Author's Note - Yes, I was stuck. Hopefully that's done with. I want to thank TreeStar for a timely review with a simple request that managed somehow to unstick me. I know I'm bad about responding to feedback, but this is proof I at least read and adore it.

He could still hear Raph's voice in his head, calling his name over and over again, building into a panic. Wanting help, wanting answers. Scared, and Raph was never scared. Not by anything.

But Don couldn't help him.

All he could do was mutter something vague about there being a few reasons it might be happening. He had to stare in the terrified eyes of his strongest brother and say he just didn't know.

Part of Don, the darker, inner part that he didn't like to listen to because it could be selfish and petty, said it was Raph's own fault. Why should Don kill himself looking for answers when Raph did it to himself, by disobeying at every chance the orders Don gave him.

But he wasn't really given to selfishness, and any time that petty voice piped up the rest of his brain supplied the image of Raph trying to get to the bathroom. Standing against the wall, clammy and almost cowering from fighting off their attempts to help.

Or saying that he would rather die than be in bed for the rest of his life.

Raphael was proud, and that wasn't a new thing. For Don to say he loved his brothers he had to love the good and the bad sides, and Raph's pride could be a very good thing at times. But Raph would let his pride kill him, and that Don wouldn't accept.

Don couldn't stop looking for answers. No more than he could walk away from one of them wounded by sword or shuriken, he couldn't leave Raph with frozen legs.

His brothers joked a lot, all through their lives, about Donnie being as good as a mother to them. In a way the jokes were accurate - as much as Leo tried to play father when Splinter gave him the authority, Don was left to patch wounds and soothe egos. Don was the one who worried about security and found ways in computers and books to set up alarms. He was the one who made sure they ate, and slept, and didn't train too hard all at once.

It was his job. He'd done it for so long that he became mother, and when Raph had woken up without feeling in his legs it was Don he yelled for. Don he begged for help.

How could anyone who cared about their family ignore that responsibility?

Don looked at his own hands and saw the hands that had pried a bullet from his brother. Those were the hands that saved his life, and the ones that might have been angled in just the wrong way to have touched the wrong nerve or jostled the wrong muscle and eventually paralyzed Raphael.

Responsibility. He took it up because it was in his nature, and Don was brave enough to take the bad with the good. If he owned up to saving Raph's life he would also own up to possibly hurting him worse.

And he would make it right. Because that's what mothers supposedly did.

The faint smoke-tinged scent of jasmine filtered through the door. The soft light from inside the room curled and danced on the walls.

Leo drew in a breath and released it softly.

What right did he have to disturb his father, his sensei, in this peaceful room?

Splinter's rooms had always held a special place for Leo. Stepping through that doorway was an instant release from the loud, chaotic world outside. Meditation, quiet lessons, talks about art and beauty. It was a haven for him.

And for Splinter even more a haven. An escape from the four teenagers he had somehow managed to raise despite their impossible beginnings. A retreat to an old world he remembered only through instinctive memory - seen from the eyes of a common rat, and then remembered in the brain of Splinter as he was now.

Leo had no right to disturb that. He had no right to bring more chaos into Splinter's life, to present him with a reality he might find abhorrent somehow.

He didn't want his memories of that peaceful room to include something ugly. He didn't want to see Splinter's face curl in disappointment or disgust.

He couldn't do it.

Leo stepped away from the door, from the flickering candle light and the jasmine air. He turned.

His eyes stopped on the door to his bedroom, cracked open, sitting silent and dull.

He swallowed and drew in a breath.

Mike was right to make him think about this. Before a gunshot and a few mumbled words on an alley floor, he had never thought about Raphael as anything but a brother. An infuriating foe at times, a hotheaded teammate. But nothing else.

Maybe he was carried away by everything and really hadn't thought through his own feelings. Raph said the words - he could deny them all he wanted, but he had said them. Don had echoed it, apparently having seen Raph's love for years.

Years.

And Mike accepted it, smiling and warm as always.

But how did Leo feel?

