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Chapter Text

Donnie could hardly count how long they've been at this, this... what the turtle could only describe as purgatory. They've been buried under the rubble for days, at least that's what it felt like to Donnie. He and Mikey had to sit and watch the concrete creak and rubble, helpless to do anything as none of them could squeeze through the gap. Donnie's bo staff had been snapped in two, Mikey's nunchucks couldn't even dent the walls. Whatever they did, none of them could push the mountain of concrete, it was hopeless. It was Raph who eventually found them, used whatever strength he had left to dig, lift, push every piece of concrete away, until it was enough for them to pass through.

Whatever it was that hit their world in a blast, it had destroyed everything they known. Whatever remains of their lair had been crumbling to dust, wallowing away under the sewer walls that collapsed onto itself. Nothing was salvageable, not even the entirety of their family.

Splinter was gone. That much was confirmed. Donnie could still taste the remnants of dust, tears, and blood, seeping in between the cracks of his lips. The sight of their father, still and pale, it would bring any son crumbling to their knees in a pleading sob. It was true for Mikey, and it was true for him as well. But Raph... no, for Raph he needed to push forward.

Raph searched the area for their eldest brother, pushing away debris, concrete, nearly painting the area with his own blood, desperate to retrieve a brother that was slowly getting harder and harder to find. Don had been preoccupied with their father at the time, didn't even notice the sickening sound of metal rebar, giving way to drop heavy concrete on their shells.

Donnie doesn't know how it was possible, but it was Raph... Raph had somehow carried both Mikey and Don out of the way. His older brother shouted something to both of them, though Donnie could hear none of it. Despite this, he nodded anyway, following behind Raph's shell, a green blob that he could barely make out through his tears. They moved quick, as quick as three turtles with varying injuries can muster. He didn't even realize this, but he had been gripping onto Mikey's forearm the whole trip, desperate to keep his youngest brother within reach.

The turtles speeded through the tunnels of the New York sewage system, in a path the purple banded turtle could only recognize as the way to April's. Parts of the tunnels collapsed in on itself. As if in a maze, they had to navigate through the rubble. dead ends meeting them at every turn. It took them a whole day to finally reach an exist.

When they finally hit the sewer grate open, it had been a blinding flash of pure sunlight. Yet no humans were around, not the ones alive anyway. For a split second, Mikey caught a glimpse of a bloody hand from the dumpster. He didn't yelp, didn't even make a sound. No, he was left in a daze, frozen. It was Raph who finally blocked his sight, a hand planted at the back of his head, guiding the younger turtle towards the building's fire escape.

When the three finally reach the top, the window to April's apartment had been shattered. Looking inside, the entire space was a jumbled mess of fallen furniture and broken glass. No trace of either April or Casey in sight. But finding no weapons, food, or a med kit meant that they had to have left right? Whatever the consensus may be, the red clad turtle had moved on and scoured the apartment for supplies they could use.

A quick turn of the knob, and water had been spraying out from the faucet. Raph called the two of them to drink and clean themselves, while he busied himself with looting. Don let Mikey drink first, some sort of "older brother" instinct that was somehow still functional. When he was done, he let himself get lost in the taste of water. Bland as it may be, it was good and refreshing, and it washed away all of the bitter taste that was stuck on his lips for the past few hours. After Raph had tossed some clothing towards them, intended to be a placeholder as dressing for their injuries. Donnie did what he was good at, he tended to Mikey's wound, a superficial cut near his upper arm, bandaging the area with a shirt after cleaning it up with the water. He did the same with his own wound, wrapping a clean scarf around his thigh.

It was then that the purple clad turtle decided that he needed to clean Mikey of any remnants of the scene before. The younger turtle had been spasming periodically with hiccups from a fresh sob. His eyes fixating towards whatever sound Raph was making by rummaging around. Carefully, Donnie uses a damp shirt to wipe the red off of Mikey's hands, running it under the water every now and then to keep it wet. He chipped away the dried blood, dust and grime. Until eventually, some sort of normalcy was restored as Mikey was clean of everything. Feeling satisfied, the older turtle did the same to himself. Wiping away all the bitter memories of what they had just witnessed, until everything was washed away by water.

