WARNING (to Leo fans): Let's just say that I haven't cast him in the best light here….

I always looked forward to sparring with him. As the only member of the team who took a purely defensive stance on warcraft, he kept me on my toes. Where Raph would use brute force to bludgeon opponents into defeat or Mikey use a combination of aerobatics and dumb luck, he kept the physical and mental planes separate. He would throw his body into the motions of a match while his mind dissected the stratagem of the adversary. He regularly won over half of our matches.

Grinning, I eyed the position he'd taken: legs spread wide, knees slightly bent, staff floating at his side. He was in a near crouch, ready to spring. I could feel lines of confusion pinching around my eyes. The odd offensive posture did not startle me as badly as the shadow that passed over his face. He looked like he was absolutely dreading the fight.

And suddenly, so was I.

But before either of us could voice concern, a sharp "Hajime!" split the air, and we fought under the careful eye of our sensei.

My brother's face was impassive, unreadable as we fought. I brought my swords up to meet the hardwood that nearly split my head in two. He took a short jab at me, and I shamefully fell for the fake. The opposite end of the staff broadsided me, and I was sure I was not the only one who gaped at the feral growl that escaped him.

"Sensei…" I tried cautiously.

He narrowed his eyes, studying us. I risked a second to scan his face, only to see his jaw go slack in fear. The faint sting of instinct caught the knife before it reached my abdomen. He roared as he pinned me to the ground.

"Murderer," he hissed, eyes blank with hatred.

I stilled. "What?"

"Enough!" Sensei separated us, sparing a moment to take note of my minor injuries before leveling a heated stare at the resident genius-turned-basket case. "You will remove your weapons and leave the dojo."

The shock of disgrace snapped him out of his daze and his face slowly crumpled in horror. "What did I…?" He winced. "Hai, Sensei."

He dropped his bō and stripped off his belt and left without a word, and I tried to keep my focus on the rest of the session.

Later, I found him on the couch. I gently placed his belt across his legs and eased myself onto the worn sofa. "You alright?"

"I nearly killed you."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"No."

I couldn't tell if that was an agreement or the answer I wanted. I tried again. "You just got wrapped up in the fight. Happens to all of-"

"Leo, I wanted to kill you."

"-us."

I could feel myself pale at the soft admission and abruptly regretted giving him back his weapons. He fingered a shuriken as he spoke.

"I...I really did...um…" He swallowed thickly and fell silent.

"I'm listening," I prompted.

He steadfastly refused to meet my eyes, but at least he was speaking.

We were tentatively going to head out two nights from now, and only Mikey had opted to stay at the base. He hadn't told me much of what had happened between our siblings, but from what I gathered, it hadn't been clean or civil. Once the plan was solidified, Raph had just vanished. I had a feeling he would be scouting the route we planned on taking, eager to jump on the first clearing we got.

Leo spent one watch in the infirmary before taking off into the city, and my curiosity got the better of me. I followed him to a warehouse on the river. He was speaking briefly with a boy, maybe my age. The teen tensed at something that was said and slowly backed away. And then he was on him.

The stunned look on the lad's face mirrored my own. I could see the angle of entry forced the blade through the stomach and possibly a lung. Something in his countenance changed as the pain worked its way to his nerves. His eyes went wide as he screamed. He just screamed and screamed, and my brother looked down at the hand that held the sword…

...and he twisted it.

The youth flinched before falling to the ground, the impact eliciting a howl of agony. And when the sound just stopped, I turned my head away. Blood began streaming toward the shallow end of the roof where I hid. I knew all too well the sensations of death.

Sharp steel against his neck, pressing harder, harder. Lifeblood slipping away, sticking to his killer. The weight of a powerful body crushing, crushing, crushing and suddenly relenting...

...to receive payment for the deed.

He deftly caught the satchel of whatever passed for monies and bid his goodbyes to his current employer. He ripped open the bag with his teeth, and I could see the sharp glint of silver in the moonlight.

I heard him sigh in something that sounded suspiciously like content. The sudden shivers in my limbs had nothing to do with the cold breeze. His dark eyes roamed over the victim, and his let his fingers run almost lovingly through the blonde hair. Feeling for the severed neck, he smiled at the horrified gasps blowing bubbles in the blood.

"Shh, sshhh," he cooed. "Don't struggle. Don't struggle. Easy, easy now."

Nausea seized at my throat, and his sick words of solace cut off as I heaved onto the pavement below. So much for secrecy. As I wiped strings of saliva and bile from my mouth, I was aware of his gaze penetrating the back of my neck and unconsciously laid a hand on the tanto in my belt.

