A/N: Hey everyone. Hope everyone has been having a great holiday season so far. I've actually had ideas for two Christmas stories this year. I haven't finished writing the second one so that one will be coming soon. Hopefully before Christmas. But with as busy as I'm going to be this week I'm not sure how that will work out. Unfortunately RL has kept me on my toes lately. For those of you wondering, yes I am working on my fourth story in the romance series. No this is not it. I'm hoping that Leonardo's story will be done and I will be posting before the showing season. If I don't have it done before then I'm afraid that training with my horse just takes too much time for me to completely focus on writing. But I'm hoping that I will have it done before then. It's coming along well so we'll see what happens.

This story is set in the 2007 universe, the first Christmas after Leonardo heads to South America and how the brothers are dealing with it. Mainly how Raph is dealing with it. I'm hoping to have the other story done by next weekend if so I'll post it next Sunday. If not my goal will be the 23rd. Have a great week everyone and happy holidays.

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Raphael turned up the dial on his small radio, cranking up the music as loud as the small speakers could go, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the Christmas music that Michelangelo was playing from downstairs.

Raphael had tried to just ignore it at first. But after listening to the same songs playing over and over, with Michelangelo humming along, it had been too much for Raphael to handle. He'd retreated up to his room and had turned on his preferred music, cranking it up to try and drown out some of the noise that Michelangelo was making downstairs.

He had been aching to pick a fight for the last few days. Things in the lair hadn't been the same after Splinter had sent Leonardo away on his "vacation" to South America. After Leonardo had left things had been tense at home, as if the lair itself was holding its breath, waiting for Leonardo's return. But that had been months ago, and there had been no indication that Leonardo was going to come back anytime soon.

At first Leonardo's letters to the family had been frequent and full of details about where he was and what he was doing. But the letters had been formal, almost as if Leonardo were writing to complete strangers. He never said he missed them, that he was ready to come home, or made any promise on when he would be coming home. He never pushed for details about what everyone was doing. It was as if Leonardo had gone to his own little world and had forgotten about the rest of them.

As the months had passed Leonardo's letters had become more sporadic and less detailed. Sometimes his brother only wrote a couple lines letting his family know that they had nothing to worry about. Once he had promised Michelangelo after numerous inquiries on Michelangelo's part, that he had hoped to be home before New Year's. Michelangelo had begged Leonardo to be home for Christmas, but there had been no reply to Michelangelo's plea so far.

Unwilling to give up hope that Leonardo would be coming home for Christmas, Michelangelo had insisted on decorating the lair so it would be ready for Leonardo when he arrived. Hence the Christmas music that droned on in the lair.

Raphael was ready to forget all about the holidays. What was the point? The lair hadn't been the same in months. The family hadn't been the same for months. Donatello had become obsessed with his new tech job he had managed to get. Taking calls from customers who were having problems with their computers. He spent most of his time in front of his multiple computer screens, leaning back in his chair and glaring up at the ceiling with an exasperated look on his face as he asked the same questions over and over most of the night.

When Michelangelo wasn't busy watching shopping channels on TV or sewer skating he was at his new job. Another of Donatello's brilliant ideas. Money had never been something easy for the family to come by but Donatello had come up with the idea for Cowabunga Carl, a mascot for little kids birthday parties. The costume itself, a zipper with a sticky back that Michelangelo would stick on his plastron and a giant turtle head he would stick over his own. As long as the kids stuck to hitting Michelangelo with the padded bats and not their hands, Michelangelo's true identity wouldn't be discovered.

At one point Donatello had tried to come up with a job for Raphael to help make money for the family but Raphael had simply snorted and had ignored his brother's suggestions. Much to Donatello's annoyance. Raphael didn't really care, as far as he was concerned he did have a job. Helping put some of the dirt bags that ran around New York in jail. Just because Leonardo had gone on vacation didn't mean that crime was going to take a break too. Someone had to do something about it.

