Hey, you out there. It's me.
What? You don't know me? - well, I can't really blame you. *sighs* I'm gonna be famous one day, but up to then, I'll stick with the simple-minded fanfics of a 17-year-old girl that secretly fears she might be too old for TMNT. And loves them anyway.
This is a little plot-bunny that just came to my mind and needed to be written down... It's kinda dark, I guess. But all's well that ends well, right? R&R!

Consider what you think justice requires, and decide accordingly. But never give your reasons; for your judgment will probably be right, but your reasons will certainly be wrong.
[Lord Mansfield]

'Cause It Would Break Them

My skin is like a map of where my heart has been
And I cant hide the marks - it's not a negative thing
So I let down my guard
Drop my defences down by my clothes
I'm learning to fall
With no safety net to cushion the blow
[I bruise easily - Natasha Bedingfield]

He doesn't really remember how it came to be the way it is.
He knows that he had been very young back then, when the decision was made. That something important happened. But he doesn't remember what, or why it turned out like this. Every time he tries to remember, or meditate about the issue, a feeling overcomes his mind that some things are better not to be discussed.

He listens to Raphael's complains about it, silently bears the nicknames they call him, and the looks they shoot him from time to time. He deals with being the annoyance. Because inside of him, and not even deep inside, he knows that it is all half-heartedly. That they really just complain to complain, not because they mean it. They know even less than he does about why all this is, but it is, and they are all happy this way.

Hamato Leonardo is the leader, and he takes responsibility, no matter the costs. As long as they are safe.

Good decisions come from experience, and experience comes from bad decisions.
[Unknown]

Hamato Splinter looks down the balcony into the main area of the Lair. From up here, he can see the TV screens on the wall. Three of them are turned on; two show the news, like they always do, and the third is running a cartoon show about Silver Sentry's adventures. Of course, it is Michelangelo watching. The old master's whiskers quiver in silent amusement. He's such a kid sometimes.

Raphael sits on the sofa next to his brother. The red-banded fighter is drinking what Splinter hopes is soda and he reads a book, but his father is certain that the real purpose of him being where he is is to watch TV without his youngest brother noticing. He is careful about his image, but he, too, is a teenager.

He can't see the lab from where he stands, but Sensei can hear the soft cling of metal and the sound of electricity and he knows that Donatello is down there, inventing something. The lab door is opened. There are no closed doors in this home if it's not absolutely necessary. Splinter has no doubts that whatever happens down there is important and better not disturbed, but Donatello is always prepared for emergencies of any kind.

Through the other opened door, Splinter can just catch a glimpse of the blue stone floor of the do-jo. When he concentrates, he can hear the slicing whistle of swords cutting through air in a slow and steady pattern. Leonardo is training. For a second, Sensei's gaze clings to the paper door with something close to longing. Then he shakes his head and slowly walks downstairs to get some tea.

He remembers just too well what happened that faithful day.

Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.
[Michel de Montaigne]

"Dad?"

A small voice called up to him. Splinter just managed to move his expression into a smile before he turned and looked at one of his sons. Donatello. He had always been growing the fastest, even though Raphael was stronger and Michelangelo was more agile than him. It was Leonardo that the rat master had been thinking about just now. He was quiet and thoughtful, but the others were about to leave him behind.

"Dad, Raphie took Micky's toy car and then Lee-Lee stepped in and demanded it back and the wheel broke off and I fixed it", the olive-green toddler beamed up to him. The smile on Splinter's face grew wider when he knelt down next to his son and laid a hand on his shoulder. Dark brown eyes looked into his onyx ones, full of expectation. "You did very well, my son", Splinter said and chuckled.

"Yay!" Donatello jumped up into the air, happy to have pleased his father, and left without another word, but with a spring in his step. His father looked after him and slightly shook his head. "Kids", he muttered and went after what he considered to be his eldest son, to make sure everything was okay. His former thoughts came back to him when he saw the four children in a circle on the floor. Peaceful once again, they pushed the newly-fixed toy car back and forth. The closed-off tunnel area they lived in was small and wet, but it didn't seem to matter at all to them.

