"Donnie, you know how much this means to Sensei!"

"Leo, I'm trying as hard as I can."

"Well, try harder!"

"…try harder?! I ALWAYS have to find the solution! You're leader, Leo. YOU find the answer!"

There was so much rage in those usually calm and collected brown eyes.

Sure, words had been exchanged – but it's Donatello's eyes that stick out in my memory. There are sounds, too, like the large bang of a clipboard hitting concrete, splitting it in two from the sheer force of the blow (force that I didn't even know he had)…and yelling. Lots of yelling.

And then he left. Just walked out, when the rest of us needed him most – when SPLINTER needed him most. And now I'm here, in some dark, small room with no windows and no doors. Just bricks. Bricks everywhere… Good thing I'm not claustrophobic.

Do I blame Don? The easy answer is yes, but the leader in me probably knows better. I shouldn't place the total blame on him. After all, I'm the leader, and I also happened to be the one he was arguing with when he left. Still, it was his choice to leave to go see "April" (who we didn't find out until too late wasn't really April at all). He should have been smarter. He should have cared about his family more. He should have stayed to help. He should have tried harder.

…but then, I can't help but get the image of tied-up-but-not-real Donatello out of my head. Or how cool, empty, and downright creepy Karai's voice modulator had made his twisted voice sound. The memory makes my blood run cold, so instead, I try to cling to the last time I saw him and heard his real voice; but, when I do, I'm left with a sickening pit in my stomach – something that feels a little too much like guilt – as that phrase crosses my mind: "the last time." Surely that wasn't the last conversation I had with him… Well, it's okay, because I'll be able to fix it when we get out of here. And we will get out of here. We always do.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts as a voice comes over the intercom:

"Hello, Leonardo."

"Karai! Please talk to me! Karai!"

"She's not gonna talk to you."

"Raph! Y-you can hear me?"

"Sounds like you're above me."

A scream.

"Donnie!"

"Leo! I can hear you through the vents. I-I'm in some kind of trap!"

"Dudes, I'm on my back. I dunno where anyone is!"

"We gotta help each other; work together!"

The blades are whirring above my head, a little too close for comfort.

From beside me somewhere – or below me, I guess? – I hear my normally strong little brother ask in too weak of a voice, "Leo… What do we do?"

The helplessness of his tone sends a chill down my spine, and I try to push down my panic as I call out, "We need some serious sciency stuff, Donnie!"

It's muffled, quiet, and quick, but I hear Don spout back, "Can't think. I gotta focus. If I make another mistake, I'm gonna get zapped again!"

Earlier frustrations rise in my chest as I dodge a few swipes. "Focus, Don! Didn't you hear me? We need help!"

There's a muffled cry of pain that makes me cringe. Then a voice again, with a tone and choice of words that sounds a little too familiar. "Leo, I'm trying as hard as I can – "

My response is immediate, and – ultimately – thoughtless. "Try harder!"

I'm not sure if the short cry of pain I hear is real, or if I just imagined it. What I know is real is the furious, deep-seeded, blood-curdling scream (that I somehow know has been building up from a time even before we were captured) I hear emit from my younger brother's mouth.

First, my heart stops. Then, I realize that I have to figure this out on my own.

"I'm finished, guys… I'm baked turtle."

"Ah! It's impossible, dudes! I don't even have a way out!"

Another scream. Then silence.

Too much silence.

The blades are coming down fast, and it seems like the closer it gets, the faster they move.

It's been quiet for way too long, except for Mikey's panicked screams. "Raph? Raphael, are you okay?" …no answer. Oh, God. "Don? Donnie! Can you hear me?!" Nothing. Shell. Shell, shell, shell, shell, shell. It's too late. It's probably already too late. They're both gone.

Get it together, Leo - breathe. Think. You're the leader, after all. There has to be a way. There's ALWAYS a way. This can't be your last night (day?). What would Donnie do? More importantly, where the shell is Donnie when you need him?

For a brief second, that stupid fight I had with him the last time I saw him pops back into my brain. The last time. No. No, that can't be the last thing he heard me say. "Try harder!" Shell, I'm so stupid. How could I have said that to him twice? How many nights had he spent with no sleep? How much pressure had he carried on his shoulders since pretty much day one? How much weight did I add on when I knew he could crumble at any second?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

I've gotta fix this. I've gotta fix this.

What would Donnie do?

What would Donnie do?

