Sleeping Death

Road to Recovery

I apologize for my long and unexpected hiatus. The end of this past semester was more difficult than I had originally anticipated. Coupling that with the fact that I've been busier than I usually am, I haven't been able to update as much as I would have liked to. However, as of today, I have...(let me check my calendar)...24 more days of winter break left and as such will have PLENTY of time to catch up on my writing.

Those of you that read/follow the story 6738 Miles will be glad to hear that the next chapter of that is already half-finished. Once I complete it I'll get it right on up for you all.

I also have several chapters of BB in the works and shall get those out as soon as possible.

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Leonardo rolled out of bed the next morning so upset, red-eyed, and sleep-deprived that he forgot about his injuries, and received a painful reminder. His feet buckled, his vision swirled, and he tumbled to the ground. His flailing arms swept the lamp off the nightstand. The light bulb shattered and the heavy base slammed down on the cement floor.

Leo cursed and stared at the ceiling as he lay on his shell with the wind knocked out of him, trying to gather strength.

Naturally, the commotion brought family members running. He was expecting Donatello or Master Splinter, but the first one on the scene was Slash.

"Leonardo!" The giant turtle rushed over and hoisted Leo off the ground. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

"Evidently," agreed Leo, allowing Slash to lift him up without a struggle. He groaned as he was set down softly on the bed. His arm had been cut by broken glass and was bleeding. Because of the pain he was already in, he barely felt it. In fact, he probably wouldn't have noticed if Slash hadn't been staring.

"Donatello's sleeping. I'll go get the first-aid kit from the lab."

Leo shifted, "You have much experience with first aid?"

"Enough," he answered, "What I didn't learn from Rockwell, I know from watching R—" Slash cut himself off and the rest of the sentence hung over their heads. Tension rose, but Slash shook it off and rushed out.

Leo stared after the big turtle, his mind reeling. Raph. Slash learned from watching Raph, back when—wait a second.

Raph had taken care of his own injuries? When? Why hadn't he gone to Master Splinter or Donatello? They could have helped him. Why did he always have to do everything by himself? Why couldn't he trust them? Why couldn't he let them help him?

Because he was afraid of being blown off. Because he was afraid of being shouted at, of getting in another fight, of being completely ignored—of getting angry.

Slash returned a few moments later. The air was heavy. It spun around their heads, filled with thoughts and remembrances.

"Leo, he asked me to tell you all that he loved you."

Leo stared, his brain not fully absorbing the words until a full two minutes of silence had ticked past. His eyes blurred. He closed them and let out a long, slow breath. "Why wait this long to say anything?"

"His death was my fault. I was lost in my own emotions, I forgot myself. I forgot my team, I forgot my pledge, and I forgot the honor I owed my friend. For that I can only apologize."

Silence resumed. Leo hesitated. Slash lingered awkwardly. Finally, accepting the eldest turtle's silence, he started to go.

"Wait."

Slash paused, but didn't look back.

"I—don't blame you. We've all been," Leo swallowed, trying to hold back a flood of emotion, "distracted since..." he didn't get any further than that. His throat tightened.