Donatello as the eldest, then Raphael, Michelangelo, and Leonardo, he thought. If I were to decide now, this would be what I think. But they are only just three.

"I wonder if Donatello would make a good leader", he muttered aloud. It was just a whisper, and the children didn't even hear it - even though for a second, Splinter thought that Leonardo's onyx eyes had been flickering over to where he sat. But the game went on uninterrupted, and the rat didn't think about it anymore.

We do not remember days; we remember moments.
[Cesare Pavese]

"Father."

A voice called out to Splinter and reached him through the spheres of his meditation. With a deep breath, the rat came out of his trance and opened his eyes. Leonardo. He didn't have to see his sons anymore to know their presence. Seven years of living together do that to a person.

"Yes, my son?" He tried not to sound annoyed about being disturbed like that. Leonardo still looked at his feet. "I am sorry to interrupt you, sensei."

Always polite and honest, Splinter thought. But when did he stop to call me dad and start to call me Sensei? He didn't remember, but his heart softened at the sight of his nervous son, and so did his expression. "You did not, my son. Go on."

Leonardo looked up then, and his dark eyes met his father's. "Sensei, it is time for the extra lesson I asked you about."

With a glance on the old clock he had found at the junk yard, Splinter sighed and stood up. Leonardo was right. He had promised his son an extra training session, and he had been in meditation for far longer than intended. "Of course. Where was I with my thoughts? Come, follow me to the do-jo."

They had only recently moved into another part of the New York City sewer system. The old place had been crumbling and dripping for far too long. This area was similar, but bigger, and the turtles finally had a room for themselves and Splinter a second one. There even was a small wall dividing the bigger part of the tunnel area from a smaller one. Which Splinter had called the do-jo. The training room. They were training martial arts for almost four years now, and they were good. Even though Leonardo was still somewhat behind- or so Splinter had thought.

He has been training secretly. The thought became obvious truth after only a few strikes of the kata. He is getting much better and faster now. Some of the moves of the first kata were already fluent from the habit of using them. The second kata, too.

After half an hour of silent training (Leonardo) and corrections (Splinter), Sensei made his son stop. In an instant, those big dark eyes were focussed on him with what seemed almost like fear. "Did I do something wrong, father?" the toddler asked. His voice quivered.

Splinter had to fight hard not to just lean down and hug this small creature looking up to him. "No, no, my son. You did good. I think it is time to show you some new stances."

The dark eyes lit up, and they spent the next hour with intense training. Leonardo seemed to never get tired to learn. He tried again and again, and Splinter had to literally force him to call it a day in the end.

He is getting good, the rat master thought when his son finally walked over to the small bathroom to wash the dirt off. But his brothers are still better. Donatello is really level-headed and a contra-pole to his brothers Raphael and Michelangelo. He will make a good leader one day. Even though he started to get interested into those scrap metal parts more than his training lately. And Michelangelo is still acting childish.. While Raphael seems to have endless energy that needs to be restrained before something happens. They will have to grow up soon.

The leaves of memory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark.
[Henry Wadsworth Longfellow]

It was six in the morning, and everyone in the small 'abandoned' sewer tunnel was fast asleep. Or supposed to be.

When Hamato Splinter rose silently from his straw mat on the floor and left his room, a soft whistling sound caught his attention. It sounded like something flying through the air. And now that he concentrated on it, he could also make out footsteps. But soft breathing from his sons' room told him that they were all sleeping. He had been dropping some hints lately about leadership and responsibility, but so far none of the nine-year-olds seemed to get the idea.

Fear crept into his body, and his fur stood on edge. His thoughts about getting something for breakfast vanished. Silently, like a deadly feline on the hunt, he moved towards the sound. It came from the do-jo.