So far his family didn't suspect that he was the one behind the vigilante stories that had been on the news lately, something he was grateful for. He knew that Michelangelo in particular had become very interested in the Nightwatcher stories, but had never caught on to the fact that Raphael was the one inside the costume.

Downstairs the music began to swell suddenly, drowning out Raphael's music once again. With a growl of irritation Raphael shut his music off and grabbed his topside disguise. A pair of baggy sweats and a hoodie. He needed some air. He barely paused long enough to slide his sai into the cut pockets of the hoodie for easy access before he left his room. Not bothering with the stairs he flipped off the landing and landed lightly on the balls of his feet.

Michelangelo was obviously aware of Raphael's appearance but didn't bother to turn from the garland he was carefully wrapping around the tree.

"Raph, great! Do you want to hand me that box with… " Michelangelo turned to point to the box he meant but his smile faltered when he saw what Raphael was wearing. "Are you going out?"

"Yeah. I'm goin' fer a run."

"Oh… ok, Raph. Do you want to help me put up some of the garlands when you get back?"

"No," Raphael said flatly. "He ain't comin', Mike. I don' see why yer goin' ta all da trouble fer nuttin'."

"He'll come, Raph. It's Christmas."

Raphael snorted. "Whatevah, don' come cryin' ta me when he don' show up."

He saw the hurt in his brother's face and tried to ignore it as he headed for the door, picking up a quick run as he hit the tunnels.

Why should his brother come home for Christmas? It wasn't like he had been home for anything else for the last several months. It was almost as if Leonardo had stopped caring about what was going on back home, or that they needed him. Well Donatello and Michelangelo did anyway. Raphael didn't. In fact he was starting to wonder if he cared if his brother came back. He didn't even miss him. Or did he?

Raphael climbed up one of the several ladders in the sewer tunnels to reach the surface and moved the heavy manhole cover aside so he could slip out into the chilly air before moving the manhole cover back into place. Even with his hoodie and sweat pants the cold chill bit through his clothes and made him suppress a shiver.

A light snow had begun to fall, the snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground, swirling in the soft wind. Raphael adjusted the hoodie he wore and began climbing up the nearest fire escape to the rooftops before taking off at a full out run.

He let his anger set the pace, let it drive him forward, strengthen him for every jump. Every leap. Let it fuel his muscles. It felt good despite his irritation with his youngest brother.

Why was Michelangelo so sure that Leonardo would be coming home anytime soon? Why was he setting himself up for disappointment? It was almost a childlike hope that their big brother would return home and join them for the holidays. But Raphael wasn't going to let himself be fooled. There wasn't going to be any happy reunion with their brother anytime soon. If Leonardo was so happy down in South America that he couldn't even bother to write to them more than once every few weeks then maybe he should just stay down there.

Raphael pushed off the ledge and launched himself to the next rooftop, a growl ripping up his throat. Snow was falling more heavily now, like thousands of angry bees, stinging against his face and chilling his blood. The only thing keeping him going was his anger.

How dare he? How dare he just up and leave them like he did? Why? He hadn't even given them a good reason on why he was leaving.

It's just for training, Raph. I'll be back, bro.

The last thing Leonardo had said to him before he had picked up the small pack he had prepared for his trip. His brother's dark brown eyes had been set and determined behind the blue mask, leaving no room for argument from his brother, despite Raphael's frustration at the situation.

And now this.

Two days before Christmas and Michelangelo was at home pretending everything was normal. Like everything would go on like it always had. But it wasn't the same. It wouldn't be.

Raphael's breathing hitched and he finally noticed the stitch in his side and the ache in his legs as he paused, breathing heavily. His breathing caused small clouds of condensation to rise in the air like smoke, barely visible now in the blizzard that was blanketing the city in a fine layer of white.

Raphael gripped the pummels of his sai inside his hoodie, as if holding onto them could keep him grounded somehow.

It took him a minute to realize where he was. Not too far from Rockefeller Center, even from where he stood he could see the giant Christmas tree all lit up. Despite the cold and the snow, Raphael sat on the ledge, staring at the twinkling lights and the bright star on top of the tree.

