Glimpse

It was getting late; late enough that most people in the perpetually busy compound had gone to bed. Even April had turned in. But Leo couldn't sleep. He'd gone to bed around midnight, but after two hours of tossing and turning, he was ready to give up. It had been thirty years since he and all his brothers had slept under the same roof, and the knowledge that they were there was like an electric current thrumming along his nerves.

Most of all, though, it was the knowledge that Don was there.

The sharp, painful loss had dulled over the years into a deep, lonely ache. Hearing Donatello's voice again after so long a time had shaken something loose inside his chest. Joy at his return had tangled with shame as Leo wondered what Don was thinking about his broken family. The one thing – the one thing Leo had counted as a blessing for all those years was that Donatello never had to see his father die and his brothers fall away from each other. But now Don was here, and he knew everything, and Leo wasn't sure what to think.

It had only taken a moment for Leo to recover from the initial shock at Don's reappearance, and then he had been nearly overwhelmed by the need to reach out and hold on to their long-lost brother for dear life just to prove to himself that he wasn't hallucinating – but Raphael had been there. Raph had thrown his arms around Donatello so tightly that Leo heard the leather of his jacket creaking in protest...and Leo had held himself back.

He'd stayed at O'Neil base for just a few hours, long enough for Don and April to work out the basics of the campaign against Foot headquarters, then decided it would be best if he headed out again. Don had murmured a surprised "Hey," when he saw Leo moving away and had followed him to the door.

"You're leaving?"

"I have to check in with my team," Leo said, straightening his coat across his shoulders. "I told them I'd be back within forty-eight hours." He ignored the guilt that needled at his heart. He was shading the truth a bit. He had told his team he'd check in, but he could send a message instead. But he couldn't bear to stay. He needed time to regain his footing after Don's reappearance had rocked the ground beneath him. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I'm taking that as a promise," Don said. His voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of tension that was impossible to miss.

"Don, don't worry. I'll be able to make it there and back in just a few days."

There was a slight pause before Don responded. "If you're sure you'll be all right."

"I've been all right this long, haven't I?" He gave Donatello a thin smile and walked out without another word, before Don could say anything that might convince him to stay.

Ever since Donatello had vanished all those years ago, the deepest longing of his heart was to have his brothers – all three of them – beside him once more. Now it had finally happened, but betrayal and anger had carved great, uncrossable chasms of hurt between them, and his brothers felt like strangers. That pain was even worse than the pain of separation.

So he left.

He didn't tell his team what Don and April planned to do. They couldn't risk the Foot finding out about it if any of them were captured. But he told them he'd be away indefinitely and turned leadership over to his second-in-command. He couldn't depend on the man the way he'd used to depend on Raphael all those years ago...but Perry was solid and smart and trustworthy, and if anyone could take over in Leo's absence, he could.

And then, true to his word, he returned to base a few days later. Despite the tension he'd felt in the atmosphere when he'd returned – the people of O'Neil base loved Michelangelo and looked up to him, and Leo sometimes suspected that some of them resented his absence – he made sure to check in with Don.

"Leo, you made it back!"

The sincere joy and relief in Don's voice was almost enough to make him smile, almost enough to convince him to stay for a while and try to talk. But he could sense Raphael's brooding presence in the room, heard the barely audible mutter of "'Bout time," and he knew he couldn't linger. He and Raphael had become two storm fronts, clashing violently whenever they drew near each other.

So he'd stayed where he was and waved casually from the doorway. "Yeah, I got back about fifteen minutes ago. Thought I'd let you know."

"Wait, Leo, you don't need to go," Don called after him, seeing him start to withdraw.

The veiled but still audible disappointment in Don's voice twisted Leo's gut like the blade of a tanto, but he forced a smile that he didn't feel. "It's fine, Don. I'm on my way to the mess hall anyway. You and April can fill me in on everything later." And he walked away again, even though Don's gaze on his retreating back felt like grappling hooks tearing at him, trying to pull him back in.

Leo sat up and sighed deeply, rubbing his face with his hands. It was utterly silent in his room, but his memory was providing ambient sounds from the past that he thought he'd forgotten. He imagined he could hear the deep rumble of Raph's snoring and the metallic clinking of Don working late on a project in his lab. Even in his perpetual darkness, he seemed to see the blue flicker of light from the bank of televisions – Mikey would have fallen asleep on the couch by now with the Nintendo controller in his hands – and the air in the musty room seemed to be touched with the faint scent of incense.

Leo growled under his breath and gave his head a vigorous shake. The ghosts of memories dissipated like smoke in the wind, but the bittersweet ache in his heart remained. He got to his feet and dressed, heading for the door. The feeling of homesickness was nearly suffocating him, and Raphael or no Raphael, he had to go find Don.

He walked more slowly than usual as he navigated the unfamiliar corridors, noting the change in the air pressure as he passed hallways or open doors. He didn't know where Don was staying, but sooner or later he'd meet up with someone who could point him in the right direction.