If there was a lightbulb above my head, it'd light up right about now, because I suddenly have an idea. Raph said that I sounded like I was somewhere above him. If we can all hear each other through concrete walls, we have to be pretty close, right? What if I used this thing to drill myself through the ground and into Raphael's cell?

It's a long shot, but I figure it's better than getting sliced into a million turtle pieces.

I grab onto the bottom, position myself shell down, and then brace for impact.

Almost immediately, the bricks give from under my weight.

"Ugh… RAPH! Are you okay…?"

Stillness. And then… A thumbs up.

"…what the - ?"

"GUYS! Help me!"

"MIKEY!"

Slash, slash.

"AH!"

…silence, and then a sigh of relief.

"We've gotta get to Donnie!"

I shove my sword through the ceiling, and as soon as the bricks fall, it's obvious that Don hasn't been as quiet as I thought.

His whimpers reach my ears and make me move faster. When I'm actually able to see Don's physical state, I leave Mikey to take care of Raphael (who's getting better by the second) as I spring through the floor to get to my last brother. Before I even realize it, I'm kneeling in front of him, hands ghosting over his skin.

He's burned. He's burned in a lot of places – second degree, it looks like. God, the rest of us were left pretty much unscathed. Why'd it have to be him?

I'm the one who deserved it.

"Don? Donnie – hey, can you hear me?" I whisper as soothingly as possible, though my hands are trembling as my three fingers grab his face and tilt it upwards toward the light. His eyes are covered, but my fingers meet wet skin, so I know he's been crying. He flinches at the contact, but then I feel him relax slightly. "L-Leo?"

"It's me," I choke out, finding it much harder than usual to stay in fearless leader mode. I tilt his face a little more, letting one thumb rub his cheek affectionately. I hear Raph and Mikey settling in behind me, but I pay them no attention. "What do I do, Donnie? How do I get you out of here? Can I cut the –"

"No!" He suddenly sounds much stronger than before, but it doesn't last long. "This thing is t-totally wired. If you try to free me, you'll fry me."

The undertone of what he says is clear: "Just leave me here."

I muster up as much courage as I can, a thought crossing my mind – some kind of instinctive urge that I can't really explain. "It's okay, bro, I'm gonna figure this out." In other words, "Not a chance."

Bracing myself for pain, I reluctantly reach for the metal helmet and grab it. The electricity shoots through my body, painful and hot. I bite my cheek so hard I think I taste blood, but it's worth it when I'm able to lift the helmet off Donnie's dome shaped head and toss it to the side. His eyes jerk around like he's lost, but when his frightened gaze meets mine, my heart breaks. I'm just about to reach out to comfort him when a suddenly better Raphael rushes past me and to Don's side. "Donnie! What did they do to you, man?" Mikey's on his other side soon after, and I'm left to take up the mantle of leader again. It's okay, though – I can tell from the way Don sheepishly keeps his eyes on me that we'll have time to talk later.

As soon as we get home, Master Splinter and I take Donatello to get settled in his room. Raphael goes to grab a cold shower – no doubt to shake off the last of the heat from that room. Mikey offers to get Don some medicine for his burns, so he's shuffling around in the kitchen, while also managing to annoy Raphael somehow, from the sounds of Raph's shouting. It's obvious Master Splinter's upset from his silence. Usually he jumps in pretty quickly to break up our fights.

The quiet is almost suffocating as we lower Donatello into bed. It kills me when Father's like this. I hate seeing his heart so broken and not being able to do anything to fix it. I meant what I told him earlier, though. I won't give up on Karai, and I won't give up hope…even if it means I have to hold out enough hope for the both of us.

I still want to talk to Don, but Master Splinter's sitting on the edge of the bed, whispering some kind of comfort to my brilliant younger brother, and for tonight, I think it's best to give them privacy. Besides, I'm exhausted, and I'm sure Donnie needs his sleep too. As I'm walking to my room, I pass Mikey as he's heading to Don with medicine. I stop him to make sure he's okay, and he assures me he's "right as rain." Then I go to knock on the bathroom door to check on Raph, and he opens it just enough for us to have a brief and similar conversation. Satisfied that everything's actually all right (or at least as all right as they can be), I drag my feet up the stairs and promptly collapse onto my mattress. I don't have time to process or dwell on anything that happened today before I'm out cold, but the memories plague my dreams.

Tentatively, I rap my knuckles against his door three times.

