Raphael slowly makes his way across the dark lair, only the soft glow of the television providing any sort of guidance. Michelangelo is curled up on the couch, one leg kicked over the back, while the other rests sprawled out on the floor. The orange cladded turtle grunts, mumbles nonsensically as he shifts, kicking away the blanket that was already hanging off of his foot. The red cladded turtle stoops down and picks up the blanket, gently readjusting it over his little brother's body. Then he takes both of his wildly disproportionately arranged legs and arranges them on the couch.

Michelangelo's baby blue eyes blink open for a second, murmuring sleepily, "...L-L...L-Leo...?"

Raphael feels his jaw tense up at that as he grots out lowly, "Go back to sleep, Mike. You were dreamin'."

"I-It felt s...so r-real..." The orange classes turtle's eyelashes swoop down and his mouth stretches open in a wide arc as a yawn escapes him, " I...I...f-felt...h. h-him... C-c-called...m' n-n...name..."

"Me too," The red cladded turtle admits softly before his mouth snaps shut. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he stands, shaking his head as he begins to tiptoe away towards the dojo.

The shrine Master Splinter had built of Leonardo had become a permanent staple in the dojo, a small corner of the room that was never disturbed by their rambunctiousness. Even the hyperactive Michelangelo treated the secluded area as Switzerland in the war zone the lair had become. Raphael kneeled on both knees as he takes a match from the small ceramic pot and begins lighting the candles surrounding the wooden structure that housed old, crumpled pictures, dried flowers, and other trinkets. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply with the flicker of the candles on his face.

"Why'd you do it, Leo," Raphael asks softly, keeping his eyes closed. It felt like he asked the same question on a constant loop every time he went to pay respects to his deceased brother, despite already knowing the answer all too well.

'It was necessary.'

"It was necessary."

Raphael's fist went flying against Leonardo's jaw, but the other mutant's head didn't even turn in the slightest. The red cladded turtle roared in pain, clutching at his fist like a toddler that had just gotten his hand smacked by his mother. The blue cladded turtle's face was full of pity as he stood up from his spot on the rooftop, and went to stand beside his brother. Glancing down, the younger turtle noticed the drying blood splintered on his older brother's knuckles.

"If you'd like, you can hit me, again. This time I'd pretend the blow affected me," Leonardo offers, rubbing at his already reddening cheek.

Raphael huffs in annoyance, still clutching at his fist as he slouches back onto the edge of the roof. He didn't answer his older brother, he just stares off into the distance, his jaw going tense as he runs the latter's words in his head, over and over. It's all too much. The look that his brother gives him - pity, pity that he hadn't known. Those bright blue eyes, probing into his soul, desperately wanting to see what's going on in there.

"Don't look at me like that," Raphael says that last," Just... don't."

Leonardo nods in acknowledgment, casts his gaze towards the floor. "I am sorry," He says, his grave voice filled with pity," I know you never wanted to see that, but...it was necessary."

"Necessary? Leo," Raphael exclaims, jaw hanging open stupidly," Those Purple Dragons...t-they were just kids - Damn kids who didn't know any better! We don't go after them -"

"Kids who robbed a defenseless old woman, left her paralyzed in the dark," Leonardo snaps abruptly, eyes narrowing dangerously," You think I like it? You think that I like having to do the necessary things, the things that keep your consciences clean, while mine goes in the gutter? Answer me, Raphael!"

The red cladded turtle's eyes go wide as he stares at his older brother, shocked. "Leo, I..." He gulps heavily, watches as the guilt slowly seeps into the latter's stony expression, "Look, I just...I know you do stuff like this to keep us, to keep everyone safe, but what about you?"

The bewildered expression on the blue cladded turtle's is almost comical as he blinks rapidly at his younger brother like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. "What, " He inquires, confused, "Raph, I'm not sure I'm getting what you're trying to -"

"Oh, for fuc - Leo, do you ever once take a step back and think about how the situation affects you? Not just us, but yourself," Raphael questions seriously.

