EPILOGUE

I was honestly surprised when that whisper of breath stirred the night air. The treads were sporadic but confidently placed, silent, light, and the last thing I expected to hear tonight. Straining my ears in the quiet, I stole further under the cover of darkness and watied. I was all too familiar with phantoms that trick the mind and endanger the body. But no, there they were. You can't erase twenty-some-odd years of those footsteps storming past your door or flanking you in combat.

I wish you could. Would've made walking away so much easier.

Raph's footsteps slowed and stilled as he approached the marker. I knew I hadn't ever told him the location of the grave. Mikey must have at some point. The snow crunched under his weight, and the stone made a slight scratching sound as he rubbed his hand across it. He murmured a few words and barked out a raspy cough. The corner of my mouth twitched a little. He probably needed to lay off the cigarettes. Not that I'd be able to say anything.

I could hear him stumbling around as he rose, and just before I would have stepped a bit closer, I got a strong whiff of the alcohol on him. Wonderful. I was fairly certain that even as angry (and probably drunk) as he was, he would not attack me unarmed if only to honor the discipline Splinter instilled. About ninety-six percent certain he wouldn't. But once he had enough juice in his system, it became a free-for-all.

The nervous trembles in tandem with my rapid heartbeat shook loose some debris. It trinkled its way down into the alley from my perch. Instantly his head shot up, a harsh breath was expelled in surprise, and the tsuka of his blade strained under the grip he had on it.

I swore and jumped down from the ledge before he jumped up. I should have turned tail and ran. It wasn't like anything new or calm was about to go down. I kept my hands out in front of my body, in his line of sight at all time. His breaths were sharp and fast, and I knew he was close to snapping. I sighed to myself. By flight or by fight, the first near-civil contact I'd had with Raph in just under a decade would end.

"Why are you here?"

I bit back the first few answers that would have gotten me a sai down my throat. "He was my friend, too."

"You know I know you heard me comin'. Why didn'tcha scram? Here to fin'ly finish it?" His challenge was more than a little slurred, and talking him...well, trying to talk him down had about as much a chance as working as asking politely asking Shredder to release New York. None whatsoever.

"I'm not here to fight, Raph. I...I wanted to talk to you."

"You're about sixteen years too late for talking." Metal scraped against the worn leather jacket as he brandished the weapon.

"I am not armed."

"I ain't got no problem tossin' my sai and takin' you in a brawl."

I rolled my eyes. "I refuse to fight. Give me five minutes, and I'll give you another sixteen years, okay?"

How something that wouldn't have made sense when he was sober placated him when he wasn't was beyond me, but I took it as a good sign that he seemed curious enough to listen. I gently tapped the wall and listened to the reverberations to get a fix on the major structures as well as my brother. The echoes bounced back quickly. He was no more than ten feet away from me.

"We…we need to learn how to be allies again. You've seen what the world's become. Our issues are not the top priority; survival is. We need to be able to depend on each other again."

His jacket rustled a bit, and I imagined him cocking his head slowly to the right, leaning his weight on to one leg or the other as he considered my words.

"Why would I ever want to depend on the one who took away my father?"

I rubbed my head in frustration, barely noticing the familiar network of scars that were slightly raised. The blame had birthed a bitter hatred between us; I wasn't blind enough to ignore that. I'd spent too many years already casting it on myself, sometimes Mikey, sometimes him. I'd shouted and swore at the sky and the ground and everything in between, and finally, finally had mourned and made my peace. This world and whatever shambles of a family I had left were my lot and needed more attention than my deceased father.

And what got me was that Raphael knew it. He knew he would have to move on at some point. With or, more than likely, without us, he would have to stop running from the pain and face it. But until he collapsed mentally, he was going to pin it on the most convenient target. Sober, drunk, asleep, or awake. Heck, he'd probably go to his grave like that.

And I was more than happy to let him.

A/N: I know, evil little cliffhanger-ending. But I think that at some point, Leo had to stop trying, probably after having so many scenes like this repeat themselves. Believable? In character? Too sappy?

In other news, I got a job! Yay! Unfortunately, updates will not be as frequent as they have been. Boo! And bleh. It's one in the morning. Good night!

Companion to Purblind.