He'd only gone a short distance, though, before he heard the hot sparking sound of a welding torch. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he picked up his pace a bit, tilting his head to better follow the sound. He passed an open doorway and stopped as a flash of light caught his attention. It registered as the faintest flicker at the edge of his vision, but he knew it to be the intense flare of the torch.

He stopped and faced into the room, resting his shoulder against the doorjamb. "You're up late."

The sound of the torch sputtered into silence and the sparks faded away. "Look who's talking." Don was tired, but his voice was warm and welcoming. A beat or two passed before he said slowly, "You can come in. Raph's not here."

"I know," Leo answered. He hated hearing the hesitation in Don's voice, knowing that he was part of the reason it was there. He ignored the stab of regret and entered the room anyway. His hand touched the back of a chair at the table Don was using as a makeshift workbench. The chair scraped over the concrete floor as he pulled it out and sat down.

"You just missed him," Don went on. The flare and hiss of the welding torch started up again. "He fell asleep right in that chair around half an hour ago. I woke him and sent him to bed."

"He's been hovering, huh?"

"As much as a 50-something, surly turtle can hover," Don replied, amusement coloring his voice. He shifted position to stand directly between Leo and the welding torch, and then Leo could see his dim silhouette for the first time. The brilliant light from the torch created a corona around his shell.

Leo leaned back in the chair. "What are you working on?"

"It's uh – well, I guess it's an exosuit," came the reply. From what April tells me, the Shredder's got a pretty dangerous exosuit of his own. I think it's time for him to pick on someone his own size."

Leo's brow ridges lifted slightly. "Who's going to wear it?"

"I am," Don said firmly. "He's not going to get anywhere near the three of you if I can help it. He's done enough damage."

Leo frowned. Don's concern for him and his brothers warmed him, but he didn't like the idea of his newly-returned brother hurling himself headlong into danger. But the tone of Donatello's voice told him that any objection would be utterly squashed, so he offered none. Instead, he simply said, "Seems like it's pretty big."

"Uh...yeah. It'll be ten feet tall when it's done." Don paused for a second or two before venturing, "Can you...I mean, how did you know...?"

Leo's face softened. "It's okay if you ask me about my eyes, Don. I don't mind."

"You're sure?"

"Fire away. I never could keep much from you anyway." The wistful comment slipped out before Leo could catch it, and he bit down on the end of the sentence with chagrin.

If Don noticed his discomfort, he didn't let on. "How much can you see?"

"Well, the damage was to my corneas. My eyes still function, I just can't see out of them." Leo removed his dark glasses briefly to unveil the opaque gray surface of his eyes. "I can see light if it's bright enough, like sunlight. Or the light from that welding torch you've got there."

"How did it happen?"

Leo watched the sparks twisting in the air as Don started working again. "My squad was caught in a chemical explosion. Most of my team was killed, and the survivors had chemical burns to their eyes and lungs. I have some lung damage from breathing the aerosolized chemical, but not enough to really slow me down."

"I'm sorry."

Leo shrugged. "I've adapted."

"It doesn't surprise me," Don said. He switching off the welding torch, leaving Leo in darkness once more. "You were always the best at sparring blindfolded."

Leo heard Don set the torch down and pick up another set of tools. "Okay, your turn," he said. He inhaled slowly, heart thumping heavily as he prepared to ask the question that had haunted him for three decades. "Don...where have you been?"

"I think the more accurate question is 'where did I come from?' I've been talking with Raph these past few days, and...I don't think I was ever in this timeline," Don said gently. "Do you remember Renet? The girl with the Time Scepter?"

Leo frowned, brow furrowing deeply as he thought back. He didn't spend much time thinking about the past, but something like the Time Scepter wasn't easy to forget. "...Yes, vaguely. She had something to do with this?"

"Well, not directly. Remember how Draco ran off with the Time Scepter after our battle in medieval Europe?" And Don explained how Draco and the Daimyo's son had attacked them in the lair.

"That attack never happened here," Leo said slowly. He paused a moment, thinking, then asked, "What's the last date you remember?" His heart sank when Don told him, and he turned his gaze down at the tabletop he couldn't see, tracing a crack in the worn wooden surface with his forefinger. "You're right," he murmured. "You...you never were in this timeline. You disappeared a few months before then." A wave of disappointment crashed over him, and he had to swallow a few times before the tightness in his throat eased enough for him to say, "I guess you aren't our Don after all."

"That's not true," Don said earnestly. "I may be from an alternate timeline but I'm still your brother. Nothing can ever change that. And for all I know, this timeline is my home now. I don't know where – or when – my family is, and I don't have any way to get back. I don't even know..." Don faltered a bit, but kept going. "...I don't know if they survived the attack." He didn't speak for a moment; whether he was focusing on the exosuit or whether he was just waiting until his voice was steady again, Leo couldn't tell. "I survived, though," Don finally said, half to himself. "And even if I can't get back, I have to believe they're okay. I have to."