"No," Leonardo answers plainly, mouth settling into a thin line," It's a nice sentiment, especially coming from you, but I just...I just, well, if I can be perfectly candid...I don't have time."

The red cladded turtle's forehead creased and his emerald green eyes scrutinized the latter. "What the shell is that supposed to mean," He utters at last," Leo, if you're implying - Look, I know you've got his weight on you, I weight I can never understand, and I hope that I never have to...But c'mon, Leo, you're my big brother, my leader...my friend...you've gotta think of yourself."

The blue cladded turtle's eyes darted up towards his brother and the corners of his mouth quirked you into a pitying smile. "Don't start going soft on me. You'll ruin the whole dynamic we've got going," He sniffs, going on after a beat," I don't want any of you to ever, ever have to understand me. Why I do what I do, I mean. Your life will always come before mine. If I even take a moment to think about myself..."

Gulping, Raphael grits out," And if something happens to you because you decided to play Fearless Leader? If you..." He flinches, hands clenching on his knee caps as he grits out," If...if you die? What then?"

Leonardo's gaze stayed heavenward as he states, voice strained as if he were admitting a sordid secret," Mission accomplished."

———

Leonardo wakes up faster than a cat in ice-water, every sense urging him to claw his way to standing.
He wasn't even on his very unsteady feet for more than a second or two, when his vision grew fuzzy and like a puppet cut of its strings toppled over onto the ground again. Apparently, his time spent in his grave was no short amount of time. His eyes weakly skimmed over his visible limbs, and he distantly realizes that while he looked as strong as ever, his body was likely none too pleased about being, well, putting it bluntly...dead.

"H-h-h....help...please," Leonardo gasps out, rolling onto his back,"...Help..."

Leonardo tries to swallow, but his mouth is too dry, his tongue swollen. Screaming for help is futile, he discovers. Not only does his voice not carry, vocal cords just as dry as the rest of his mouth, but there's simply no one to hear him. Slamming his balled fist into the ground beside him in frustration, he props himself up on his elbows and slowly with shaking arms brings himself to his feet again. This time he quickly stumbles towards the tree right beside his unearthed grave, ducking his head as a brief burst of nausea hits him like a fist to his stomach. His hand slaps over his mouth as he dry heaves, tears prickling from the corners of his eyes.

Leonardo blinks, his eyelashes fluttering over his lids as he brings his head upwards towards the darkening sky. He stood watching the line where heaven touched the earth. His wide blue eyes witnessed the resounding glowing collision. With the setting sun came a sky of fire, the crackling oranges, and reds of a hearth. The blue cladded turtle's eyes are steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before the coming darkness of night beckons the stars. His lips bear the semblance of a smile. He felt small as he quickly glanced over his shoulder and saw his shadow slowly shrinking towards his feet. He looked back to the line, only a few bright streaks remained to signal the sun's setting.

"Gettin' dark," The mutant turtle murmurs to himself," If I'm gonna do this...gotta do it now..."

Leonardo was sure if that anyone could see him now, he'd likely be put down on the spot, for not only had he just clawed his way out of his grave but now he was hobbling towards the farmhouse like a zombie. Wheezing breaths, flailing limbs, grunts and groans, the whole nine yards. He can hear his youngest brother's nonsensical screams about the comic books he'd read about zombies in his head, and he can't help the smile that twitches to his lips. What would normally take a few footfalls during a light jog and a few seconds, had taken at least five minutes? By the time he's curled his fingers around the wooden railing of the house's steps and pulls himself upward towards the doorway, he's wheezing and sweating as hell if he'd just run a marathon. His fist curls around the knob, and he exhales in relief when he finds that the door isn't locked.