Was he so surprised, so flattered, that he let himself get caught up in some strange human notion of love? Was he smug, because his most stubborn and most frequent foe confessed love, and with it weakness and vulnerability? Was he amused, disgusted? Anything? Everything?

Leo liked to think he knew himself well. He knew what he could do, what he needed work at. But in this he was at a loss.

He knew that when Raph's eyes opened the first time after he was shot - with Leo clutching his hand and calling for him - it felt like something real. When he thought of that lost look on Raph's face as he stood there moments before falling, calling for Leo...

He looked back at past fights and his mind focused on the burn of Raph's eyes when he was angry. The low growl in his voice when he defended something Leo had dismissed.

He had bathed Raph more than once while he was asleep, but the last time, when he was awake and aware...

There had been a moment. He looked from his work to Raphael's face, and he saw something he didn't have words for. Something beautiful. Something that wanted, longed, and couldn't be controlled.

Leo didn't doubt that if Raph had a choice, he wouldn't have chosen Leo. Maybe Mikey, who somehow got along with him despite his moods. Maybe Don, whose gentleness might have soothed his anger. Not Leo. Not the one he raged at so easily.

There was denial in Raph's eyes, every time the subject came up. Every time Leo came too close. Denial and an old pain.

But that was Raph. That was Raph's truth to deal with. Leo had to find his own.

If he never mentioned any of this again, it would be over. If he never countered Raph's last argument, never spoke to Splinter, they could simply go on as they were. It might be awkward now and then, but Raph was so good at keeping himself from the rest of them that there might even come a time that they'd forget this ever happened.

If he wanted, Leo could have life back the way he'd always known it.

He leaned against the wall beside Splinter's open doorway, looking out with blank eyes. He could have Raph as the irritating, disobedient brother again. Nothing more. No more hoarse denials, no more heated looks. Nothing but more of the same.

The idea made him draw in a breath, and the twist in his chest was so tangible he actually raised a hand to his plastron, to soothe the ache.

And there it was. Really, it was that simple.

Maybe Leo hadn't considered it before now, but now that he had it seemed the only right thing. He wanted to see what Raph might be like under his shields. He wanted Raph to say those words from the alley again - love you - but with his eyes wide open and a smile on his face.

He wanted to know Raph as more than the dark cloud glaring from the distance. He wanted to know how Raph loved, and how Leo could love him back.

But was that enough to face his father, to introduce ugliness into that peaceful room to prove to himself, and to Raph, that he was serious?

He rubbed at his chest absently.

A moment later he was inside Splinter's room, waiting for permission to move in further.

The words were starting to blur on the screen, and when he had to squint to finish sentences Don finally gave up, sitting back in his chair and sighing in frustration.

On his desk were books opened to tabbed pages, and from the pile he pulled the top one.

Psychology, and that wasn't exactly a specialty of his. He preferred the cold facts and decisive charts of physical problems, not the speculation and uncertainty of mental ones. But this could offer a solution, and he wasn't about to let an answer slide through his fingers by limiting his research.

He was just about halfway through the first paragraphs in the marked section when he realized he had no idea what he'd just read. He was skimming the words but absorbing nothing.

Grimacing he dug the heel of his hand into his eyelids, ordering himself to wake up, focus. This was too important, and he had an entire family counting on him.

When his hand dropped to his lap and his eyes peeled open again, Mike was sitting on his bed.

He jumped, but only a little. "I didn't hear..."

Mike grinned. "Ninja."

Don tried on a wan smile of his own. "Right. Look, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now."

"I know."

Don waited, but Mike didn't move from the bed. He cleared his throat after a moment. "So I should get back to it."

"That's debatable."

He blinked.

Mike cocked his head, studying Don. "When's the last time you got any sleep?"

Don hesitated just a moment too long. "I slept last night."

"Uh huh." Mike smiled and stood, moving to the desk. "I'm gonna guess that you passed out with your face in one of these books and woke up an hour later and got right back to work."

Don's eyes dropped. His face felt suddenly warm.

"See how wicked smart I am?" Mike's hand came down on Don's shoulder, a warm pressure. "So here's what I think. I think you should shut the books and unplug the computer and get a solid nine hours of snore time in."

