"--listening at all?"

"I think he's asleep--"

"No, he's tired but he ain't--"

"--hand me that needle, Raph--"

Wincing in anticipation, Leonardo turned slightly and felt Michelangelo's arm tighten around him, pulling him a few inches closer. The needle came biting into his shoulder, and he pressed his face against his brother's neck as liquid fire poured into his blood and spread through his body. When Donatello withdrew the needle, the pain faded to a dull throb and Leonardo drew in a ragged breath.

"--was that?"

"Painkillers. Trust me, it'll make the rest of this a lot easier--"

"--can't just knock him out?"

"--better if he goes to sleep naturally--"

Were they whispering? Probably, but they sounded as if they were yelling back and forth across a wide room and there was no blocking them out. That his head was swimming was probably a mercy. Their words faded in and out of his head. At least they served to distract him a little from the pull of torn skin as someone gently straightened his lame leg.

Stitches came without warning. Or maybe they had warned him and he just didn't hear. They didn't hurt as much as an injection, but each pierce stung more intensely than Karai's sword or a screamer's bite that cut or stabbed and then tore away, quick and transient. Donatello's focus made each suture flare up and die down until the long gash drew shut. The soft touch of bandages covered it completely but drew tight so that he felt the long line deep within the muscle.

"--you sure about--?"

"--down here, can't risk infection--"

"--will the pain killers kick--?"

He couldn't focus. He understood less of what they said as their voices faded to whispers. Probably whatever Donatello had injected him full of or perhaps nothing more than simple exhaustion, but either way, his whole body felt heavier and his breaths came slower and deeper.

"--asleep yet?"

"--might be trying to stay awake--"

"--just out of it--"

Someone put their hand under his jaw and tilted his head back, exposing the old bite in his throat. The area around it didn't hurt as much as it had long since gone numb. This time there were no needles, only a patch of bandages and cotton and tape to hold it secure.

"--can't let him sleep like--"

"--already cleaned the cuts--"

"--but still--"

"--he'd hate it if--"

"--all of us could use one--"

Michelangelo said something else a moment later, but he didn't hear it. He heard the rush of running water somewhere nearby, and then the unmistakable sound of water filling a bucket. The constant noise slowly drowned out every other noise before fading itself, dying away until the entire world was dark and silent.

He didn't dream but he knew he was sleep. The nothingness was a comfort, a welcome break from the nightmares and anxiety of the last week. Stockman was dead, the creatures were dead, the ship lay on the ocean floor. He couldn't be sure but there was a chance, a real chance, that he wouldn't turn into a mindless killer again.

If they never trusted him again, he could live with their suspicion. If Splinter never forgave him, he could live with that. He could live with anything as long as he knew they'd live.

But he would face all that later. For now, he would relax in a nothingness that echoed the peace of a grave.

"Finally," Michelangelo whispered. "I thought he'd never fall asleep."

From his seat on the floor, Raphael looked up and watched his little brother ease Leonardo down onto the bed, using a damp cloth to wash the last remnants of blood from his side before he pulled the blanket over him. As if sensing the loss of his brother's touch, Leonardo moaned softly in his sleep and turned toward the sound of their voices.

"Stay with him, Mike," Raphael whispered. "He's prone to some pretty rough nightmares. Don't want him to rip those cuts open again in his sleep."

"I'm not going anywhere," Michelangelo reassured him, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. At once Leonardo stilled and relaxed again.

"That can't be healthy," Donatello said as he tossed a clean cloth in the tub of water he'd just filled. "Think he's like that every night, or just when he's hurt?"

"Just when he's hurt bad, although I wouldn't put it past him to hide it somehow when he's not," Raphael answered. "He gonna be okay?"

As he leaned over his brother and carefully washed away the blood, Donatello nodded. "The bites are the worst, and those'll heal up with a little time. He tore them a little wider with all the fighting, but that's nothing new."

Too edgy to sit still, Michelangelo busied himself by unwrapping a few more bandages for the smaller cuts Karai had left. The ripping paper sounded loud in the small room and he glanced at Leonardo, but his brother remained fast asleep. Even so, he opened each packet slowly and tried to muffle the noise between his hands.

"So," Michelangelo said, "what now?"

Raphael and Donatello both hesitated as they considered that simple question, and Michelangelo paused to look at them. All of them knew something had to be done, but none of them knew what. Raphael even glanced at Leonardo, his instinct to hear fearless leader's idea first too strong to ignore. Even if he often panned those ideas.

"I'm not sure," Raphael admitted. "But something's got to change. Stockman and his little monsters were bad enough, but really? Stockman's not the one that almost killed Leo."

"He's not going to change," Donatello said softly, cleaning off a streak of blood across his brother's throat. "Even if we somehow got Splinter to lay off the whole 'constant anticipation of attack' thing, Leo would still be paranoid."

"I know, I know." Raphael bent his knee and rested his head on his arm, tired enough to fall asleep on the floor. "But he was getting better before this crap started again. If he hadn't been so hellbent on protecting us from himself, he wouldn't of run off."

Michelangelo tilted his head. "But he did lose control and try to kill you." He flinched when Raphael glared at him but he didn't back down. "Wouldn't you have done the same?"

"No!" Energized by his anger, Raphael growled and got to his feet, looming over his little brother. "I might've run, yeah, but I wouldn't of tried to off myself. I would of--I would of locked myself up somewhere, gone killing those things, sure, but I would've been trying to stay alive."