Leonardo takes several minutes to hobble around the farmhouse, having to practically drag himself up the rickety old steps, before he is completely satisfied that it was in fact empty. Judging by the layer of dust and the made-up beds upstairs, he assumed that no one had stayed in the house for several weeks at least. For the time being, he was completely and totally alone. He locked all of the doors and windows, drawing the curtains and cautiously flicks on the lights. He makes another trek up the treacherous stairs, cursing under his breath the entire trip. He practically trips into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Leonardo wrenched the shower knob around until a steady spray of water erupted from the showerhead. He didn't even dip in a single-digit to test the temperature before he stepped in entirely and allowed the frigid water to flood over his aching, filthy body. Leaning his head against the tiled wall, the blue cladded turtle stared emptily at the floor, watching the dirt and blades of crumpled grass run down the drain. But then a rivulet of red joined the swirling filth down below, and it abruptly hit him that he was still wearing his claret encrusted bandana, wrappings and paddings.

Wincing, Leonardo gently untucked the end of his wrappings, wincing when dried, crusty sections caught to his skin and he had to tear them off. Bundling them up, he tossed them out onto the floor. The blue cladded turtle began to undo the straps of his padded gear, tossing them into the pile, before trailing his fingers down the dry, rubbed raw skin beneath the padding. He hisses in pain as his finger curiously prods at a larger section of blisters on his kneecap, and he pulls his hand away. With more trouble than he cared to admit, he slowly undid the ties that held his mask to his face, letting it flutter to the floor below.

Leonardo struggles to get a steady grip on the knob, but curling his fingers around it tightly he wrenches off the steady stream of water, feeling it stutter to a halt against his shell. But he keeps his head leaning against the tile wall, his breaths ragged and painfully slow, and it's only then that he realizes that he's shivering uncontrollably. The blue cladded turtle clenched his eyes shut, feeling his teeth chatter uncontrollably as he slowly lifts up his head. With unsteady legs, and both hands gripping the shower curtain, he stepped out of the shower and looked in the mirror.

Leonardo stumbles forward, his hands catching the edge of the sink as he blearily blinked and looked closer. His green skin was an unnaturally pale hue and his features were gaunt with dark shadows dancing across his sharp bones and under his eyes. His blue eyes had a deadness, a stillness. At that moment he knew he was already far away. The blue cladded turtle glared at the mirror, taking in the dusty surface that was covered in greasy fingerprints and there was a lipstick smear. Before he can fully comprehend his intentions, or better yet, think them out, his fist is flying forward with a cry into the mirror. The glass splinters beneath his fist, blood seeping onto the cracks as he pulls away from his bleeding fist. A few pieces of glass fall from the mirror, clinking into the sink.

Panting, Leonardo traces his finger down the cracked glass, staring hard at his new skewed reflection. "This...this can't be real..." He gulps heavily, "I-I died...I'm dead. I'm dead... I'm dead!"

———

Leonardo wandered around the house, ignoring his weakened body's adamant protesting in the form of varying forms of pain and frequent dizzy spells. The turtle simply couldn't find it within himself to lay back down, much less go to sleep, terrified that if he closed his eyes for more than a few mere seconds, he'd be back in that coffin under a mound of dirt. He had gone through all of the closets in the house, before finding some of his brothers' newly stored gear, and had tied black wrappings around his arms and legs. Before this, he'd found a first aid kit beneath the kitchen sink and had smartly cleaned all of his wounds, before covering the bandages with the wrappings. And his newly adorned blue mask had simply been found by accident when he had stumbled and fallen beside the bed while exploring his old room.

Now, Leonardo was leaning against the kitchen counter, chewing slowly and thoughtfully a mouthful of canned peaches. The can is in his grip, settled down on the counter, for he honestly doubted of his strength to hold it in the air. He stabbed his fork into the can, catching three juicy slices, before shoving the forkful of fruit into his mouth. As he swallowed, he had to repress a moan. The mutant turtle had already gone through three cans of tuna fish, a can of split-pea soup, and he was on his second canned fruit. He tilted the empty can back, gulping down the sweet, sticky juices left behind as he licks at his lips. He was reaching for a third can of fruit, pears this time when he thought better of it and began to make unsteady steps into the living room.