"If I could, I wou--"

"Of course you can. You've got that nice big bed over there, and frankly you look so awful I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't be website surfing for a cure for whatever it is you've come down with."

Don smiled, but spoke firmly. "I can't. There's too much to do here."

Mike hesitated. "Don...I don't wanna have two brothers out of commission."

"Mike." Don drew in a breath, trying not to snap at his brother. Mike never meant badly, but this kind of harping was exactly what Don didn't need. "Look. Every one of these books represents a different theory about what might be wrong with Raph." He gestured at the overflowing desk. "Until I know every possibility, I won't know how to handle snapping him out of it. If I don't figure that out, he's going to be stuck in that bed until he's gone. And you know what I mean by that."

Mike winced, his eyes averting.

Don took that as triumph. "Now get out of here. I know I need to rest, but I can't until I get through this. Which means all you're doing is slowing me down."

Mike looked back at him, head cocked to the side, just slightly. Just at the slight tilt that meant his eyes were suddenly seeing more than they had been before.

Don faced him, steady, but something in the back of his mind was telling him to stop. "You want to go bother someone, bother Raph. I'm sure he would appreciate it."

"But you--"

"I'm not looking for help. And I'm sure not looking for someone to diagnose my problems." Don spoke lowly, as much a growl as he could manage. "Leave me alone."

Mike stood and moved to the door.

Don watched him go, waiting until his door was shut before he breathed out air and slumped in his chair.

Guilt was instant in its attack, making its way up his spine and into his throat until he had to swallow down something like nausea. He turned around and hiked the textbook onto his desk.

Occasionally the patient may present with genuine medical illness prior to or during the course of somatization disorder. In such instances, the somatic complaints are far beyond the expected actual manifestations of the

Man, his head was starting to hurt. If he wasn't so out of it he wouldn't have ordered Mikey around like a jerk.

He hadn't said anything unforgivable, at least. Compared to Leo and Raph, who used words as weapons often, he'd been downright gentle. He had too much to worry about to spare his brother's feelings.

Anyway, Mike bounced back from things.

Psychodynamic factors provide the most interesting frame for thinking in the attempt to understand the drive behind somatic disorders. These factors include repressed hostility, anger, alxithymia, and using bodily metaphors to communicate an unconscious conflict or express emotional distress.

And honestly, considering how tired Don was and how bad Raph's condition was getting, he thought he handled himself well.

Don sighed and rubbed at his eyes again. Face it, he told himself. You're just not good at being rude. He almost envied Raph the talent. It was hard to sort out how Raph could so easily snap at them, though. Did he not notice how badly they were hurt, or did he just not feel any guilt about--

Okay. Work. He had to stop his thoughts trailing off. Bad enough he could blather about things out loud, he should at least be able to control his own thoughts.

Psychopharmacalogical interventions may be useful, especially when depression, anxiety, or panic symptoms coexist with Somatization

A smell, something rich and wonderful, suddenly filtered through his sleep-deprived senses.

"Here."

He turned in his chair, drawn more by the smell than the voice, and his hands snapped out of their own accord and latched onto the steaming cream-colored mug. He drew it in and inhaled, and just the smell of coffee was enough to sharpen his vision and improve his posture.

He looked out past the steam.

Mike smiled. "If you can spare a few minutes, there's dinner. I'll even bring it to you so you don't have to move."

Don's face fell. The guilt that was making itself at home in his spine gave a wrenching twist. "Mikey..."

"I'll take that as a yes." Mike grinned and shot out the door again.

Don shut his eyes, breathing in the coffee. He took a small sip, and it was just as wonderful as it smelled.

His stomach gave a loud, gravelly rumble when he swallowed, and distantly he wondered how long it actually had been since he went out and got himself some food.

Mike was back before he could piece his movements together. He had one of Splinter's trays in his hand, and on a plate steamed three huge triangles of--

"Pizza?" Don smiled before he could stop himself, or remember to be serious.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Kind of. It's just the frozen store kind. Case brought it from him and April when he was here. Anyway, it's good enough for now."