I'll be home for Christmas

You can plan on me

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents on the tree

Raphael wasn't sure how long he sat there but the cold was starting to make him feel stiff and tired. He could feel the chill deep down in his bones and knew he had to get moving. Donatello had warned them about being idol for too long in cold weather. Although not completely cold-blooded they were more susceptible to it than humans were.

Raphael stiffly got to his feet and headed back to the lair, the anger had drained out of him, leaving his mind clear and allowed him to focus on just how stiff and tired he suddenly felt. Keeping his hands inside his hoodie pockets he made his way to the edge of the building and made his way down the fire escape before slipping into the sewers just a block over. He'd make his way back home from there. Even though the tunnels weren't much warmer than it was outside, they at least protected him from the stinging wind.

Raphael followed the path of the sewer tunnels, knowing the way by heart. He knew the twists and turns the tunnels often took could still confuse Casey at times if they entered the tunnels at an unfamiliar spot. But Raphael had grown up down here it was impossible for him to get lost.

Raphael's thoughts lingered on Casey as he made his way down the tunnels. It was a good distraction. It had been a while since he had spent some time with the vigilante and he missed his impulsive and sometimes overzealous friend. Maybe, he thought, Casey would be up to sharing a six pack with him over the holidays. If he wasn't too busy with April anyway. The thought made him smile. He could always count on Casey. He was sure that the vigilante probably had a few cold ones up on the couple's shared apartment's rooftop. He hid them there so he could avoid the disapproving looks April would shoot his way.

Maybe he would just drop in for a quick visit. He wasn't in a rush to get home. He was sure that Michelangelo wasn't done decorating the lair yet, and until he was he was going to continue to play the same Christmas songs over and over again until Raphael was sure he would snap.

Before he could make up his mind he felt his shell cell buzz at his hip and jumped. Annoyed he reached and pulled the small device from his belt, barely glancing at the screen to see who was calling before he flipped it open.

"What Donny?"

"You heading back soon, Raph? April and Casey are here. April got another letter from Leo today. She brought it down for us."

"Yeah, I'm on my way back, Don. Should be dere in twenty minutes."

"Ok, Raph. Be careful."

"Don' worry, Don. I'm already underground."

"Ok, Raph. We'll see you when you get home."

Raphael rolled his eyes and shut the shell cell, tucking it back into his belt and picked up his pace.

With the aid of a few well known short cuts Raphael was able to make his way quickly through the tunnels and reached the lair in just under fifteen minutes. He reached up and pulled the pipe that would open the hidden door in the wall and stepped inside, full expecting to be blasted back by the Christmas music Michelangelo had been playing all afternoon.

Instead it was quiet inside the lair. Almost too quiet. The lair was brightly lit and the box with Christmas ornaments lay where it had been when he'd left. On the chair, untouched. The ornaments still waiting inside their boxes.

Raphael frowned. He would have thought that Michelangelo would have finished decorating the tree by now. Christmas had always been one of Michelangelo's favorite holidays, with the exception of Halloween. The young turtle had always been eager to decorate and had believed in Santa long after all the others had grown out of it.

Raphael's eyes wandered over the scarcely decorated lair. The garland hung limply from a few branches at the top of the tree, as if Michelangelo had stopped rather quickly or had gotten bored. Raphael didn't really care. Michelangelo would probably finish after April and Casey left.

He could hear the voices coming from the kitchen in low and solemn tones. It hadn't been quite the atmosphere he had been expecting when Donatello had told him April and Casey were stopping in for a visit. What had happened?

Raphael headed for the kitchen and saw their old friends sitting at the table with Donatello and Splinter. Michelangelo was no where to be seen. April was nursing a cup of coffee while Casey was staring at the bottle of beer he'd taken from Raphael's small supply he kept in the fridge for the vigilante. The condensation was running down the glass bottle and making a ring on the table. Casey didn't seem to notice. He had placed a hand on April's back, as if to comfort her.