Donnie knew... Donnie knew he needed to help his older brother out right now. But the nerves under his skin shake with an intensity that he could barely tolerate. He's just... so exhausted. A glance at Raph's sure movements, beckoning Donnie to just let him do the work for now...Just for now. He makes a mental note, reminding him to help out when he has the strength for it.

But something he can do now, is to patch Raphael up, just as he did to himself and Mikey. When he called out for the older turtle, Donnie could hear the sluggish footsteps leading towards him. He hadn't been as conscious and aware as he was now, so he didn't really notice how his footsteps were slow, heavy... it echoed the walls in a haunting manner, and Donatello instantly knew something was wrong.

He sees his brother's large figure emerging into the doorway. Although the sight of him wasn't pretty, it's clear that he wasn't as injured as he initially thought he'd be. He had a gash across his face, one that stretched from his forehead, to his left eye, then down to his cheek. The entire left half of his face was drenched in blood, but at least from the looks of it, his eye will survive. Some patches on his left arm were burned as well, but it's not life threatening. So Donnie made quick work in cleaning, then bandaging the area off with a slimmer scarf.

Raph's hands had been bloodied from pushing the debris around in search of Leo. But he left them be, the one on his face was more important. As well as patching up the burns he'd sustained. When he turned the tap on, his anxiety rose at the sight of the water streaming significantly weaker than before. So he turns it off as soon as he can. Despite this being the only injury he can see, Donatello felt uneasy. He can't help but feel that there's more under his brother's stoic demeanor. Raphael instantly recognized the look and quickly dismisses it.

Even as the feeling stayed, Donnie submits, not wanting to cause an argument. Frankly, he doubts he has the energy to do anything else, as he sets his mind on just doing what he needed to do. He encourages Raphel to drink water instead. But when they turn the tap, there was barely a trickle, until it slowed down to drips, then to nothing at all. Mikey had looked at Raph with sympathy, a wrinkle above his brow that meant he was worried. The red clad turtle was silent, he didn't even seem upset. Only... indifferent.

He'll be alright , he said at the time. Sounding calm and calculated, a tone of authority. He sounded so sure, so assertive. Donnie couldn't help but believe his words. His older brother coughed, before setting back out to loot. The purple banded turtle watches solemnly as he slips away from the door frame, too tired to argue against what might be the only stability he has for the moment.

~~~

Eventually, they've found a van... the party wagon. It was parked neatly by their favorite pizza place, right where they left it.

It was burnt in some places, dented in others. But telling from the roar of the engine, it still worked. An actual working vehicle. Somehow, it had kept itself safe, wedged between the buildings that shielded it from the blast. Unlike the other vehicles they've found, which had been pulled apart, crashed and destroyed.

It had been... overwhelming, to see everything still in place. Donnie's equipment was just sitting idly where he left it, albeit knocked over and sprawled out in places. It was still working. Though he doubts it's of any use to them now, seeing as how the cell towers probably broke down.

Yeah, they had tried calling Leo. They tried calling April and Casey too. Despite what they know, they had tried, countless times. Until eventually their shell cells died, and there was nothing they can do. Electricity was down, along with water and everything else.

Mikey's game boy had been on the window sill where he discarded it before a mission. Though the turtle didn't make any attempts to grab it, instead he slumped in and retreated to sitting on one of the cushioned seats.

Raph didn't usually bring anything to the van but leftover wrappings, which were in the storage compartment where he left them. He started towards it, before something catches at the corner of his eye.

"What is it, Raph?" Donnie asked. But he finds that the question was immediately answered when he saw the holster to Leo's katanas lying in his brother's hands.

For a quick moment, Raph had looked uncertain, conflicted. Donnie knew why. He knew Raph still held out hope that Leo was somehow still out there, the urge to search the city for their eldest brother evident in the way his brows furrowed.

But after a moment, he shook his head, stashing the holster to his belt, "We gotta get goin'."

Watching his brother straighten up, sighing, then moving towards the wheel, it made Donnie sick to his stomach. Because he can't blame Raph for making this decision.

Without any verbal prompting, they had already scoured the entire city for Leo prior to finding the van. And Raph knows they don't have the luxury to do that again. When there's a threat of another bomb hitting New York city at any moment, Raph knows he can't risk it. They needed to leave.

So they drove. To where? Donnie doesn't entirely know, it doesn't seem to be the best time to ask Raph about that. But from the passing road signs, they seem to be heading somewhere towards Long Island. That path was immediately abandoned though, with debris blocking the way. So they swerved around.

For a while, the interior of the van was silent, disrupted only by the periodic hums of the engine.

"So what do we do now?" Mikey had finally asked. The question was purposefully left vague, but it was clear to the rest what he meant.

What do we do about Leo now? They all heard it loud and clear.

The purple clad turtle didn't answer, mostly because he knew the younger turtle directed it to Raph. But even so, he doesn't really know what to say either.

After a long stretch of silence, Raph finally replied, "We go to April's farmhouse," answering the question at face value.

Even as Mikey was unsatisfied with his answer, he doesn't push on asking further.