Behind him, the poor young man finally expired.

I felt my mouth twist as a slew of words and curses fought to get free. "What...what are you?"

"A survivor. Nothing more, nothing less."

I dropped to my knee, barely noticing how it slid the fresh blood. The body seemed to sag as the life stream trickled to stop. My vision went as red as the stained slate tiles, and I launched myself at him. The tackle caught him off-guard, but he recovered quickly and rolled so that an arm could use my weight against me. I saw the joint-lock coming but didn't have time to get out of the way.

"How could you, nii-san?" The words were raw with anguish. "How could you? How could you?"

I cried out as he bent my arms in an unnatural angle, his anger tearing muscle and tendon. "You don't get it, do you? Our family is over. Our honor is over. The WORLD is over! I don't know where you've been, and quite frankly, I don't care! Love, compassion, tradition mean nothing to anyone old enough to say them! They don't fill your stomach. They don't slake your thirst. They don't give mercy to the weak. And they don't give this damned existence a meaning!

"Wait until you've had to slit a child's throat to end her suffering or 'til you've watched comrades impale themselves on what you hope are only rust covered steel beams or 'til you wake up screaming into the night and have to cut yourself to see the blood to know your body still lives…" he shuddered and all the fight drained out of him suddenly.

He threw an indifferent glance at the cooling corpse and walked all the way over to the edge of the building without stopping. I lunged for his arm, knowing I wouldn't get there in time, praying I would. He let his toes grip the lip of the roof and stood rock solid against the wind.

"Just wait until your mind dies and you don't have to think about what you do 'cause you're just existing, just existing like every other godforsaken squatter in this town."

I had no answer for the forlorn whispers. I had...nothing. No comrades, no father, no brothers.

"Just a plan. Just that damned plan," he finished.

I could feel my mouth hanging open, and I just sat there with him as his voice broke. What could I tell him that could counter what he had seen?

A thought struck me, a memory from our childhood and one of the few quiet moments I'd had just with him. We'd both taken to the arts faster than the others, and I'd loved listening to him read aloud. Of all of us, he had the deepest appreciation for the cadence and tone of language and could draw us into a story or a poem within a few well spoken sentences. The book he had chosen that particular day was old and faded, and I was sure I was the only one who remembered it.

I licked my lips nervously and whispered, "'Let me do my work each day; and if the darkened hours of despair overcome me, may I not forget the strength that comforted me in the desolation of other times.'"

He stilled as I repeated the poem from memory, and I could see his lips moving as he mouthed the words.

"'May I still remember the bright hours that found me walking over the silent hills of my childhood, or dreaming on the margin of a quiet river, when a light glowed within me, and I promised my early God to have courage amid the tempests of the changing years.'"

He continued reciting to himself, an ear cocked toward my voice as I spoke. "It's not my place to tell you not to mourn, not to question. I can't tell you that I will never give up, and I can't tell you that our bond will never suffer. You've seen that it can." I pulled his head down to my shoulder. "But I can tell you with absolute certainty that for as long as God wills, you will have us at your side, fighting as one."

He sniffed and said nothing as he extracted himself from the embrace. I shut my eyes tightly against the wellspring bubbling up. His footsteps were soft and plodded to his room, the door shutting behind him. I sighed, hating the pain I couldn't fix, hating the memories I couldn't steal.

It was going to be a long time before he shook himself free of the guilt and the doubt and the questions.
...

Spare me from bitterness and from the sharp passions of unguarded moments. May I not forget that poverty and riches are of the spirit.

Though the world knows me not, may my thoughts and actions be such as shall keep me friendly with myself.

*From 'A Prayer,' by Max Ehrmann

A/N: *peeks out from behind furniture* Are the rabid Leo fans gone? Can I come out?

This is what happens when Pandora plays four different versions of 'Mad World' on the same station in 2.5 hrs.

Okay, so Leo fluffiness is almost always a given when one of the others is in some kind of pain. But, I mean, fluff won't magically fix Don, and Leo knows it, so he just lets him know he's there and they'll give him as much time as he needs to work through things. And..I really hope no one (*coughDonniecough*) is incredibly out of character...?

Oh, and apologies if you find any grammar/spelling mistakes. I seriously spent the past four hours on this, and my eyes are too tired to catch everything. Just point out anything you see and I'll fix it, 'kay, thanks!

As bad as I feel for Donnie, this story is one I've really enjoyed writing. I don't know how else to continue, but I really don't want to stop with just three chapters. Thoughts, questions, comments?