Leonardo's eyes flicked longingly to the house phone resting on the side table beside the couch. He takes small steps forward, his fingers reaching for the phone before he quickly pulls them away. He tries to rationalize to himself just why he couldn't just call the lair and tell them of his current predicament. And he buffs, annoyed with himself as he thinks of just what'd he would say if he did work up the nerve to call them. 'Hey, guys! It's me, Leonardo - Yes, the one who should be rotting in a wooden box right now. This is awkward, but I crawled my way out of my grave and now I'm just hanging out, kind of bored. Yeah, you know how it is. Listen, can anyone lend a hand?'

Scoffing to himself Leonardo slumps into the pile of comforters and pillows he'd arranged in front of the roaring fire. One by one he reaches into the pile of discarded padding and wrappings, tossing them into the crackling fire and watching them burn. The fireplace mimics the warmth of the day. The blue cladded turtle sits curled into a ball in front of the flame, his thin features illuminated by the flickering light, the only one in the room. Though the air isn't smokey he can smell the pine as it burns, just a faint fragrance, but hidden behind it is the bitter musk of the burning leather and cloth.

Leonardo laid his head down on one of the pillows, every inch of him from fighting the overwhelming exhaustion that washed over him, but this fight was one he could afford to lose. He feels the blackness come over him like a weighted blanket, but not a blanket of warmth but a blanket of coldness making him shiver. But somehow it's making his eyes feel heavier and heavier. He finally allows his eyes to close, feeling as if a heavyweight had been lifted off of his body, finally sending himself into a dreamless sleep.

Leonardo couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour or two when he's awoken by the sound of a loud, grinding car engine outside. Car lights flood in through the old curtains, and the ninja hisses to himself as he quickly limps over to the kitchen doorway, concealing himself behind the counter. The very same second he's safely hidden, the door is locked in by a gargantuan foot belonging to a certain rhinoceros mutant. There's a loud, huffing noise coming from the doorway that can only come from a warthog's large snout.

Leonardo turns his head upwards, groaning to himself in a whisper," You're not gonna give me a break, are you?"

"-Ain't no one else here, dawg. Except them...ghosts," Bebop whispers with a noticeable tremor on his voice," Some squatters were probably just stayin' da night, and bolted when they heard us pull up in that loud-ass hunk of metal."

"It is a good mode of transportation. Just bad gas mileage," Rocksteady objects," Master tells us to find turtle body and bring it back to fly-man, yes? Then we must hurry in doing so."

"Yo, Rocky, this is just plain sick, dawg. I ain't the biggest fan of the turtles, but this is gonna give us some bad mojo, " The warthog mutant squeals, kicking aside a pile of blankets.

The rhinoceros mutant growls throatily, and inquires," You mean we shall be sick when we see gross, mutilated turtle body -"

"Nah, sick as in sick, yo."

Rocksteady chuckles deeply," What do you mean, comrade? We commit much heinous crime."

Bebop growls, and there's an audible slap as he replies," But we ain't ever, ever committed a crime that would get us straight-up haunted, yo!"

"Haunted...? By wee ghost turtle," The rhinoceros mutant hisses," Ridiculous, comrade. The Bebop and the Rocksteady are no scared of silly ghost."

Leonardo smirks at that, slowly edging closer towards the doorway, before cupping his hands around his mouth. Lowering his already gravelly voice as low it will go, he snarls deeply," Where are my katanas," His voice booms across the living room," They were here and now they're gone - Where are they?"

Bebop squeals as he jumps into Rocksteady's arms, intertwining his arms around the latter's thick neck. "I told ya! I told ya," He cries, thumping the mutant rhinoceros on the side of his head," We've done you and pissed the spirits off now, dawg! He's fixin' to mess us up!"

"Ba," Rocksteady huffs, not convinced, before throwing the mutant in his arms back onto the ground with a reverberating thud," Rocksteady is no scared of tiny turtle with no body. Is only pathetic spirit now."

"Don't tell him that, ya ignoramus," The mutant warthog objects, waving his arms frantically," Don't pay no mind to my thick-skulled friend here, brother. I ain't ever done a thing to hurt ya - Er, not lately."