~~~

It was dark out, the turtles had stopped for gas near a junkyard. They would've stopped near a gas station, but who is to say there weren't any humans there? Especially since it was relatively early into the night. They weren't entirely sure if the blast reached this part of town.

It had taken them significantly longer to even leave New York. With everything blocking the roads, not to mention the abandoned cars and vehicles that had been stuck in traffic. Leaving the city itself took nearly 6 hours, just meeting and re-meeting dead ends. Fortunately, there was a road clear enough to drive through, but it required them to circle the city, before they could even drive towards Northampton.

Raph at this point, was technically blind in his left eye, via the scarf that Donnie used to patch him up. But that doesn't explain how his body was rigid, stiff and limited in his movements.

Donnie tried to volunteer for gas syphoning, but the older turtle had dismissed it. Leaving the van with a container in hand, a thin hose in the other.

A few moments stretched by, where Donnie and Mikey just sat at the table in silence. None had even tried to make eye contact with each other.

Before the silence stretched longer, Michelangelo shifted in his seat.

"We didn't get to bury him."

Instantly, he felt a pang at his chest, as the older turtle struggled to look up at his younger brother. Mikey was motionless, but he could see the light hitting his eyes in a way that meant it was moist.

There was a wave of something. Something Donnie felt deep within his chest, and it hurled him over, beckoning him to just bend over and cry. But he held against it, he didn't want to do it in front of Mikey.

God, Mikey... Even as he was roughly the same age as them, being the youngest always meant he was their "baby brother". Mikey was always the livelier one of the bunch, the one who most definitely acted his age. Naturally, all the turtles were significantly softer with Mikey, that even included Raph.

None of the turtles would ever admit this, but Mikey was always there to boost the team morale. Whether it be cracking jokes at the face of danger, or just keeping the turtles grounded enough to realize that... yeah, they were all still kids at the end of the day.

Mikey... he's just a kid. Donnie shook his head. He's just a pubescent teen, one that fought monsters and ninjas, one that was arguably capable of handling himself. But he was just a kid...

No kid should ever see what they saw.   

Donnie, as literate as he is with every possible book on psychology, practically self-trained in the art of counseling, had no idea what he can say. No idea what could possibly take Mikey's hurt away.

Still, he wanted to try . But before he could open his mouth to speak, Raph had came back with the gas. The two turtles felt him maneuver around the side of the van, emptying the container's contents into the socket, then promptly closing it before coming inside.

Without a word, their older brother sat in the driver's seat, turning the engine on. Instantly, the van roared back to life. He coughed lightly into his fist, clearing his throat, then putting both hands on the steering wheel. But before he can push the pedal, Donnie chimed up.

