasty sketch the victim had drawn, a caped figure leaping over the bed. From within a shadowy hood, two glowing eyes glared out at the screen.

"They won't say what was stolen, but judging from the contract you had bookmarked..."

Donatello smiled knowingly, changing tabs to show the contract job on the stolen book.

"Did you get it?"

Leonardo stared at him for a moment, bit his lip nervously. Then he reached into his satchel and withdrew the book, handing it over. Donatello took it in both hands, gently pulling back the cloth and gazing at the cover. A scent of old pages and ink slipped out as he revealed the worn brown leather, the brass plates secured at the four corners.

"Wow..."

Donatello didn't move for a long time, simply holding the book in his lap. He didn't open it or turn any pages, content to simply hold it. Leonardo wondered what was in the book that his brother seemed so satisfied to hold.

"We can keep it in my lab for now," he said. "I already have the dehumidifier going. Then we can box it up and send it off."

Leonardo breathed out, sitting up and facing his brother with wide eyes.

"You won't..."

"Tell on you?" Donatello's eyes narrowed even as he smiled. "Oh please, give me some credit. I wouldn't do that to you. When you walked in here...I haven't seen you smile like that in ages."

Leonardo lowered his head, glancing sideways. When Donatello waved him close, Leonardo came to sit beside him, leaning against his shoulder. Donatello covered the book and handed it back so it could be hidden in the satchel again.

"Could've told me what Raph is doing at night," Leonardo complained without any heat to his voice.

"Oh, did you meet Nightwatcher?" Donatello laughed, nudging him hard. "Scary costume, huh? Took us forever to get it done."

"You helped him?"

"Of course. I wanted my lab back. He was taking up a whole corner with it." Donatello waved his hand at him. "Don't worry. I definitely won't tell him about you. He made me promise not to rat him out, after all."

Donatello chuckled once.

"Funny, he's the one who went all Batman. I guess that would make you..."

His voice trailed off as he thought better of it, seeing the darkening look in Leonardo's eyes.

"Whatever, whatever. But..." Donatello's smile broadened again. "What were you planning on using the money for?"

"The money?" Leonardo's mind blanked. Donatello had to motion at the screen before he remembered. "Oh, right. For stealing it. Honestly? I wasn't thinking about it."

Donatello frowned. "Then why'd you steal it?"

Leonardo paused. How to explain everything he'd felt, the lift in the air as he ran across the city, his city, and plucked what he wanted? That no one could stop him from taking? The close calls, the dark skies and golden lights sparkling like stars, and the sea salt air crackling like lightning.

That feeling when he took the prize and escaped at the last possible second. Like he'd cut an invisible string from himself and he was as intangible as the shadow trailing after him.

"I get it," Donatello said, watching his eyes grow distant. "You're turning into a thrill junkie."

"It wasn't the thrill," Leonardo insisted.

He shook his head as he tried to put the feeling into words.

"Just that I could do it. I haven't felt alive like that. I'm always watching over my shoulder, watching my next step. I never just...let loose."

Donatello stared at him, studying him closely. Leonardo returned his look, worried by what his brother might find. Donatello seemed to know exactly what he was thinking most of the time, reading his face like a book or manual. It made sense, the engineer puzzling out little details to make a big picture, and Leonardo found that he could never keep anything from his sibling.

It was how Donatello had guessed he could steal his first kiss, after all.

With a faint smile, Donatello brought his hand up, touching his brother's face and sweeping his thumb under Leonardo's eye.

"I think I get it," he said after a moment. "This is what took you so long in Houston, isn't it?"

Leonardo closed his eyes, but not in shame or guilt. He simply couldn't label the emotion. He should have been completely focused on killing his targets, but there had been a pull, a draw to what he was doing. All alone, no family, no backup. Just him and the wind.

"Not just Houston. I didn't have to lead anyone. It was just me. It was so..." He sighed and cut himself off. "That's what I meant, that I wish one of you had come with me. At least one of you. I wouldn't have..."

"Wouldn't have had so much fun?"

Donatello smiled indulgently, softening his teasing as he leaned close, kissing the corner of his eye. Eyes shut with a growing smile, Leonardo nodded once.

