Chapter 1

Callused finger tips ran across the rough surface of the brick as he walked down the dirty alleyway. Here no one would come to see him, here- no one would see him, here- right here he could just be alone the only whispers his own thoughts. To be honest he hated thinking, he disliked it to the point it was a passionate loathe. He had to be perfect in everything, cover his emotions with a mask, tell everyone that it was just fine for him to take their blame- to jump into the fray and cover their mistakes. He had to pull his weight and the weight for four bodies. There was the weight of his father as he was groomed to take his place one day. There were his three brothers who had their fun.

Leonardo slowed in his already slow pace, blinking as sluggishly as his feet moved. What was it like to have fun? He had always wondered. He had always mimicked reactions, always saw Mikey's laughing face and what he expressed to be "fun", then he would compare it to Donatello and Raphael, if anything over laid then... it had to be "fun" right? Was fun just like relaxing? Raphael always told him to relax, asked him why he didn't just sit down and relax, etc, etc. It was simple, he didn't know what "relax" meant. Sure the dictionary said one thing, but he could never achieve it. He didn't have the option to. Not even meditation was relaxing. It was work, work to keep his mind focused, his katas were worked to keep his body sharp, reading was to keep whit thus why all of his books revolved around war tactics. He tried reading a comic before, he didn't understand it. Listening to music was taken as training, to section out each and every instrument, hear each sound as its own. It helped on the battle field when he could block out many sounds and focus on one plea of a brother.

Tawny eyes turned up to the sky that began to weep. He let his eyelids slide shut as he felt the chill of the droplets shatter against his skin, the sound of his leathery hide making the only sound he really enjoyed in life. Leonardo liked the rain, he didn't need to hide in the rain. People left the streets in favor for shelter allowing him the freedom of being alone. Alone. He liked being alone. He didn't have to be a leader when he was by himself, he didn't have to keep a constant eye out or only get two hours of sleep as he listened for sounds identifying them as turtle, rat, or cat. Anything out of the ordinary and he was sliding against the walls at the ready. After Karai had destroyed their home, forced them to find a new dwelling and nearly took his family from him... well... he wasn't exactly the same. For a while he slipped up, became forceful because he had adapted to the situation of all of them nearly dying. It resulted in him being sent to Japan to be student to someone he had no interest in. While training he realized he needed to switch back, he was taken from his brothers due to trying a different approach to life. Life... god he hated life.

He put his head in his palm, leaning against the wall as he came to a stop. This was why he hated thinking. When he was by himself his thoughts were everywhere, his emotions mingling in with them -hissing at him like a stray cat. It would dig its claws into his fleshy thoughts and bite and scratch. He hated feeling emotions, they were useless to him in his position as leader. They got in the way, they made him make mistakes. The last time he let his emotions get in the way he threw Raphael over the edge of a building fighting over a stupid sword that held no meaning besides the value of some folk tale of being folded seven hundred times during forge. A stupid sword, a stupid decision, a stupid emotion nearly cost him a brother. He wouldn't risk it again.

Something stopped the rain from falling over head, the sound of the water on his skin muted in favor for the bounce of heaven sent drops on taunt plastic. Blinking he looked up and over his shoulder soft eyes staring back at him. He didn't know this person, not a person with hazel eyes, not with... a dead gaze behind a smiling mask.

"Your costume is soaked through," the voice was low and sweet all the same. "You'll catch your death out here sweetie."

All he could do was blink as the umbrella was held out over him, dark hair getting wet as the woman ignored the fact that the paper bag she was holding was getting drenched. She waited, that fake smile well practiced, painted upon lips as those eyes begged and pleaded the same thing his own did every single time he saw his brothers; please stop the pain.

"You allergic to dairy or chicken?"

"W-what?" That was a random question.

She moved a step closer, pushing the handle of the umbrella into his hand, he noted that she made an effort to not brush her skin against his. Once he was holding it she dug out of the now wet bag -with her now free hand- and produced a can of cream of chicken soup. She pushed it into his other hand, "Try it with just a little salt and pepper, brings out the flavors. Looks like you need it." She sighed a little, "God you're a skinny thing."

"Hey!"

She simply moved past him, "It's true. You should eat more."

A frown formed on his lips as he stood there holding a can of soup in one hand and an umbrella in the other. He wasn't skinny.

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Leo sighed and let his spoon clatter down into the bowl, warm soup splashing up as he propped an elbow up onto the kitchen table, chin resting in hand. So the soup was a nice thing to do... but he wasn't skinny. Even if he was skinny what would soup do? It wasn't like there was a lot of fat in something made out of a little cream and chicken breast. If she wanted him to get plumper couldn't she have given him like a loaf of bread or something with butter? Besides she was kind of over weight, at least a good twenty pounds over April, it wasn't like she had any right about telling anyone about their weight. And for another thing he wasn't skinny, he was lean.

This was ridiculous; since when was he self-conscious? Never, because it didn't fit into his life. That was it, no more of this.

Michelangelo padded into the kitchen heading for the fridge, "Dude, you should finish that you know."

"I'm not skinny!"

Orange stopped, stick of sucker pointed up as he looked at his usually calm brother with a some what surprised look. He didn't bother to move when said sibling got up from the table stormed half way out of the kitchen, turned around, went back to grab bowl and spoon, and then headed off to hide out in his room. Michelangelo frowned a little scratching at his head. He didn't think Leo was self-conscious. He shrugged; oh well, chalk it up to a being the new thing that he learned for the day.

Leo went up to his room, a scowl firmly on his face when he shut the door that was decided among all family members to have on their individual rooms. He plopped down on his mattress and rather violently shoved a spoonful of warm liquid into his mouth. It swirled around his tongue as he took in all the different flavors before swallowing, repeating the action as he bore a hole at the innocent wall across the way as if it was at fault; as if the wall had known he would be up top and sent that… that woman to find him.

He tossed the empty bowl to the side where there was a pile of blankets, he didn't care that a few milky white drops splattered against the fabric -he needed to do laundry anyway. A growl emanated in the back of his throat. Why was this bothering him? Meditation. That would help him focus once more. Drawing in a deep breath he folded his legs and relaxed his arms, closing his eyes he released all thought. The feel of cool air, wafts of warmth from the heaters that were set around the lair coming in to wash against his body. He was able to clear his mind, keeping all thought from coming back. No thought, none at all. No thoughts of angst, no thoughts of how he was forbidden from having emotions, no thought about training, none about his family, nor friends. Everything nice and clear.

"God you're a skinny thing."

Leo calmly twisted around and swiftly gave his pillow his hardest punch.

To Be Continued…