Rocksteady opens his largemouth to argue, when the Leonardo snatches up a handful of knives from the open dishwasher and throws them without even looking, or aiming. Both Rocksteady and Bebop scream in surprise, before jumping behind the couch for cover as the knives plunge into the wall where they'd been standing mere moments before. Slowly, the mutant rhinoceros raises a pair of massive white underwear and begins to wave it around. The mutant warthog grabs his cohort's hand and yanks it back down, frantically whispering something to him.

"We surrender," Rocksteady declares, waving the underwear again.

"Son, since when do ya wear tighty-whities," Bebop exclaims in surprise.

The mutant rhinoceros responds unashamedly," They is only undergarment that fit under large leathery rump. Also nicely accommodate tail."

The mutant warthog groans in disgust," Too many details, dawg. Way too many," There's a beat of silence, then he says," Look, uh, mutant-ghost-turtle-thing, we, uh, are just gonna skedaddle-skidoodle...Let ya haunt some other sucker, capisce?"

"Da, do we quiche?"

"Ya damn fool. It's capisce," Bebop snaps.

Rocksteady counters with a grunt," Is pretty sure is quiche."

Leonardo rolls his eyes in annoyance as the two goons continue arguing, and he grabs the cast iron skillet hanging above the oven. He twirls it in his grip, steadily creeping across the dark living room as the two mutants obnoxiously loud arguing drowned out what little noise he made. Crouching down, he inches his fingers towards one of the knives that had clattered to the floor, and he carefully brings it to his side, raising the skillet like a shield in front of himself. Suddenly both the mutant warthog and the mutant rhinoceros go stock still and their voices cut off as their eyes lay on the mutant turtle standing before him. The two mutants look at each other's ship their heads back to the blue cladded turtle, before turning back to one another and screaming in unison.

"Bad timing, scum - Real bad," Leonardo snarls.

"That's one damn solid lookin' ghost," Bebop squeaks pathetically, wrapping his trembling arms around the latter mutant," Ya ain't gonna...gonna give some bad mojo, are ya - Shit, what's this one's name, yo?"

Rocksteady gulps noisily, raising a shaking, meaty finger to state," I believe is Picasso."

"No? Uh, maybe...Frieda Kahlo," The mutant warthog volunteers with a nervous giggle, before quickly extending two of his stubby fingers together to make a makeshift cross," It ain't workin'!"

"I believe the Frieda is lady with the large eyebrow. Da?"

The way Leonardo's eyes squinted when he glared at Bebop and Rocksteady, reminded the two hapless mutants of a viper's slit-like pupils. Bebop gulped nervously. A burning animosity was developing in those blue orbs, and the mutant warthog could tell he and his friend were likely the root causes of the problem. Wordlessly, the mutant turtle twirls the skillet in his grip, before slamming it across the side of the mutant warthog's face with a resounding crack of bone. Blood spews from the warthog's fumbling lips and splatters across the hardwood floor, then he crumbles down like paper onto the ground as yellow canaries practically twitter around his head. But the mutant turtle doesn't stop there, before bringing the skillet over his head and bringing it down again and again and again.

"Eh, look, wee ghost-turtle-comrade," Rocksteady pleads to hold up his two very large mutant hands in defense," We no mean to disturb you, we just be on our way now, quiche?"

Leonardo's stony facial expression doesn't twitch as he slowly lowers himself down beside the unconscious Bebop, and none too gently tugs off the cloaking device attached to his belt. "A gift...for all of my troubles," He comments dryly, before plucking the pair of jangling keys from the other mutant's pockets," Capisce?"

"Quich-Capisce! Capisce," The mutant rhinoceros agrees with a toothy, forced smile. His eyes flicker over to his unconscious friend, lying eerily still in a pool of his one blood.

"He's not dead," Leonardo states throatily," But believe me...I was tempted. I've never been so close to taking one's life. But I won't let my anger turn me into one of you. Not now, not ever."

Leonardo turns his back, about to walk away, when he hears Rocksteady let out a long sigh of relief. Abruptly, he spins around on one heel and smashes the skillet over the top of the mutant rhinoceros' thick skull, feeling the painful reverberations shoot up his arm as the latter falls forward with a groan. The barely conscious body crashing to the ground makes the entire house's foundations tremble as dust rains down from above. Spinning the knife expertly, he stabs it into the side of the mutant rhinoceros' side, twisting it there with clenched teeth.