"We always said you should cut loose sometimes," Donatello said. "Figures. When you break the rules, you always do it pretty spectacularly. Just try not to fall on your face this time."

Like storming out of the house against his master's orders, or letting his fighting with Raphael escalate as badly as it did sometimes. As Michelangelo liked to remind him, there wasn't just one drama queen in the family.

"Gotcha."

"Good." Donatello uncrossed his legs and stood. "And after we send off this little delight, we can figure out how you're going to help me ship in some cryogenics gear, plus some other stuff I'm gonna save up for."

Cryogenics? Leonardo stared in bewilderment.

"It's hard getting all the parts for the things I want to make," Donatello said. "You'll get a hundred thousand for the Cosmographia. That's more than enough to cover smuggling those things in. I already saw the supplier page in the smuggling forum."

Leonardo couldn't help a chuckle. "And you say I'm going bad? You're going to turn into a mad scientist."

In the doorway, Donatello grinned over his shoulder. "I've always been a mad scientist. It's just now I'll have the funds to really go nuts."

It became a game—go out, run from Raphael, then come home before he did. Sometimes Leonardo stole. Often he didn't. Usually when Donatello said he needed money for something else. His brother seemed to have something big in mind, picking out any sizable contract that Leonardo said he felt confident that he could pull off.

"But Leo, it's a five million dollar contract."

"I'm not stealing the Damascus room," Leonardo sighed, stretched out on Donatello's bed while his brother scrolled through the site. "It's a room, with walls and everything. That doesn't fit in the satchel."

"The Met's security isn't that great," Donatello insisted. "Sure, it'll take a few hours to pull most of the paneling, but with some good planning—"

"Nothing that doesn't fit inside the satchel."

Leonardo crawled up beside him, closing that tab and then kissing him to take his mind off of it. When they separated again, Leonardo lay against his side, fitting comfortably on his shoulder. He nuzzled against his collar, trying to entice him away from the laptop.

"Then how about this jade necklace from the Zhou dynasty...?" Donatello said, switching tabs.

Leonardo groaned and flopped back on the pillow.

On the nights that Leonardo did go out and steal something, he played with fire by trying to find the Nightwatcher. Sometimes it took an hour or more to find Raphael, and sometimes he gave up entirely, spending long nights walking through Central Park simply because the grass and open sky were a nice change from the concrete and steel. And if Raphael did find him, the trees and bridges and greenery provided more than enough cover to escape.

As long as he avoided Nightwatcher on his way home, the Fantasma could pretend to be asleep when Raphael arrived, waking up to a play by play of their chase at breakfast.

"I know he's playing with me!" Raphael slammed his fist on the table, rattling his cereal and pancakes.

Across from him, Leonardo winced over his sweet tea, ignoring his brother in favor of reading the newspaper. Apparently Raphael decided that Leonardo could be trusted to keep his nightwatching quiet from Splinter. If their sensei had been awake, no doubt Raphael would be silently seething over his multi-colored cereal. Maybe Donatello had mentioned to him that Leonardo knew and wouldn't say anything? Either way, Raphael didn't act like he expected a scolding from his big brother.

"Now now," Donatello said, scrolling through the news on his laptop. "He's probably more afraid of you than you are of him."

"I ain't afraid of nobody!" Raphael growled, fiercely picking out the marshmallows in his cereal.

"Of course," Donatello said.

"So why do you think he's playing with you?" Michelangelo asked, mouth half full of syrup and pancakes. "He keeps running away."

"Exactly," Raphael said. "I know he's out looking for me. Downtown ain't that small."

"If you're both running around the city," Michelangelo said, "then why not just stop chasing him? Maybe he'll get bored."

"Hm." Donatello swirled his coffee and glanced at Leonardo curiously. "Do you think el Fantasma would get bored if he wasn't chased?"

Leonardo narrowed his eyes. "Fantasma is a thief. I don't think he's out joyriding."

Donatello smiled. "Of course not."

"And don't call him Fantasma," Raphael growled. "It's Ghost. Stupid news show just reported it stupid and didn't even bother to translate the stupid name."