"Raph?" he started, "do you wanna switch out?" Knowing the turtle had drove his brothers around for hours, he must feel exhausted about now.

Raph was quiet. He stared out beyond the windshield, not even bothering to turn towards his brothers.

"No." He said, a sense of finality in his tone. He swerved the van around back onto the road, then continued on their path to, what they hope to be, salvation.

~~~

Donnie had woken up, unprompted. The van had been parked beside the highway. It seemed it had been that way for a while. There were some light snoring beside him, Mikey's arm draped over Donnie's plastron. They were both at the floor of the van, clutching each other as they fell sleep.

When Donnie turned towards the driver's seat though, there wasn't any snoring to be heard. Raph should've been asleep by now, but from his somewhat conscious breathing, it was clear that he was indeed awake.

His breathing had been... uneven. Labored as if it hurt to breathe. Finally, Donnie understood why he couldn't shake his anxieties away. It was rather obvious, the way Raphael moved sluggishly, stiff and heavy. The younger turtle palmed at how he could've missed that.

Carefully brushing off Mikey's arm, he sat up. Quietly stepping over limbs and shell to make his way towards the passenger seat.

A soft, annoyed sigh escaped his older brother, "you shouldn't be awake." It was more of a quiet talk rather than a whisper.

He lured himself down to the seat. A few beats passed before he spoke up, "Are you okay?"

Raph was never the type to entertain those words, but still Donnie had to try.  Before Raph could dismiss it again, Donnie followed, "Your ribs... did it get crushed at the lair?"

After a long pause, he sighed, "It's fine, Don... Nothin' we can do, 'nyway."

Which wasn't what Donnie wanted to hear, but at least he acknowledged that he was hurt. He was right, there was nothing they could do at the moment. They just had to sit and wait for his ribs to heal on their own. Doesn't mean it was painless, though. With no proper medical equipment, ice or painkillers, Raph would be suffering the worst of it for the next six weeks or so. Not to mention, how active he'd been in just... doing everything.

When was the last time he slept?

He glanced at his brother, bloodied, with grime painting every inch of his leathery skin. He was the dirtiest out of all of them, as Don and Mike were fortunate enough to actually clean themselves off. Raph was growing weaker and slower by the hour, yet he still insists on taking charge.

Goddamnit, he should've let Raph drink the water first. Though the injury involved his eye, it really wasn't that serious. His burns needed the water, but it would've helped if he used that water to build up his strength as well. The showers and faucets had stopped working, even in other apartments. Though there were a few exceptions, they didn't get much to drink before it eventually ran out. Even so, Raph hd insisted that Don and Mike would drink first.

"How's your eye?" Donnie asked again, eyes glued at his shuffling thumbs.

"I'll live," he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, briefly catching a sight of the Mario keychain dangling by the rear view mirror. Shifting his gaze back beyond the windshield, Raph asks, "How's Mike?"

Don exhales a sharp breath, scrambling for words. Despite being the turtle with the widest vocabulary, his tongue dries out with phantom words.

"That bad, huh?" Raph finally speaks for him, before letting out a sharp breath of his own, "Fuck..."

"And you?" the red clad turtle continued, "how are you holding up?"

Don lets out another puff of breath, briefly shrugging his shoulders awkwardly, "I don't know... I'm... alright?" finding the conversation uncomfortable, he shifts focus, "I think we need to find food and water soon, though. I've been hearing Mikey's stomach rumbling. Not to mention the risk of you getting dehydrated."

"Honestly, Don... it's fine. I'm fine," Raph taps at the steering wheel once more, "know any convenience stores around these parts, though?"

"Uhh... one up the end of the highway, before it branches out," he supplied, hesitating, before prompting again, "seriously, Raph... I can drive. My leg can push the pedal fine enough."

Donnie gestures towards the slew of clothing wrapped around his thigh, it had gotten better the past few days. It barely even stung now. Raphael followed his visible eye to the injury, indeed it was fine. Red had bled through the bandages, but it was crusted enough to mean that it was from a couple of days ago.

It was a while before his older brother finally meet his eyes, the left side of his face covered in stained makeshift bandages, "fine... I'll take over after a quick nap."

Shifting his weight, Raph pushes himself up. A wince escapes his mouth before he can even try to stifle it.

Really, how did Don not notice a thing? The sound of Raph's winces and grunts had been such a familiar sound, because he had been making these noises for the days they were stuck in the city. Don and Mike just... didn't pay it any mind, their attentions were zeroed in on the world around them. The broken down, lifeless city they used to love.

Raphael moved slow, like an old man. Donnie felt as if his brother aged a decade from this ordeal. It was scary to see him... different. But everyone had to be, their home was just ripped away from their hands, their loved ones, missing. Who wouldn't be different?

"Let me know if there's any pain, I'll do the best I can." Donnie had switched to the driver's seat as soon as Raph left it, cranking the lever to set it back to drive.

He hears a quick chuckle behind him, which was abruptly cut off. Darting his eyes towards the rear view mirror, a minor panic leading him to check if he's alright.

He coughed, hissed, then continued "I'll sleep it off." Before pressing his shell against the wall of the party wagon, an arm draped over the part where it probably hurt. He lulls his head to the side, gazing down at Mikey's sleeping form, before leaning his head back and closing his eye.