Don's stomach gave another embarrassing gurgle, and he chuckled quietly. "I guess I can't refuse."

"Good." Mike moved to the desk and nudged some books out of the way, fortunately being careful not to shut any open pages or disrupt and of Don's clumsy scribbled notes. He set the tray down and stood back. "You sit and eat, and I'll take over worrying for now."

"You're going to worry for me?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "Oh, hang on." He grabbed the tray just as Don's hand was about to close on a slice of pizza. "Come here. Eat on the bed. I can't be a serious worrier and all without a big important desk to sit at."

Don groaned, but pushed to his feet and followed Mike obediently.

Mike set the tray on his mattress and took the coffee from Don's hand to put on the table beside the bed. "Now. Sit. Eat."

Again, Don obeyed.

Mike went to the desk, but wheeled Don's chair over towards the bed and dropped into it.

Don took a small bite of pizza, feeling like he was under scrutiny. The moment he swallowed that first bite, though, he wasn't thinking about scrutiny anymore. He was devouring first that slice then another, and he wasn't sure that he even breathed until he was halfway through the last one.

When he recovered his wits and could slow down to nibble a bit on the final crust, he lifted his eyes to Mike and didn't even bother excusing himself. "You're better than I deserve, Mikey."

Mike grinned. "I know. So you owe me a favor now."

"Do I?" Don swallowed a few gulps of cooler coffee, sighing in pleasure. "I'm sure you've got one all thought up already."

"Yep. Lay down."

Don blinked.

Mike nodded at the bed. "You owe me."

"And you want me to lay down?"

Mike nodded.

Don hesitated, but smiled and scooted further onto the bed, sliding his legs up around the empty tray. "You just fed me a giant cup of coffee. This isn't going to put me to sleep."

He settled back, though, and somehow the moment he was horizontal his entire body seemed to sigh, to want to stretch out and unfurl from the hours of huddled studying. Like his center of gravity suddenly changed, melting him flat and heavy on the bed.

Mike appeared at his side, sitting on the edge beside him. "I have a confession to make," he said with a smile.

Don's eyelids seemed to be under the same spell his body fell under, but he kept them open and focused on Mike with a bit of effort. "Do tell."

"The coffee? Was decaf."

Don groaned, but it was faint and insincere. He was too comfortable where he was to complain with any real heat. And okay, he hadn't slept enough or eaten enough to be fully functional, so maybe Mike had a point.

A warmth on his face made his eyes open again - right after he realized they were closed - and he blinked up at Mike.

"It's okay." Mike's hand smoothed over his temple again, slow and gentle. "Stupid genius, trying to kill yourself just like Raph is."

"'m not," Don protested, thick and low. His eyes shut and he didn't bother fighting it.

"Are too. Anyway, if there's answers in those books we'll find them. At least we know Raph has to stay in bed until we do."

Don grinned. "Not funny," he murmured, leaning his face in to Mike's touch.

"No, not really. But true." Mike leaned in closer - Don could feel the air around him warming. "See you in the morning, genius." There was a press of warmth against his temple, a kiss, and then the warmth was gone.

Don pried his eyes open, watching Mike gather up dishes. He smiled before he could fight it - even sleep couldn't have driven that smile back. "You know something?"

Mike glanced back. "What?"

"I could read every book I've got, but there's something about Raph I'll never figure out."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm." Don curled on his side. "What was wrong with him that could possibly keep him from being cheered up by you."

Mike seemed surprised by that. "You said it yourself when we talked about him. If he was right for me, I would've been enough."

"In that case," Don said, voice thick and drowsy, "I'm starting to be glad he's a miserable jerk."

Mike blinked. He looked down, and a darker green flush stole over his face. His mouth curled up in a small, somehow private sort of smile.

But Don's eyes slipped shut again before he could interpret it, and his thoughts went fuzzy at the edges. If Mike answered he didn't hear it.

He was distantly aware of the press of another warm kiss on his forehead, and he had a sudden clear thought come through the fog:

Maybe he wasn't the only mother in the family.

Leo dropped to his knees gracefully, his hands resting on his thighs.

