A/N: I am on a roll cuz I just found out I have absolutely NOTHING to do tomorrow for like the first time in my ENTIRE life. Can you tell I am a teensy bit excited?

Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT

Raphael sat on the edge of the rooftop that he and Leo had stopped on, letting Mikey and Donnie head home without them, his feet dangling over the edge as a salty breeze brushed his face. Leo had unceremoniously left moments ago, leaving Raph to struggle with the emotions racking his mind and body. Leo was right, this Raphael was lifeless, just a hollow shell. Well, not really hollow, it just looked like it from the outside. Inside, Raph was doing his best to exterminate the emotions and feelings that had almost caused him to kill his brother and do so many other stupid things in the past. That night had haunted his nightmares the past weeks since then, bringing to light his greatest faults, and scaring him shell-less. He had always been taught that he needed to control his temper, from both Leonardo and Splinter, even his younger brothers. He remembered the incident years ago when he had almost hit Mikey with a pipe. His anger had blinded him then too. But this time he had been convinced that his anger was the reason they had lost Leo for good, and even though they hadn't said it, Raphael knew that his brothers had been angry and disappointed in him until they had rescued their older brother. The night after they had rescued Leo and defeated the stone generals, Raphael had sworn that he would never lose control of his emotions; and he hadn't since then, but it seemed that with the expulsion of his anger, all of his other emotions were gone too. He felt empty, numb, and lifeless. He had somehow managed to disguise his pain from his family, all except Leo.

Leo would be da one ta notice, he growled to himself.

Leo was right about having no drive to do anything anymore. Raph always felt tired, but found that he couldn't sleep at night. It was hard to pay attention in training, and even to laugh with Mikey. He found that his youngest brother's normal pranks didn't anger him, they just drained his energy. Bags had formed under his eyes, but thankfully his mask hid any sign of his exhaustion. Mikey had been annoyed with his older brother's newly adapted passive nature, and yesterday he had gone to extreme measures, tying those ribbons onto his mask after managing to pin him to the wall. Raph had been furious, and it had felt so good to feel something again, but once Leo had walked into the room, his anger had melted away, leaving him cold and numb again. He hated feeling like that.

But, he though as he stood up and brushed off his legs, it has to be this way. I can't let myself lose control and let myself come that close to hurting one of my brothers ever again.

He took one backwards glance towards the harbor, turned, and jogged towards home.

Leo landed lightly on top of the marble apartment building, his callused feet numbly absorbing the shock from the gravel on the roof. He silently darted to the back of the building and, after making sure there was no sound or lights on, swung down onto the empty balcony. He froze, ensuring that no one had heard him, before moving towards the girl's window. He balanced on the small ledge, holding onto the stone pillars with one hand like before. Something brushed his hand as he adjusted his hold. He spun, latching onto it, before he realized what it was. A small shred of thick paper was clutched in his hand, writing staring out at him. He gingerly opened the paper.

I don't know if you are the person that left my journal on my windowsill, but if you are, I would like to thank you. And thanks for the compliment. It was appreciated. If you don't mind my asking, if you ever find this, who are you?

~Bree

"Kinda vague," Leo whispered to himself before closing the note and tucking it into his leather belt. He was just going to check to make sure she was okay; then he would leave and never come back. He couldn't answer the note. She would find it gone and know that whoever had returned her journal was gone. Well, at least he hoped so.

He gripped onto the edge of the window sill, his body lightly pressing against the cement as he peered into the dark room. The covers on the bed were ruffled, but not enough to hide a body. He searched the room for its inhabitant, and finally saw the bottom of her feet resting on the couch arm, the rest of her hidden from view. He moved to leave, but his conscious tugged him back towards the window. He sighed, and gently pushed on the glass. He half expected it to be locked, but the latch came free under his push, and he lightly stepped into the room. The eerie moonlight only covered a small patch on the floor, but it gave enough light for him, a trained master of stealth and shadow, to clearly see the room. He silently made his way to the couch, his breathing slow and steady, his muscles tense, ready to disappear, as he gazed over the back of the couch.

The first thing Leo noticed was how old and tired she looked. He couldn't believe he was staring into the face of a teenager. Even in sleep, she looked drained and tense, not peaceful like he would have expected. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with her dark hair. She was small and lanky, as if she wasn't eating enough. He grimaced at the way her cheekbones stuck out from her face, and her eyes sunk back. She had dark bruises along one side of her neck, and several dark imprints on her arms. A blanket covered most of her body, but a long cut along her arm peaked his curiosity, and he tugged the cloth back. He nearly jumped when an object clattered to the floor. The girl moaned and shifted, her cut arm becoming fully visible. Leo's mouth dropped open.

Line upon line of bloody cuts and scars laced her entire left forearm, some fresh and bleeding, others looking older. He moved, and was only partially surprised to see a glinting knife had fallen from her side, a sticky coat of blood along the edge.

Leo suddenly felt two extreme emotions. One, sadness at seeing the girl injured, and anger. He felt the unfamiliar sting of fury grip his stomach, but he had no idea at what. At the girl for purposely hurting herself, or at the people that made her feel worthless enough to take such extreme measures. The fury faded as he unexpectedly yawned. He needed to be home. It had been nearly an hour. He picked up the bloody knife, wiped it clean on his leather pad, and tucked it into his belt. He started to feel lightheaded and dizzy, but he quickly wrote another note, this time leaving it tucked under the pillow she slept on, and fleeted out the window, leaving no trace that he had been there.