Slpinter snarled without a sound when the noise got louder. In one fluid motion, he jumped around the corner of the small wall between him and the next room and then jumped whoever was there.

With a startled little yelp, someone threw himself aside and panted. "Father! Father, it's me!" a fearful voice cried out.

Instantly, Splinter backed away and turned on the light.

Leonardo sat in front of him, his eyes wide opened. When the light went on, he shielded his face with his small hand, but his eyes never left his father's. He was still panting, but being able to see calmed him down and he scrambled to his feet before he gave his father a small bow. "Sensei", he started, "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, or anything.. I just didn't want to wake anyone, so I didn't turn on the light, and we are not allowed to use candles without you, and I really wanted to train, and... " he sobbed, but got himself under control quickly. "So please don't be angry", he finished in a very small voice.

Splinter hugged him.

He was surprised about his son being up this early, and training too. But more surprised he was about the fact that his son, his considerably youngest son, had been able to dodge his Sensei's attack in the dark room, even though he had been caught on surprise. Splinter felt his son's muscles ripple under this soft green skin when he somewhat awkwardly hugged his father back. Startled, he realized how much Leonardo had grown recently.

Now that he was thinking about it, it had always been Leonardo to help his brothers out. Donatello was so caught up in his inventions and ideas that Splinter didn't understand.. all the time testing and trying and tinkering. Leonardo had been out late more than once to call his brother back in. Raphael, on the other hand, had too much energy. He wanted to be out there all the time, exploring and fighting canal rats. This concerned his father, but restrains made it worse. So Leonardo went out with him. They had only recently had a close encounter with a mythical sewer alligator, even though Splinter wasn't sure what to make out of this story. And Michelangelo.. Mikey. He had his own little world, or so it seemed, where the dark and wet and cruel world around him didn't matter at all. But he always listened to his older brother.

But one of them has to take the responsibility, Splinter thought. They can't be kids forever. And then - huh, when did Leonardo become the older brother?

And then, at five in the morning, in a dimly-lit do-jo down in the sewers, Splinter suddenly knew why. He knew why Leonardo had been pushing himself like that ever since the day Splinter had thought about the clan leader five years ago. Why this small, thoughtful boy had been training all the time and finally, in the end, become better than his more talented brothers. Just by working. By growing up... So that the others wouldn't have to.

"Oh, Leonardo", he whispered. His son tensed in his embrace, but didn't let go. "Are you sure you want to go all the way to the end?"

And Leonardo whispered back, "I have to, Sensei. 'Cause, doing what I did from now on... It would break them. I am prepared, father."

"Well done, Leonardo."
"Teacher's pet!" - "Splinter Junior!"
"You are the leader, so watch us while we go out and after Master Splinter!"
"Don't let me stop you, 'Fearless'."
"Why is it always him to get into those situations?"
"Get you hands off my brother!"
"I was training. Training to be a better leader. For you! Why do you hate me for that?"
"I'm done taking orders from you."
"Raphael, come back here, NOW!"

- "I don't hate you, Leo. I missed you."

The hot tea fills the cracked yellow tea cup and sends steam up to the ceiling. Splinter looks into the misty cloud and an absent smile moves his mouth. Many days have gone by since that day... Many days full of adventures and problems and angst and sadness, but also of happiness and laughter and joy. Donatello's inventions keep the new Lair safe and secure. Raphael has his friend Casey to 'bust some heads' with. Michelangelo can watch TV and draw and write- oh yes, Splinter knows about his son's secret ambitions. And all that is possible because they have been well-led. Ever since that day...

"Yo, Leo. C'me over here 'n watch some TV wit' us, will ya?"
"Hah, Raphie-boy, I KNEW you were watching too!"
"Shuddup, knuckle-head. Fearless, C'mon."
"All right, Raph. What are you reading? And what's for dinner?"

The day Hamato Leonardo had been chosen the Leader.