"You have a point," Donatello said. "But the name definitely stuck."

He turned his screen so that they could see the headline, Fantasma Strikes Again! Ancient Jade Necklace Stolen, followed by a picture of the pale green jewelry shaped like a long dragon. Below that, an artist's rendition showed little more than a dark cloak in the window, jewels in hand.

Leonardo tensed. He hadn't been spotted at all. Someone had taken liberties and his public image was becoming more and more like a costumed cartoon character with the cloak spinning impossibly in the wind. He frowned, not sure if he was offended or not. The picture looked kind of cool, but his personal pride as a ninja was threatened.

"Looks like they suspect Nightwatcher is in cahoots with him," Donatello said, reading the article. "After all, 'the two have been sighted frequently together'."

"Because I'm chasing him!" Raphael groaned, pressing his hands against his head. He threw his arms up in defeat. "Why are humans so dumb? Huh? Is it the black armor? Should I have gone for silver or something shiny?"

"If you're having such a hard time," Michelangelo said, "we could help you chase him. Right, Leo—? Whoa, Donny, you okay?"

Donatello coughed, putting down his coffee as he tried to clear his throat, covering his mouth with his hand. His coughing came fast and forced, and he waved them away with his other hand.

"I'm good, I'm good," Donatello said with a sputter that sounded more like a snicker. "Just got me by surprise, that's all."

"I don't think," Leonardo said, glaring sideways at his brother, then turning to Michelangelo, "that Raphael wants the help. Or did you need us to come with you, Raph?"

"Like hell," Raphael said firmly. "I got this. I'll get him. He's fast, but ain't no way he's as strong as me. I just gotta get my hand around him one time."

"That's...probably true," Donatello said slowly. "Your armor is pretty tough. Not much can go through some of that plating you welded."

Leonardo heard the warning in his brother's voice. He had dodged Raphael so far, but no one could dodge forever. Still, he shrugged. He would just force Raphael to fight where he was at a disadvantage, in tight streets or staggered rooftops or among the hidden recesses of Central Park.

There was a shifting sound from Splinter's room. All of them fell silent, listening closely, but their father's murmurs faded back into light snores. Raphael breathed out in relief and lowered his voice.

"Just once," he promised more to his cereal bowl than his siblings. "Soon as I get my hands on him..."

"Hey Donny," Michelangelo said, pointing at a picture on the screen. "What's Diablo Puerto?"

"Oh, this." Donatello expanded the image of a man being arrested, a large tattoo of a devil on his shoulder revealed as the police forced him into a car. "It's a new cartel trying to move into New York. They're not having much success, but the fighting is starting to catch people in the crossfire."

"Of other cartels?" Michelangelo asked.

"And gangs," Donatello said. "Latin Kings in particular. I don't know what happened, but anytime Diablo Puerto tries to open up somewhere new, there's a serious gun fight and it's mostly devils on the ground."

"Are they just lousy shots?" Michelangelo asked.

"Lousy at choosing their battles," Leonardo said. "They were the ones who targeted April. All three hitmen I killed had DP tattoos."

"Just don't go diving between them when the bullets start flying," Raphael said, putting his hand on Michelangelo's arm. "You ain't got armor."

"Your armor isn't bullet proof," Michelangelo said. "Don't go getting cocky."

"Nah." Raphael shrugged and slurped down the rest of his breakfast. "Hard to get cocky when I can't catch that little damn ghost."

Leonardo smiled behind his tea.

His smile disappeared during early morning practice. Pulling so many late nights left him struggling to keep even with Donatello, who pulled no punches as he enjoyed a rare match where he landed more hits than not. Beside them, Raphael suffered the same with Michelangelo, staggering back on his rear as his little brother delivered a strong punch to his plastron.

"Perhaps, Raphael," Splinter said from the side of the dojo, "you should stay in a night or two and catch up on some needed sleep."

"...yeah, maybe tonight," Raphael mumbled, accepting Michelangelo's hand up. "Can't beat up punks if I'm falling down on the job, huh?"

"No shame in admitting even you need sleep," Donatello said.