Donatello's soft brown eyes snapped up to him as Raphael entered the kitchen.

"Somethin' wrong, Donny?"

Donatello silently pushed a piece of paper across the table toward his brother. Raphael scowled a little and took the three steps necessary to reach the table before snatching the piece of paper up from the table. He had no trouble recognizing his brother's handwriting. Obviously it was Leonardo's letter.

The letter was short, and to the point. Raphael barely skimmed over it before he saw what had obviously brought the holiday festivities to a grinding hault.

Doesn't look like I'll make it. Tell Mikey I'm sorry.

Raphael scowled. He had known this was going to happen, and had tried to warn Michelangelo about it. But Michelangelo had let himself get his hopes up anyway. Raphael couldn't help but feel irritated at them both. He dropped the letter back to the table, resisting the urge to crumple it up. Barely. He knew if he had Splinter would have had him doing flips in the dojo.

"Where's da chucklehead?" Raphael's voice was gruffer than he had meant it to come out. He saw Donatello's eyes sharpen for a second before his brother sighed.

"He went upstairs to his room. He's pretty upset. He was really looking forward to having Leo come home for Christmas."

Raphael just huffed and left the kitchen heading for the stairs. He would have to get Michelangelo's mind off of the fact that Leonardo wasn't going to come home. Not now. Not for Christmas. Maybe not ever. Not that he would voice that last opinion with his younger brother. No. He was the big brother now. It was his job to sort out the problems. It wasn't one he really liked.

Christmas Eve will find me

Where the love lights gleam

I'll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams

Raphael rapped his knuckles against his brother's door, then repeated the gesture when there was no response.

"Mike?" He pushed open his brother's door and spotted the younger turtle sitting on the bed.

Michelangelo had his back to him and was holding something in his hands, running his fingers over the edge of it.

Raphael let himself into the room without being invited and sat next to his brother.

"Ya alright, goofball?"

Michelangelo didn't answer for a long minute, as if thinking this over.

"No… not really, Raph." Michelangelo drew a shuddering breath. "I really thought he'd come home for Christmas."

"I know ya did, Mike." Raphael shifted closer to his brother and felt Michelangelo lean against his shoulder, seeking comfort from his older brother.

Raphael resisted his natural instinct to pull away from his brother's touch. He knew that Michelangelo sought comfort through physical touch and right now he needed it.

Michelangelo seemed to take comfort in the fact that Raphael hadn't pulled away from him and seemed content to just sit next to his brother in silence. He fingered the slightly faded photo he held in his hand. A picture of the four of them when they were twelve, the last year that Michelangelo had believed in Santa. The picture had been folded multiple times from the looks of it, a big crease went up the center of it with Raphael and Donatello on one side of Michelangelo and Leonardo on the other.

Donatello as usual hadn't been paying attention to the camera, but had locked his eyes on whatever gadget was in his hands. From the angle the picture was taken Raphael couldn't quite make it out. His own face glared back at him, moody and stubborn, impatient to get the photo over with. Michelangelo had been beaming proudly. Holding his drawing pad and pencils protectively to his plastron as if to shield them. Leonardo's hands were empty and a patient smile was on his face. His dark brown eyes warm behind the mask, relaxed in a way that wasn't very common for his brother.

"I really miss him, Raph."

"I know ya do, Mike. But he ain't gonna be gone forever."

Doubt crossed Michelangelo's face as if he wasn't sure if Raphael was right or not. Raphael could see the longing on Michelangelo's expression. The want. The need to believe what Raphael was saying. But doubt and uncertainty seemed to be winning out.

Raphael nudged him gently with his elbow, making Michelangelo's bright blue eyes look up from the picture he was holding.

"Come on. I'll 'elp ya finish up dat tree. Den we can start on da garlands. Maybe ya can use dem big puppy dog eyes o' yers ta convince April ta make cookies."

"Only if I get to lick the bowl," A slow smile began to replace the frown.

