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All That's Left

Summary:

There's routine and there's getting used to change. Some are quickly adaptable but, depending on the circumstance, it isn't always that easy.

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Being a ninja has its perks: one can evade the eyes of man whilst making way to their destination. However, even with such skill, moving through the night is more optimum, especially for Leonardo. Shifting over buildings and hiding around dumpsters is one thing but more open areas are difficult to navigate whilst adhering to the element of stealth. Luckily, the elements are in his favour: the downpour of rain shielding him by both sound and sight. He isn’t typically one to go to such lengths to get to one place unless it’s in the name of a mission but this has become a routine as of late. He does it as frequently as he can given his circumstances but it never feels as though it makes up for all of that lost time. By now, he knows this path like the back of his hand: sneak past ground watch, jump over the gate, and take the fifth walkway from the left. A few more paces and he’s made it. His observance is dim but his lips pull as best as they can at her sleeping form.

"Hey," he greets quietly. "Sorry, it’s been a few days since my last visit."

Despite the blank, paling face that stares back at him, his smile remains. He lays the flowers down and kneels before her.

"I would have brought everyone else with me but I decided to be a bit selfish today. Just the two of us. I hope that’s okay.”

Again, silence follows and he readjusts his sitting position to get comfortable.

"Things have been quiet lately," he continues, his eyes absentmindedly gazing over her bed. "I'd say it's a nice change but I wouldn’t mind the distraction."

He huffs a laugh and his head cranes towards his shoulder before straightening again. The gentle pierce of his brown stare wanders over the rest of the cold space that surrounds them. Despite having come here for the last two months, there’s still something new to look at. He remembers when he first heard of this being her new residence and how long it took to adjust. Often, he still finds himself heading towards her old apartment out of muscle memory. 

"I know it probably sounds like a broken record at this point but everyone misses you. I… miss you.” 

There’s a grasp on his throat, a squeeze that only tightens the more he tries to fight it. He swallows past the restriction, mouth dry, tongue suddenly alien to him. Just keep a level head. This isn’t anything new by now - his cheeks cave in against the deep intake of air. 

"There's a lot I should have said when I had the chance," he whispers hoarsely, though no words follow in this empty promise of rectification. 

He can’t do it. His eyes clamp shut with his lips, firmly pressed to hold back the internal incursion. He can't even bring himself to say it: what he wants to say; what he's wanted to say for so many years. There's no point knowing that he'll never get an answer. His fingers dig into the sodden ground, pulling away the strands of grass that have only just begun to grow above her. It breaks beneath his palms and sullies the very hands that tremble under his hunched body. He should remain composed. He shouldn’t fall apart like this. Is it not he who should be able to think straight during dire circumstances such as this? Be the voice of reason? For his family but not himself it seems. Not right now. 

With a heavy, laboured breath, his head pries upward to meet her grey face once more. The carved letters of her name stare back at him, dowsed in rain and he can only hope, wherever her spirit may be, that she isn’t crying for him. He doesn’t deserve her tears. He was in South America saving all of those people when he should have been here to save her. If he had come home when he was supposed to, this never would have happened. Leonardo and his brothers would have been back doing patrol before any of this could become a reality. She would still be alive. She would still be with him. He took her for granted and now he’s paying the ultimate price. 

“I thought I might find you here,” a voice calls out to him. 

A familiar voice. Not the one he’d be wishing for but a welcome one nonetheless. He tears his gaze away from the gravestone to be met by his friend April, who kneels beside him. She tilts her umbrella so that he may be sheltered too and together they sit quietly. Rain is their only comfort with this mutual understanding of unrest in the air. There isn’t anything that can be said to make better of this; nothing that hasn’t already been repeated countless times. 

With the clouds readying their part for day’s oncoming dawn, April takes her stand and outstretches a hand to her friend. He waves his muddied fingers with a pathetic attempt at a laugh and rises lethargically.

“Come on. You can’t hold onto this guilt forever, Leo,” she reminds him, just as everyone has been since his return. “She’d want you to let go.”

He's not sure he'll ever be able to rest on that idea. Not until he learns how to say goodbye, at least - the last word he had said to her so carelessly, not realising it would indeed be goodbye.