"Rich coming from you," Leonardo murmured. "Have you slept this week?"

"Catnaps," Donatello said and smacked one of Leonardo's rising bruises.

At the end of practice, Leonardo made sure Michelangelo put away all their equipment while Raphael swept and Donatello cleared away in the incense. He didn't need to do much, just nod at them to clean up as Splinter called an end to morning training. Four months had left them doing their chores with little griping, even from Michelangelo, who ducked every time Splinter picked up his walking stick.

As for himself, Leonardo sat down to repair two practice swords and fix the leather work on Raphael's second pair of sais. Normally his brother could have done that last part, but he'd encouraged Raphael to head off to his room for a nap, and...if Leonardo had to admit it, he felt a little guilty.

"You could use a few extra hours of sleep as well," Splinter said, coming up behind him. "Your moves are not as clean as they usually are."

"True, sensei." Leonardo sighed. "I've been trying to find the place where Diablo Puerto holes up—"

"Dangerous to go alone on such a mission," Splinter said. "Especially when you have not yet recovered from your trip. Remember, you were isolated without your brothers beside you for months. It will take more than a few weeks to make up for surviving alone."

Leonardo closed his eyes at the memory. Yes, treating strange cities as an uneven playground had been thrilling, but searching out lone killers in those towns, worse—having to sleep lightly for fear that he might be found...

"Hard to break new habits," he said softly.

"Hm?" Splinter tilted his ear closer.

"I'll try to get to sleep earlier," he promised.

When lunch rolled around, however, he had to wake Raphael up from snoozing on the couch just so he could eat. Afterward, as Raphael crashed back on the couch, Leonardo made Donatello promise to wake him up as soon as Raphael rose. He couldn't afford to be slower than his brother.

So it was no surprise when Donatello kissed his temple, rousing him out of sleep.

"Seven thirty," Donatello whispered, looking over his shoulder. "Mikey's in his room reading comics but Splinter's still up watching tv. You can go whenever he goes off to bed."

"Good." Leonardo shook his head, trying to clear it. "I should be all right before I go, but I think I'll keep it to a light job tonight. The comic book one."

Donatello sat beside him, half-shrugging as he set a tablet down by the futon. "You sure? I don't want you trying your luck when you're tired. Do you really have to go out tonight?"

"I'm not just running errands for you," Leonardo smiled. "I was serious about finding Diablo Puerto. I don't like them being so close. What if April picks up something else and we don't notice in time? I want them gone."

"As long as you don't try to take them all out yourself," Donatello said, tapping his finger on Leonardo's shoulder. "Fantasma's a thief, not a one man army."

"I really wish they hadn't stuck with that name," Leonardo said. "I sound like a soft drink."

"That's Fanta," Donatello chuckled as he crept onto the futon. "Scoot over. Everyone says I need to sleep more and this is just too inviting."

Donatello only fell asleep much later, smiling in satisfaction as he lay against Leonardo.

By then, Splinter had finally gone to bed. Leonardo left his brother fast asleep, pulling the sheet over him and moving his tablet so he wouldn't accidentally roll over on it. As soon as he was out of the lair, he threw on his cloak and ran for the culvert.

Taking the comic book was little more than a glorified smash and grab. There was no alarm as he broke into the store, and he found it easily in its glass case with a small light still shining on it. He wondered if this was actually insurance fraud as he took it out, finding it encased in hard plastic. He folded it in cloth to cushion it and set it in his satchel, then left and went looking less for Raphael and more for the gang.

Raphael had said something about scouring Chinatown, looking for half-empty apartments or gutted water towers that could be used as a thief's hideout. Hoping that his brother was no longer in the neighborhood, Leonardo covered ground as fast as he could, tempting fate as he leaped without looking, rolling after longer drops and somersaulting across narrow pipes. He wasn't the acrobat of the family—Michelangelo had that role all sewn up and could have done the same run backwards and on his hands—but Leonardo was no slouch, either. If Raphael spotted him, he simply wouldn't be able to sneak up or surprise him.

Leonardo realized his brother wouldn't be coming up to the rooftops when he heard the gunshots down below.