Comprende?

There were days when Leo forgot he was back home.

It wasn't an easy thing, going back to the cramped sewers after he'd gotten accustomed to the sprawling, tangled wilds of South America. Leo remembered when he first arrived in the jungle; he was impossibly reminded of his youngest brother, humming some song by Guns 'N Roses, and he had to suppress the urge to hum along. Then, the sudden onset of agoraphobia made him dizzy, and he found a cave to hide in until he got used to the openness of the trees and the vines and the beautiful canopy. But he'd grown up in the sewers. He wouldn't get claustrophobic from returning to his childhood home. No, it was the language that had him confused.

Spanish was a beautiful language, and it had transformed Leo's voice when it was all he spoke. He'd loved the flow, the structure, the rolling 'r's that flipped off of his tongue like tiny acrobats, or ninjas. He still dreamed in Spanish. On the good days, he was speaking with his brothers, and they were somehow just as fluent as he.

In his mind, Michelangelo's voice changed the least. Spanish merely expressed his bubbly, playful nature, trilling his 'r's and letting him speak faster than most people would know how to deal with. He bounced, he grinned, he yelled at his video game console, all in proud 'yo soy's and excited 'gano's.

Donatello's voice somehow became smoother. His voice already had a hefty dose of 'inteligente', but Spanish added a hint of 'nobleza' and quiet 'pacencia', turning his occasionally somewhat disjointed genius ramblings into more coherent, flowing explanations that the rest of the brothers could actually follow.

Raphael's voice, on the other hand, somehow changed completely in his dreams. Spanish took the edge off of his words without taking away the 'machismo' inherent to his very nature. The slang rolled easily off of his hotheaded brother's tongue; he was just as impertinent in one language as he was in another, but in Spanish it seemed almost 'cariñoso', and that was so far removed from the English that it made him nearly unrecognizable.

Sometimes, when Leo was very tired, he thought that those traits would carry over into the waking world, if he spoke Spanish with his brothers. It was mostly subconscious, but the thought still seriously impacted his waking actions.

The first time was with Mikey. Leo had trained through the night and was getting coffee so he wouldn't collapse in the middle of morning training. Mikey grinned and held out a mug, and Leo smiled and took it.

"Gracias," he murmured, beginning to pour from the coffeepot.

"Dinero!" Mikey chirped, and Leo tried not to wince.

The next was with Donnie. Leo had wandered into the lab late one night, intending to send his genius brother to bed for the first time in a few days. Some new invention had taken up every extra space in Don's great big brain, pushing him straight into mad scientist mode; when he was like this, even Master Splinter had some difficulty getting—and then keeping—his attention.

"Ve a la cama, genio," Leo said gently. "Su experimento estará allí por la mañana." 'Go to bed, genius. Your experiment will be there in the morning.' He hadn't even realized he was speaking Spanish until Donnie looked up at him like he had declared his lifelong wish to become a pearl diver.

"What's that, Leo?" he asked with a slight slur.

"N-nothing," Leo stuttered. "Get to bed before you drool all over your keyboard again."

Donnie had murmured something incomprehensible that Leo had decided to interpret as agreement. He half-dragged the drowsy turtle back to his bedroom, tucked a blanket up under his chin and snuck to his own room to meditate before bed.

And then, it had happened with Raph. Leo didn't get sick very often or very easily, but when he did, it was always very, very bad. His temperature had gotten so high that Donnie worried about seizures and brain damage. At some point, Leo had become completely delirious, thinking he was back in Japan, searching for the Ancient One. He'd rambled on and on in a strange, slurred version of Japanese, asking to be directed to the nearest ice cream stand. Mikey and Don had chuckled at his odd sleep-talk until the fever spiked, sending Leo down into dark dreams of death and destruction. For hours, Leo never screamed, but quietly, his voice raspy with overuse and dehydration, he pleaded and begged unseen shadowy figures not to take his family from him. The names never stopped: Splinter, Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, April, Casey, Leatherhead, Angel, Usagi. His cries grew only more heartfelt as he seemed to watch each and every one of his beloved, crazy, mismatched family tortured and killed, and, at several points, Mikey had to leave the room, unable to hear his strong brother sob his name. The relief in the room was palpable when Leo fell silent, the temperature finally receding to a less lethal level and the nightmares following after. As Leo's fever had reduced, Donnie had felt it was safe to leave him with Raph for a few hours. As the rest of the family slept in the comfort of their own beds for the first time in several days, Leo had woken, completely overcome with the paralyzing, illness-induced fear that had haunted him his whole life.

"Raphael," Leo rasped. "¿Están vivos, si? Por favor…" His voice broke as he choked on his swollen tongue. "Dígame que están todos vivos. Los necesito…" 'They are alive, yes? Please… Tell me that they are all alive. I need them…'

Raph had looked down at him with an unreadable expression, and Leo felt his heart sink. Raph didn't speak Spanish. Raph didn't know what he'd asked. He'd have to repeat himself in English, but he didn't know if he had the strength to ask again. Then, slowly, jerkily, Raph nodded.

"Están vivos, hermano," the hothead said, with uncharacteristic gentleness. "Todo está bien. Duerme." Raph smiled painfully. "Estaremos contigo cuando despiertas." 'They are alive, brother. All is well. Sleep. We will be with you when you wake up.'

Leo matched Raph's smile tooth for tooth as hot tears leaked from his eyes. If he were well, if he were in his right mind, he would never have cried before his most antagonistic brother, but he knew that there would be no mockery for this. As he drifted back into the loving bosom of soft and peaceful dreams, he thought he heard Raph's voice sound out again, in a broken, scratchy whisper.

"Permanece conmigo, hermano. Te necesitamos."

'Stay with me, brother. We need you.'

—Fin