I hear Donnie's quiet voice tell me the door's open, so I turn the knob and walk inside. His room's kind of dark, despite the time of day. The lamp on his bedside table is turned on and he's wearing his reading glasses, with a huge book in his lap that has a title I can't even understand. As soon as he sees me, though, he smiles lightly, closes the book, and slips off the glasses, putting both items to the side. "Oh – hey, Leo. What's up?" It's a casual question. His tone's breezy enough to ease my nerves a bit, but I still find it hard to meet his gaze as I step in a little further and ask with no preamble, "Think we can talk for a minute?"

He swallows and nods, probably realizing right then what's going on. "Yeah, sure." He's trying to keep the mood light, but I can tell he's as nervous as I am. As I close the door, he scoots over a little to give me room to sit if I want to. I take his silent offer, perching on the edge of the bed and eyeing his burns. Part of me wants to ask how they're healing, but I know that if I don't get this over with, I'll let myself get distracted with small talk and chicken out. (Not that I ever chicken out on anything, but… Well, that isn't really the point.)

"Donnie, I'm sorry," I rush out in a whisper. From the way he tenses up, though, I think he heard me. My legs are hanging off the bed, each hand holding onto the mattress on its respective side. I tighten my hold on his blankets, keeping my gaze on the ground between my feet, and force myself to continue. I'm not usually the one who has to give out apologies. It's harder than I thought it'd be. No wonder Raphael's always so awkward about them.

"I've been giving you a really hard time, and putting a lot of pressure on you. That's not what a good leader does, and I know you've been giving it your all. So I… I'm just, I'm really sorry. For what I said."

Smooth.

It takes him a second to respond. "No, it's okay. I mean, yeah, you were a little harsh yesterday, but Leo, there's a lot of pressure on you, too. You're the leader. I can't imagine the weight that's put on your shoulders every single day." I can't help but look at him when he says that. He's wringing his hands in his lap, like he's felt guilty for the exact same thing I'm apologizing for now, and more than once at that. I want to ease whatever he's feeling, so I reach over and place a hand on the part of his wrist that's uninured. Almost immediately, his hand covers my own, and we just sit there for a second in peaceful silence. I'm hesitant to break it, but finally, I say, "How about we both agree to just give each other less of a hard time?" He smirks and nods, but doesn't get a chance to say anything before I continue. "Besides, I don't like fighting with you. That's mine and Raph's thing."

He chuckles at that and lifts his hand from mine to rub at his eyes. I can't tell if it's from emotion or exhaustion, but I don't ask. I just grin back at him and give his wrist a squeeze before standing. "So… Are we good?"

He gives one fainter chuckle and nods, before looking up at me again with a genuine smile. "Yeah. We're good." I bob my head in a satisfied nod, hands on my hips in a totally manly fashion, before turning to walk out of the room. "Good." But while I'm on the way out, I remember something that hits me square in the chest as hard as a brick, and I stop. I don't want to damper the mood again, but I think it has to be said. "And Donnie…?"

He's already put his reading glasses back on and has his book in his lap, but he looks at me again with a curious look. "Yeah, Leo?"

I tap my fingers nervously against the door frame I hold in my hand before turning toward him one more time, the expression on my face probably more than a little somber. "Let's also agree to not leave the lair after a fight like that… You never know when you won't get to…you know."

He stares at me blankly for a long moment, like my meaning is taking a while to set in. When it does, though, I can see it in his eyes, and he almost seems horrified at what could have happened. I feel bad for making him think that way, but I also think it's necessary, especially with our line of –

Woah, why is he standing?

"Don? Don, what are you doing? You need to stay in bed, you need your rest –"

I've moved toward him out of instinct, not sure if he's even strong enough to stand, even though I guess he SHOULD be fine. It's just the big brother in me. But when I get to him, he reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me in unexpectedly for a hug. His arms are wrapped around my shoulders, and I just kind of stand there for a second. He winces as my skin touches his burns, but after a second, he relaxes, so I lift my arms around his middle (where I know there are no burns, because I was the one to check him over). He buries his face into my neck then, the way all little brothers do, and I tighten my grip a good bit. I can tell the possibility I planted in his mind scared him, and if I'm being honest, the thought scares me too. But all we can do is be grateful that this time wasn't the last time, and that we had the chance to come home and fix it. I have a feeling after yesterday, neither of us will be leaving the house angry.

After all, you never know when it'll actually be the last time.