"Don't worry. I didn't hit anything important," The blue cladded turtle tells the other mutant coldly, lifting his shoulders and dropping them," But I exactly have you two goons following me, now, can I?"

Leonardo wrenches the knife out with a small spurt of blood, ignoring the pained moan that rose from the other mutant's throat, and tosses it across the room. He shoves the newly acquired cloaking device into his utility belt. Panting heavily with exhaustion, he begins to make his way towards the van parked a few feet away from the steps. The keys jingled softly in his grip as he unlocked the vehicle and took a heavy seat inside. He shoves the key into the ignition, twisting it with more force than necessary, and the engine roars to life as the lights flash on. He backs out of the driveway and swerves onto the dirt road leading away from the farmhouse.

———

Donatello sighs, flipping through his scrawl of hurriedly written notes. He miserably turns his gaze to the mutant rat in his newly crafted wheelchair and his eerily empty brown eyes that stare at nothing with his jaw slightly slack. April is standing beside him, her arm resting on the back of the wheelchair as she anxiously waits for the mutant turtle to report his findings to her. The mutant turtle abruptly slams his clipboard onto the metal table, leaning on his arms as he growls to himself in frustration.

Standing back upward, Donatello angrily yells," I just don't understand it! Aside from his legs, he's physically fine," His voice lowering, he utters," He shouldn't be declining this rapidly. At this rate, he'll be gone in a matter of days, if that."

"It isn't just his injuries from his fight against the Super Shredder," April whispers, keeping her eyes closed as she lifts her hand to rest on the side of Master Splinter's still face," It's...It's Leonardo."

The purple cladded turtle drops the glass beaker that was cupped between his hands, not even flinching as it shatters on the floor. "Leo," The mutant turtle wonders aloud, stooping to pick up the large prices of glass," No, you don't think - April, please..."

"That's all that I see when I look into his mind," The human girl tells him sadly," His body isn't failing, his mind is, Donnie. He's just...just lost the will to live. You, none of us, can help anymore."

Donatello wonders aloud, voice heavy with guilt, "H...How am I supposed to tell them, April? After..." He gulps heavily, flinching as he goes on, "...After Leonardo, I don't think...I don't think..."

"I know, " April responds, cutting him off, seeing how painful it is for the latter to voice his concerns," It's okay. It's going to be okay. We'll get through it, together, just like we always do."

"But we aren't together, " Donatello suddenly exclaims, his eyes swelling with his inner turmoil, "Leonardo, our leader, my big brother, he's gone, April! He was the one that kept us from falling apart...The duct tape and safety pins that held this disaster of a family together. We were barely able to keep together after...after... And now, Master Splinter is..."

April whispers softly, extending a hand towards her friend,"Donnie."

"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I have no right, none whatsoever, to take anything out on you," The purple cladded turtle chokes out,"Y-You're a good friend...too good to us...to me."

The human girl gives him a watery smile, responding warmly,"You guys have always been more than friends to me - You've been a second family to me," She sniffs,"And don't worry, I miss him, too. Sometimes I forget he's gone, you know? I'll wander into his room, wondering where he is, until it hits me...and I just...j-j-ju-just..."

Brows knitting together in concern, Donatello gently shakes April's shoulder as he questions,"April? April? April!"

April clutches at her head, groaning aloud,"I-I'm getting a vision...it's..."

Like falling down a rabbit hole, the vision first throws here into complete darkness, before flashing various images - Rain comes in waves, splattering across the pavement and Leonardo stands alone. The blue cladded turtle has his head tilted upwards and his arms are limp at his sides as the droplets trickled down his eerily still face. Lightning came, a brilliant shock of white in the graphite sky, forking silently to the unsuspecting pavement - And the dark, vaporous outline of Oruku Saki, the Shredder, stood perfectly in line with Leonardo as if he were his shadow.

"Leo," April whispers, hand falling away from her head in shock.