~~~

Raph slept less than Donnie thought he would. It was still dark out when they arrived at the mentioned convenience store. The lights were off, no sign of life inside. Telling from how dark it was, it was safe to assume it would remain vacant for at least a couple of hours. Finally they could get proper medical supplies, plus some actual food.

Their days in the city were filled with eating random scraps of garbage. With food from stores and elsewhere missing or burnt to a crisp. Eating cardboard hadn't been that bad actually. It tasted like anyone would expect, bland and chewy. There were enough of them lying around to last the turtles for a few days. Obviously, they still had to ration everything out.

Maybe it's because they were older, but both Don and Raph had let Mikey eat the most of it. That's not to say they didn't eat any at all. In fact, Donnie ate just enough to sustain himself. Raph... not so much. Eating only the scraps leftover.

Donnie mentally face palms as he rears the van to the side of the store. The purple clad turtle had been letting his brother get away with disregarding his own health for far too long. It had been too easy, to just follow Raph's lead. It was almost as if the times where the red clad turtle were throwing tantrums, butting heads against Leo, flipping off any authority in the house, just never happened.

In fact, Raph hadn't even been angry. Hadn't even cried when Splinter passed, hadn't thrown a fit when Leo was gone. Now, it's as if he was a total stranger, so devoid of the turtle he was before. The turtle who would've allowed himself to wallow in negative emotions.

No, he just kept moving forward. He grabbed his two brothers by the shells and dragged them along, because they needed to move forward.

There was no time for pit stops, no time for letting the emotions just wash over you. Because they needed to push through or die. At least it felt that way to Donnie. He has to admit, this constant motion of moving forward probably saved their asses in the long run. Again, they weren't safe where they are. Still, holding all this... anger, this grief... it never felt good.

Mikey startled awake when the van hiccuped to a park. Sucking in a sleepy breath, he rubs at his eyes, surveying the van around him, "What? We here already?"

"Just a quick stop." Raph didn't elaborate, the ends of his lips twitching upward slightly. He eased himself into a sitting position. Donnie catches him grimace, but otherwise made no sound when he hoisted himself up.

"Essentials, Mike. Alright?" Donnie jabbed a playful finger towards his direction, a small smile creeping up to his lips unknowingly. He plucked the keys from the engine, tossing it into the air towards Raph who caught it instinctively.

"Whuh—" Mikey blinked, pushing himself up to look outside the window. His eyes widen, mouth agape, "no fucking way—"

The store was in pristine shape, so separate from the buildings from the city. Raph could almost see the sparkle returning to Mikey's baby blue eyes. The youngest turtle lightly hopped in place from excitement, "This was here?! Dude!!" He exclaimed incredulously. Almost as if offended that they didn't wake him up sooner.