Don didn't realize how his words were cutting into Leonardo. The older turtle kept his face carefully impassive. He had felt that same determination before. For years after Donatello's disappearance, Leo had refused to accept the possibility that his brother was beyond his reach. Even when his family, one by one, had chosen to lay Donatello's memory to rest, Leonardo had refused. Don couldn't be dead. Leo had held on for decades, even as the war against the Shredder raged. But as friends and family had begun to die, the stubborn, secret hope had died with them. And ten years ago, Leonardo had finally given Donatello up for dead.

Even now, sitting here talking with him, Leo was finding it difficult to believe his brother was actually there. He'd seen his silhouette floating like a black vapor outlined by the glow from the welding torch, but now the light was gone and all he had was a disembodied voice ringing in his ears. It felt like talking to a ghost.

Leo's life before the Shredder's uprising had become gray and faded in his mind. With every passing day, it was becoming harder to shift through the bleak years of war to uncover the memories, mostly because he usually tried not to think about his family.

He had tried, at first; but as the years passed, the good memories started to become painful in contrast with the reality he was living. His childhood and teenage years were nearly beyond his reach now, and the rest was fading except for a few images that had been seared in his mind. He could see Michelangelo, ready to drop from exhaustion as he pushed himself in his training, learning to fight with just one arm. Leo had been told about Raphael's missing eye, but he had lost his sight before it had happened. The face Leo remembered was whole and untouched, but full of accusation and anger. He couldn't remember anymore what Raphael had looked like when he smiled. And Donny...

Leo's body went rigid as he reached for the memory of his brother and found only a dark, empty space. He could picture the deadly, graceful movements as Don wielded his bo in battle; could see him slumped in his chair after falling asleep at his desk, working late; could see the flutter of his bandana tails as he walked out of the lair the last time they had ever seen him – I'll be back in a few hours, guys! – but when the Don in his memory turned to wave goodbye, his features were blurred and indistinct.

"Leo?" Don's voice sliced through the dark tangle of his thoughts. He heard the footsteps as his brother approached the table. "Are you all right? You got a really strange look on your face just now."

"I – I couldn't..." He swallowed back the rest of his words before they could escape. It took every bit of his willpower to keep his hands from shaking. I couldn't see your face. I've forgotten you. His control slipped just a little, and he was surprised at how lost he sounded when he blurted out, "Where are you?"

"Right here." A solid hand descended on his shoulder, smelling of smoke and seared metal.

"Don, would it be all right if..." He broke off, unsure of what Don would think of his request.

But Don gave a soft little sigh, and Leo could hear the gentle smile in his voice as his brother echoed his own words. "Leo, whatever you want to ask me...it's okay. I don't mind."

"I..." His chest tightened and he couldn't get the words out. "Just...just stand still for a minute, okay?" Don didn't answer, but Leo sensed the subtle shift that told him that he had nodded.

Leo pulled off his gloves and set them on the table as he got to his feet. He took a tentative step forward and lifted his hands. He heard the subtle intake of breath as his brother realized what he was going to do – but Don didn't move as Leo's palms came to rest gently against the sides of his face.

Leo let his fingers rove gently across the achingly familiar features. Touch and memory blended together to paint his brother's face in vibrant colors in his mind. This Don was still young. His skin was smooth, not rough and textured with age and scars like his own. He could feel the little worry wrinkle between his brother's expressive eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned up. The small furrow would appear whenever Donatello was deep in thought, anxious, tired, in pain, or simply bemused by the antics of his brothers – usually Mikey. He rubbed the worry wrinkle with his thumb until Don's forehead smoothed out. A fond smile crossed Leo's face. "It's good to see you again, Donny," he said softly.

Leo felt Don's mouth relax into an answering smile – but the smile was unsteady, and as Leo's fingertips glided over the soft fabric of Don's mask and traced his eyelids, he felt the first warm droplet escape and land on his hand. He could feel Don's subtle tremor as the younger turtle fought for control.

Leo shook his head, cupping Don's face in his hands. "Donny, please don't," he said, even as his own voice started to shake.

Don abruptly reached up and struck Leo's hands away. Before Leo could decide how he should react, Don had launched himself forward, closing the gap between them. Leo let out an involuntary gasp as his brother's arms locked him in a crushing embrace, fists tangling in the black material of his coat. He stood stiffly for a moment, surprised into immobility...

...But then Donatello's shoulders started to shake, and Leo could feel his brother's tears hot against his skin.

"I'm going to fix this," Don said brokenly. "I swear it, Leo...after the Shredder's gone and this is all over, I'm going to fix this."

Leo didn't know if Don meant that he would fix his vision, fix the shattered world, or fix the rifts that had been torn between his brothers. But he knew that once Don decided he was going to do something, he always came through. Always. And in that moment, he believed. He believed in Donatello. He believed that they could win.

And the first flames of hope flickered to life in the cold ashes deep in his heart as he began to believe in the impossible – a second chance with his brothers.

He closed his eyes and returned the embrace, holding on to his little brother with all his strength as he whispered, "I know, Donny. If anybody can...it's you."