Across from him Splinter sat, a solid presence amid the flickering light of the dozen or so candles around him. He waited, but when Leo didn't speak right away he gave a slight smile in offering.

"My son. Your troubles are so loud in your mind that they carry into mine. It isn't meditation you've come for, so what is it?"

Leo drew in a breath and looked down at his hands. He spoke slowly, as fitting the words of a son about to forever change his relationship with his father. "I need guidance. There are feelings I have...thoughts as well. And I'm not sure if they're right or wrong."

"Yes, you are."

Leo looked up at that, eyes wide.

Splinter smiled. "You know if these feelings are right for you. Only the least self-aware mind in the world could doubt something like that, and you are hardly that. We all have instincts, we all have conscience. We know whether our feelings are right for us. What we doubt is whether they are right in the context of the world around us."

For a jarring moment Leonardo would have sworn that Splinter already knew why he was there and was speaking specifically.

But, no. The words might have fit any other troubled thoughts Leo had.

He nodded finally. "They're right. For me."

"Leonardo." Splinter's smile faded. "Our world is smaller than the world aboveground. We have this family, and that's all we have. Are you so doubtful about what your family might say in reaction to these thoughts of yours?"

"No." Leo drew a breath. "Not my family. Only my father."

Splinter's eyes sharpened, but his face didn't change. He nodded once. "Between you and I, even more than your brothers, there have been few secrets."

"That's why I'm here." Leo fell silent, though, his breathing faster than it had been minutes ago. It shouldn't be so hard. It shouldn't have felt so consuming. "I wouldn't proceed without your consent. I wouldn't act if it goes against your will. If you tell me it defies your teachings..." He stopped then, because he was already talking himself out of saying anything. His habit was to be more direct than this, especially with Splinter. This talking around the issue did them all a disservice.

And as he spoke the words he wasn't entirely convinced of them. Would he be able to abandon this so easily if Splinter objected? He wasn't sure, and Splinter would see that.

Splinter sat, silent, giving him time.

Leo swallowed and sat up straight, looking his father in the eye. "My feelings for one of my brothers has changed. Has become something new entirely."

For a moment, nothing. Then a short, terse nod and Splinter's eyes left Leonardo and shuttered in thought.

It was the worst kind of torture. Leo's palms felt damp and warm, and the smoke of the incense was starting to burn his eyes, though it normally didn't bother him.

He caught himself holding his breath, and released a shuttered sigh. He couldn't read anything on Splinter's face. He had no idea if his few words were enough, if Splinter might be mistaking his intent. But he didn't speak. He doubted he could have if he wanted to.

When Splinter stirred, a minute or ten might have gone by. He turned his face back towards Leo, and softly cleared his throat. "When you and your brothers were transformed, you were infants. Too young to retain any memories of an animal life. For myself, I was already old for my species. Without the mutagen I might have lived another few months, perhaps a year. Not more. My entire life - three years of it, you understand, but an entire lifetime to a rat - had already gone by."

Leo sat silent, his eyes down, respectful.

"An animal's mind...it is a very different thing than these minds we have developed. I saw and understood a good deal, but I knew much less. Things were simple. Humans have a thousand words for something as simple as 'snow', but for an animal there aren't a hundred things in this world that need to be identified. Food, shelter, water. Procreation." His mouth curved up slightly.

Leo's throat worked. No, Splinter hadn't misunderstood his words.

"My dilemma has always been, with which side of myself do I approach particular situations? With my animal mind, the one natural to me, or this mutated brain I have lived with so much longer, and used to grasp so much more than I ever knew." He hesitated, his dark eyes drifting off again. "As an animal, I am well aware that there is no one in the world, and will never be anyone, with which I might continue my line. I am alone, to live out this extended life and die leaving nothing of myself behind." Splinter raised a hand, palm out.

Leonardo's mouth shut, and his automatic protest was swallowed back.