Raph lets out an amused grunt, "better haul shell before the store opens." He opens the door to the van, waiting for Mikey to hop on out.

"'Essentials' my ass! We're taking the whole damn store!" the youngest turtle skipped through the door. Donnie following after with a grin, shaking his head in amusement as he trails after Mikey towards the store's main entrance.

The orange clad turtle breathes on the glass, wiping the fog off before peering in with his face pressed to it, his hands making binoculars, "Du-huuude! D'ya think they have pizza in there?"

Before making sure the security cameras were disconnected, both Don and Mike entered the store through the vent. Donnie had let Mikey go on his own crusade of food hunting, while he sauntered into the security office. Turns out the cameras weren't even on. In fact, it hadn't been on for several months, most likely due to the repairs it needed. The storekeepers probably only kept it for show. Either way, it was a miracle to them.

Finally, they can just slow down for at least a few hours. Unwind their nerves and just let themselves breathe.

When Donnie exited the security office, Mikey had come running towards him. He slammed a cup of something cold in his hands, "Bro-hoo! The slushy machine still works!"

"I got you blueberry, by the way," tapping Donnie's shoulder before going off and checking the isle once again.

Blueberries had always been Donnie's favorite. He feels the ice cold drink in his hands, and remembers how impossible this used to feel. To find actual food, to drink something actually good.

The feeling overwhelms him. It felt as though what he's holding in his hands right now had been so divinely blessed upon him, a sacred gift. After everything they've been through.

Actual fucking food.

Donnie sat down, gazing up at the slushy. He lures his lips to the straw and sips. The coolness of the icy liquid meeting his tongue, before going down his throat, and it tasted... he actually tasted something, actual flavor. Not cardboard, not salty tears, dust or blood... it tasted like blueberries.

He tried to hold himself back, but he unintentionally gulped the entire drink down in several slurps.

God, it tasted so good.

His thoughts were interrupted by a "ding" from the counter, followed by the familiar sound of a microwave door popping open.

"Donnie! The microwave fucking works!" Mikey came running in with a pizza in hand, steam emanating as the cheese drizzled.

Before the turtle could indulge in his excitement further, he looked around, sensing an absence, "Where's Raph?" Immediately, the younger turtle's face dropped.

The purple clad turtle turns his head towards the window, barely hearing the faint sound of something heavy being loaded into the van. How can they just forget Raphael?

"Go heat up some more pizzas, Mikey. I'll check on him," standing up, Donatello sets the slushy aside.

Before he could head for the doors, Mikey stops him, "Hey, uh..."

Donnie stops mid-step, rotating his head enough to look at his brother. The younger turtle hesitates, shuffling his feet, "Is-" he muttered, "is Raph okay?"

Donnie is stunned to a stop, unsure of how to reply. He shifts his entire body to face Mikey now, sensing that this might be a longer conversation, "What do you mean, Mike?"

"Well..." his eyes darts to the side, "He doesn't tell me anything. But, I dunno. He seems..." he gazes back up at Don, "...sick. Or hurt. Or whatever, dude, I don't know shit about doctor stuff."

"Does it seem serious to you?" Even with the knowledge of Raph's current rib injury, the anxieties never left. Because what if Donnie's missing something? Either that or Raph's just purposefully hiding it from their resident medic. Whatever Mikey saw, it's enough for him to actually ask about it. Which in itself, is a bit concerning.

"I dunno, bro. Like I said, I'm stupid when it comes to junk like that," he shrugs, "I dunno, he's just kinda... slow. Seems like he's not telling us e'rythin', y'know?"

Donnie huffs, "well, it's Raph, what do you expect?" he dismisses, but the anxieties still remained, "don't worry though, he's just a little bruised. He'll get better on his own."