"No way, Mike. Ya always get da bowl."

"That's cause you are too old and slow, Raphie."

Raphael's eyes narrowed at Michelangelo taunting grin.

He made a grab at his brother. Michelangelo dodged the grab and jumped off the bed hurrying for the door.

"Gotta be faster than that, Raphie boy."

Raphael couldn't suppress the smirk as he heard Michelangelo chuckling as he made his way down the stairs to join the others in the kitchen. He got off his brother's bed and made his way to the stairs.

I'll be home for Christmas

You can plan on me

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents on the tree

The enthusiasm had been reignited in his baby brother as the Christmas music resumed. Raphael could hear the clatter of bowls being shifted around and was sure that Michelangelo had already convinced April to make cookies.

"Come on, Raphie!" Michelangelo yelled up the stairs as he reached for the garland he had left hanging on the tree, unfinished.

Raphael shook his head and flipped off the balcony picking up one of the box of ornaments and began slipping the hooks into place before he began to hang them up on the branches.

Within a couple minutes Casey, Splinter and Donatello had come out to join the brothers, making the job go much faster.

"Wanna put the star on top, Raphie?" Michelangelo asked as he shuffled around in the box and pulled out the rather battered looking star from the bottom, holding it out for his brother.

Raphael shrugged but took the star from his brother and stood on the chair Michelangelo had brought out for the purpose. Carefully setting the star at the top before plugging it in to the other lights.

"Raph, you put it on crooked!" Michelangelo complained, frowning. "You need to shift it to the left. No now the right. No to the left again. Steady. Steady. Hold it."

"If ya don't shut it, Mike, I'm gonna stick ya on top o' da tree," Raphael growled as he adjusted the star trying to make it as straight as possible.

"Perfect, right there," Michelangelo stepped back to admire their work.

Raphael shook his head and stepped down off the chair muttering under his breath.

Michelangelo shoved an armful of rather bushy garlands into his arms.

"Hold this," Michelangelo instructed as he grabbed the chair and headed for the wall, leaving Raphael to trail after him.

Christmas Eve will find me

Where the love lights gleam

I'll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams

Within the next hour Michelangelo made sure that lair was efficiently decorated. Then he darted back upstairs and returned with the picture he had been looking at when Raphael had gone up to his room to check on him. He pressed it flat and taped it above two of the stockings on the wall, then he pulled out a second picture and carefully folded part of it back before taping that one right in the center. A more recent picture of their brother. The contrast between the two pictures was obvious. But the same softness in his eyes, the patient tolerance was still there. A picture taken at last year's New Year's Eve party. Raphael recognized it. Michelangelo had been really started to grate on everyone's nerves as the party had wound down. Leonardo had taken on the stoic expression he usually got when he was trying to remain patient despite his irritation when the picture had been taken.

For Raphael the picture seemed like heavy reminder of Leonardo's absence, but it seemed to appease Michelangelo.

"Ok cookies are in the oven. Who wants to lick the… "

April didn't even have time to finish her question. With a laugh Michelangelo darted across the room and snatched the bowl from her hands.

"See, Raph, told you. You're too old and slow."

Raphael growled and began to chase his brother around the lair.

"Ha ha you can't catch me, Raph… " Michelangelo taunted as he started for the stairs. Raphael launched at his brother, catching him around the legs and brought his brother down.

Michelangelo dropped the bowl and it rolled on its side across the floor as the two brothers began a friendly wrestling match.

Donatello and Casey soon joined in and the ball of legs and arms rolled across the lair floor, bumping into the couch but making sure not to hit the tree.

Splinter shook his head and smiled before looking up at the wall where Michelangelo had taped Leonardo's picture. He could have almost sworn from the angle the picture had been taken that Leonardo was watching his brothers' antics and was amused.

No Christmas wouldn't be the same without his son here, but they would still have Christmas all the same. Hopefully next year Leonardo would have returned to them. Next year their family would be whole once more.

I'll be home for Christmas.

If only in my dreams.

The end.