Leo can't sleep. That isn't particularly new to him - his role as leader gives him more than enough stress for restless nights - but this time, he's thinking about something different. Well, perhaps not that different; he's thinking about Karai. He's spent a lot of time contemplating her, really. Her sharp features, the hair he couldn't quite understand, the smirk on her ruby-coloured lips. Usually, she flitted through his thoughts in the day, when he saw Donnie fawning over April, or when they saw a unit of Foot on their nightly patrol. He doesn't quite want to admit to himself that he was sitting up in bed at almost 1am, cradling the sword she gave him as if it were a newborn child. He decides he'll tell his brothers he had a nightmare and accept a comforting hug from Mikey. That plan leaves him with a lot of hours alone in the dark with Karai's ghost, though.

He wishes he could go back and change things, do things differently. Tell Raph outright that they weren't crossing Karai this time, that they would get another opportunity to catch Shredder by surprise. They would have done, he's sure of it. He didn't need to go along with it, to support the plan, at the cost of Karai's trust. He longs desperately for her trust, or at least for the chance to talk to her again. To explain why they had done it and ask for forgiveness. To tell her how much she means to him - actually, no. That would just make things worse. But he's so frustrated. All he can think of is chasing after the Kraang ship on Raph's Stealth Bike, pushing it as fast as he can to catch her before she falls.

The air had ripped through his mask, over his skin, as he forced the poor bike past its limits. A twist in his gut as she screamed, fell. A stab of fear as he launched himself off a makeshift ramp into the air. Time slowing to a crawl as he drew closer. Sudden weight in his lap as somehow, he caught her. The sheer relief of realising they had both landed safely, by some miracle of good luck. He remembers the heat rising in his cheeks as he realised how close she was to him, and how little she had helped by just staring at him in awe.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

"Fine."

"I'm... not good at saying 'thank you'."

Even then, he hadn't quite believed it was happening. Now, he's even less sure that it did. Her voice had sounded so different, almost younger; kind of how it would have sounded if she was a normal girl, instead of the daughter of a ninja clan leader. Would he still have fallen for her if she was an ordinary girl? He thinks so. She would still have the charisma and confidence and wit that he admires her so much for, she just wouldn't know how to fight. Maybe that would be a blessing, he thinks sullenly.

"And?"

"That was it."

She was close enough for her breath to tickle his neck, but he didn't let it show. He had liked this side of Karai, the one that was almost adorable in her confusion and emotional constipation. He didn't want her to shrink back into her habitual teasing just yet, so he had stayed silent. It was the longest he had ever heard her be quiet for, though looking back, he realises that long bouts of silence must be crucial to her training. He wishes he could ask her about it, see how it was different to theirs. Maybe he will get to see that normal Karai again someday, if he earns some good fortune. Fighting the Kraang should get him enough karma for a chat to his crush, shouldn't it? He worries he's blown his only chance.

Maybe he should have said something while they waited, the Stealth Bike tucked carefully into an alleyway as the Kraang ship sped by, unaware. He should have used that moment of hesitation before he drove away again to say anything, try to get a conversation going. He should have asked her why she saved them. That was really bugging him, actually; Karai had gone out of her way, risked her own life and limb, to get that Kraang ship off their back. After they outright refused her help, too. Wow. They really had been jerks this time. No wonder she was so angry with them.

Hadn't she done the same, though? Not really, he thinks. Karai never made them any promises. The only reason her betrayal at the Worldwide Genome Project had hurt or surprised him was because he had put too much faith in her, despite everything she warned him about. If he had listened to Raph then - or even Karai herself - maybe his heart wouldn't be so tangled right now. Maybe he would be able to think of something other than the look of shock and fury on her face as she stared up at them, at him, at the missile launcher on Mikey's shoulder still aimed towards her father. That's certainly an expression he wishes he could forget about. It's a night he wishes he could forget about, in all honesty; he wishes he could rewind time to about twenty-four hours ago, so he could fix this mess. He can't, of course. Time travel isn't real. Mistakes don't just get fixed. If this is ever going to get better, he needs to work on it. Trouble is, the only way to fix it is talking to Karai, and he's not sure he'd be able to handle that even if she did let him.

One of his biggest fears as a leader is an irreparable screw-up, something going so horribly wrong that the pieces can never fit back together, things can never be made right again. He's worried this is it. He's worried this isn't it, that this is only the beginning of his colossal misjudgement's fall-out. Leo's worried. And he can't sleep.