Mikey doesn't seem convinced, but he nods anyway, "just... I know you guys don't like to talk about this kinda shit to me. And I get that, really, I do. But-y'know..." he rubs at his arms awkwardly, "I worry too."

Sometime's it's easy to forget that Mikey's more socially aware than he lets on. In some ways, Donnie does feel bad that they do tend to leave Mikey out of discussions. Especially when... Leo was in charge. They opted to just brush him off and let him do his own thing. It never occurred to Donnie that he might actually be feeling left out.

"Yeah..." Donnie started, "Yeah, Mikey... I know. Don't worry, I'll let you know when it calls for it." It's not really a promise to improve on the situation, but at least it's true. He'll let Mikey know what he needs to know.

Donnie heads towards the entrance, it was still visibly dark outside. The scenery only lit up by the party wagon's headlights, as it parked beside the store. The door was locked from the inside, so there was a knob conveniently for Donnie to unlock.

Another heavy thud rattled at the back of the van, so Donnie circled to the side of the store, towards the trunk.

He hears another thud, followed by a series of coughs, growing harder and wetter by each take. He then hears a painful wince, Raph hissing, then a creak of the van as he leans against it for support.

"Raph?" Donnie inched closer, heart leaping out of his plastron, "Raph? Are you alright?"

"Don," he coughed again. The younger turtle reached the back of the van, enough to see his older brother clutching his side. He then quickly straightens up as if nothing even happened, " 'M just gettin' gas. I'll catch up in a bit."

He then proceeds to head back to the pile of fuel tanks to pluck another one.

"Raph, what's going on?" he marched after him, "you said you're fine, but clearly something's up."

The red banded turtle, with his visible eye, glared at him dangerously. A familiar rage that Donnie hadn't seen in nearly a week, but it doesn't seem to soothe him as he thought it would.

Raph continues carrying the tank fuel back to the trunk of the van, before turning back around to get some more. Donnie however, blocks his way, gazing up at his older brother's visible eye.

"Donnie, I'm tryna get gas." The older turtle announces sternly, speaking slow without breaking eye contact, "I will catch up in a bit."

"Look, I get it. You don't wanna drag us down or some other linked reason. Whatever. Okay, I get it." he straighten himself up, "I just don't-"

I don't wanna lose-

He pauses, unable to hold himself back from looking at the ground, "I'm just tryna keep whatever family I have left."

It was abrupt, blunt, and frankly, a bit of an extreme sentence to drop on someone. He admits, Donnie did say it partly for the shock factor. But Donnie meant every word in spite of it, desperate to just get Raph to actually fess up.

Raph didn't like this response, maybe even slightly enraged to hear those words. But somehow the sentiment reached him. He sighed, "yeah, I've been hackin' some nasty stuff, lately. 'S not serious, so don't get your panties in a twist."

"Any blood?" Donnie prodded, still a bit anxious.

"No. Just some phlegm. Whatever it is, we can't do much anyway." He massages his temple with a hand, before looking back at Don with an expression. An expression that Don recognized as saying "are you happy now?"

"Well, I don't think you're internally bleeding. But I think you may be coming down on a chest infection."

"Well, is it serious?"

"It's not terminal."

"Then don't worry about it. " he walked pass his younger brother, not even bothering to check his response, "Again, can't do shit right now. It won't do us any good if I burn through our supplies."

" 'Don't worry about it?' " Donnie looked halfway mortified, a burn in his throat beckoning to choke him, "Raph, this chest infection might not kill you, but dehydration and starvation surely will. "

"Don-"

"Raph, please. Just get inside the damn store. Eat something, drink some water. You're no use to us dead."

Donnie hears Raph mumble something under his breath. He heard the words loud and clear, despite how silently Raph had said it.

Those words that were loosely thrown around dropped stones down into Donnie's stomach. Those words were meant to be a throwaway line, but something about how sincere Raph had said it gave them a whole different meaning.

The words hurt. It hurts so bad.