Splinter nodded. "For you, my sons, the struggle is similar. You will never reproduce. You are not alone - you have each other - but in terms of mates and children, you are as alone as I am." He smiled suddenly, thin and edged. "You come to me in such despair because you expect the part of me that is human will object. For which human reason should I? He is your brother - we assume, though of course four turtles in one small bowl might have any number of different parents. Then again, in the animal world siblings frequently reproduce together. In the animal world, males trapped in zoo cages with only other males will often choose one as companion, even as sexual partner. I understand in the human world there are those who object to like genders mating."

Leo was starting to regain the ability to breathe on his own. His eyes were on Splinter by then, locked and hopeful, and something bright was stirring in his chest.

Splinter sighed. "I am not human. Nor are you. Our bodies are in between animal and human, and so our lives are also in between." He reached out suddenly.

Leo didn't hesitate, grasping his father's furred hand tightly.

"I consider you my children - that is the human side of me. As a parent I wish only for happiness and long lives for you all. As a sensei..." He hesitated.

Leo's dawning relief was muted.

Splinter looked out at the room and Leo followed his gaze: the screen paintings and calligraphy, the books on shogun and Buddhism, the arts and philosophies he had tried so hard to teach them.

"As a sensei I teach you to fight, and I attempt to teach focus, and honor, and duty. Those are things both human and animal can value. The more narrow sides, the lists of dos and don'ts, the mandates about how to behave, those are meant for life aboveground. We alter those rules, embrace what we can and consider the rest to be helpful suggestion." He turned back to Leo. "All of which is to say, as a sensei I am not fit to judge you in this matter."

Leonardo spoke softly. "As your son, I would like to know what you think."

"Beyond all my battling instincts, you mean?" Splinter chuckled, rasping and low. "If we who are destined to be alone can find companionship and love with each other, what is there to stop us?" He met Leo's eyes suddenly. "If at this moment, when my Raphael lies in the darkest hour of his dark life, you desire to make him happy, how could I object? Why should I? How could any parent refuse a child's happiness if it is in their power to give it?"

Leo breathed in. "You..."

Splinter smiled. "I'm not entirely blind, my son."

A laugh sprang from Leo, shocked and stuttered. "I don't know why I still manage to be surprised by how much you know about everything."

Splinter shrugged. "It is the duty of a parent to keep a child in awe."

Leo laughed more sincerely then. His nervousness had vanished, swept away by Splinter's smiles and gentle words.

But even as he laughed Splinter's expression changed. "Leonardo, there is one matter that might give me pause before I grant you my blessings."

Leo's expression schooled itself, but he couldn't manage to feel the nervousness return. He knew how Splinter felt, and anything else could be got over. "Please, tell me."

"You are more than a brother to my other three sons." Splinter regarded him. "You are the leader in a team of ninja. You must be impartial. If you for a moment allow changing feelings towards one brother to affect your commands in battle, then the team is lost. If you hesitate, if you endanger the group to save the one..."

Leonardo held up his hand.

Splinter nodded for him to speak.

And it was somehow easy. He smiled as he spoke. "You're asking if I could love Raphael and be an impartial leader. No. I can't." He kept going before Splinter could speak. "I can't be impartial now because I have never been impartial before. You taught me about leadership but there are lessons I've always failed. I have never managed to distance myself from my team."

It occurred to Leo as he spoke that this would be a first for him - a proud confession of a lesson not learned. "Would I risk Mike and Don to save Raph if he were in danger? I would. I have. I wouldn't hesitate to risk Raph and Mike because it was Don in trouble. My love for Raphael has changed - not grown, just changed. I love Mikey as much, and Don as much. They are my brothers. I would risk all of us for one of us, no matter who that one is. That's the way it's always been, and I'm confident that my failure to grasp the importance of detachment is a permanent flaw."

Splinter met his eyes. After only a beat his smile returned. "Then my concerns are addressed."

Leo held his breath. "Then..."

Splinter nodded. "You have my blessing. Be happy. Be confident that your father supports you." He glanced at the closed door, and gave a small sigh. "Bring our Raphael back to us, if you can."

Leo grinned, but only a moment later he noted the slump in Splinter's shoulders, and the less-than-hopeful end to what should have been happy words.

If you can.