"And if you couldn't come home again?" Donatello asked, not looking at him as he applied the first of several small bandages to his brother's arms and sides. "If you thought that you couldn't stop that static from turning you into something evil every now and then?"

Raphael shrugged. "Dunno. Stay away from home, head up to the farm maybe. I'd know you guys would come up with something eventually."

"You don't know that for certain," Donatello said. "You might've been stranded up there forever away from everyone."

"You could'a visited, called, hell, emailed," Raphael snapped. "It wouldn't of been a death sentence."

"Not for you," Donatello said. "But Leo...remember what he said about leaving home?"

Although Leonardo hadn't spoken about that for several months, the memory of his first attempt to leave flashed in Raphael's mind. He nodded once and glanced at his sleeping brother. "Anyplace that ain't home, it's all the same. The same as being dead, anyway. But that wasn't the only reason, Don."

Donatello finished taping the last bandage in place, then sat back with a sigh. His whole body ached and most of his legs and arms were covered in drying, itchy blood. The water in the tub looked the color of rust, so he took it to the sink and dumped it down the drain, rinsing the tub out and filling it again. Taking a shower could wait, but he had to at least clean off the worst of it.

"I know," he said, slowly wiping the blood from his hands. "Splinter didn't make this any easier. Neither did we. But the person who made this hardest on Leo was Leo himself."

"So...okay." Michelangelo shifted on the edge of the bed to face them better. "Leo's his own worst enemy. We know that. It's not like we can tell him to stop. And no matter how hard we try, I don't think we can watch him forever, either."

Snagging a washcloth from the pile of clean linens Donatello kept stocked, Raphael plunged it into the same tub, splashing water on the counter as he washed the worst of the night's work off his skin.

"I don't think we'll have to," Raphael said, speaking slowly as the plan slowly took shape in his thoughts. "Yeah, he's grounded for awhile. We're gonna keep a close eye on him just in case he thinks this ain't over and tries something stupid, but I don't think he's gonna try to off himself now. As long as he knows there's no way he'd hurt us, he'll stay put."

"We gonna take turns watching him again?" Michelangelo asked.

"Yeah. But listen," he said, looking both of them in the eye. "Just 'cause I don't think he'll do anything doesn't mean you should trust him yet. He won't lie, but he's gotten real good at twisting the truth around 'till it ain't the truth anymore."

They both nodded.

"Okay. Okay, um..." Raphael breathed out and stared at the door. "Listen. I'm gonna go talk to Splinter. I can't solve everything in one conversation, but he's got to know he can't expect Leo to keep living like this."

"That's just it, though," Donatello said. "He hasn't been living like that. You took over for him--"

"It's--complicated," Raphael said. "Yeah, I took over a lot of what he did, but he still...he kept watch over us, he tried to kill any threats before we got close. In a way, I think it was harder for him. He wanted to keep us safe but he didn't have the authority like before."

"Then what do we do?" Michelangelo asked, his voice tinged with panic. "He can't stop being paranoid, he's drowning when he's responsible for us, he's drowning even worse if he's not."

Raphael held up a hand to cut him off. "We take it slow. Keep him here under watch. Give him time to heal. I'll talk with Splinter, tell him we can't accept Leo being a nervous wreck all the time. That he's gotta stop expecting perfection all the damn time."

"So Leo still has 'Splinter issues'?" Donatello asked, remembering Leonardo's outburst at their master over the phone.

Raphael nodded. The whole relationship between Leonardo and Splinter was complicated and not entirely healthy, and he didn't like the idea of trying to change it when both of them were not likely to change. But maybe he wouldn't have to. Leonardo's outburst was the first time he'd really stood up against Splinter. Maybe Leo might move away from Splinter's idea of what he should be on his own.

He exhaled and rubbed his eyes. All he wanted to see was his comfortable hammock, but he knew he had to deal with Splinter first. He stretched and tried to ignore his creeping exhaustion.

"I'm gonna go talk with Splinter, get it over with," Raphael said. "One of you stay with Leo, the other one can take a shower, get some sleep."

"Uh, Raph?" Michelangelo said.

"Yeah?"

"What about that big dead thing in front of the door? We just gonna leave it there?"

Raphael groaned. "Oh yeah, forgot about it. Fine, the one who don't stay with Leo can keep cutting it apart. Once I'm done with Splinter, I'll come help. If we're lucky, we'll get rid of it before the night's over."

"You mean before lunchtime," Donatello said, motioning at the clock. "It's morning now."

They all stared at the little numbers of the counter-top digital display. After a moment it ticked off another minute. Seven thirty-three. They'd been gone for several hours.

"Weird," Mike mumbled, "didn't seem that long."

"Mike," Donatello said, "how 'bout you take a shower and come back here with Leo. Then I can get to work on the dead thing."

"You sure?" Mike asked, but his words stretched into an unintelligible yawn. Smiling sheepishly, he laughed at himself and stood up. "Sure. Good idea."

Donatello watched him leave. As soon as Michelangelo was too far to hear them, he turned back to Raphael, placing a hand on Leo's shoulder when he heard his brother mumble in his sleep.

"You said not to trust Leo," Donatello started. "What about Splinter? You think he'll yell at Leo again? That's the last thing big brother needs."

"I don't know," Raphael said. "If I get that vibe offa Splinter, I'll come tell you. Just another reason not to leave Leo alone."

Not knowing what else to say, he took one more look at Leonardo to reassure himself that he was still there, then walked out and across the lair towards Splinter's room. Steeling himself for an argument, he took a deep breath and knocked on his master's door.

tbc...