For a split second, the atmosphere had changed, a sickening aura radiating from Raph in steady pulses. But he was already walking away, obliging to Donnie's request. He heads towards the entrances, no words left to say.

But he is obliging. So, just for now... Donnie follows after him and pretends that he never heard anything at all.

When the oldest turtle entered the shop, he is immediately bombarded by an orange blob of pure joy, dumping a slice of steaming hot pizza in his hand.

"Raphie! Come on, pizza's gonna get cold soon!" Mikey had a bottle of water in hand, prepared to give it to his brother if need be.

Donnie watches as how Raph's attention quickly shifts to the bottle, ignoring the pizza entirely. He was shaking when he finally took a hold of it. Unscrewing the cap, he lures it to his lips like a desperate dog, water leaking from how fast he tried to drink it. His visible eye closed, tilting his head back to gulp everything down. After consuming every last drop of the water, he was panting softly from holding his breath as he drank.

Raph feels a heavy pat on his shoulder, "Come on, dude. Pizza's really good." Mikey handed him the pizza once again. The eldest turtle had given it to him when he went for the water.

Without a word, he bit into it. The cheese melting into his tongue, he wolfed it down as quickly as he did with the water.

"What'd I tell ya?" Mikey tapped at Raph's shoulder, "Nothin' like a piece of pizza del Mikey-Angelo's. "

It was brief, but Donnie caught it. The ends of Raph's lips twitching upward, his visible eye gazing down at Mikey with pure adoration.

"Pfft. 'Mikey-Angelo's'? You microwaved this!" Raph scoffed, reaching for the counter to grab another slice from the box.

"But it's good, ain't it?" Mikey taps at Donnie's elbow, encouraging him to agree with him.

"Any pizza is 'good pizza' to you, Mikey." Donnie deadpanned, "but I have to admit, it's quite delectable." He shrugs, smiling as he took another bite.

"See dude! Even Donnie's sproutin' fancy words from how good it is! Bon appetit-ing!"

"Yeah, yeah! Shut your hole, let me eat in peace."

After everything, this. Having this. A hot meal, a good laugh. It felt as if it had been a lifetime since they did this. For a moment, just for tonight, they can be normal. As if nothing ever happened.

They stayed like that for at least an hour or two, cracking jokes, eating junk food. Just for a second, It felt like old times.

But of course, it wouldn't last. Whatever they had together today, Donnie wished he cherished it. Because all of that joy, that togetherness, it was gone now.  Now, things were different, as soon as they've gotten to April's.

Chapter Text

It's been roughly 6 weeks since they've arrived at the O'Neil farmhouse. The drive from the convenience store to Northampton didn't take long, as they drove for only 3 more hours.

The house was empty. No life in sight, not even a trace. Everything was still in place, just the way they left them when they decided to search for Splinter after Raph was thrown through the skylight. The coffee rings on the wooden table were faded, dust collected on countertops and furnitures. No one had been here for years.

Their stomachs felt heavy, their hearts throbbing and aching in a dull pain. How could they not be here yet? The turtles had taken their sweet time leaving the city, why the hell weren't they here yet? The ache remained a steady pulse, as they wait in bitter agony. But as each day passes on, Casey and April were becoming a distant memory.

As tempting as it was to steal everything they could see in that store, even if it was for survival. They were ultimately still stealing, and people would retaliate. If they took too much, the store owners would eventually grow suspicious, and who knows what that could entail. Being ninjas, they've left the place exactly as they've found it. They've pushed the boxes and knick knacks to the front of its shelves, hiding how much they took: Donnie doesn't miss the way the youngest turtle's brows creased, lips quivering.

After 2 weeks, they've burned through all their salvaged food. It took 2 more weeks to burn through the canned food left in the farmhouse. Which wasn't a lot to begin with, but they still had to ration it somehow. Donnie admits, it's quite impressive that they were able to stretch it out for as long as they did. Eventually though, they were still out of food.

With no other choice, they needed to either start growing food, or go hunting for it. Raph being Raph, he volunteered to do the latter. And Raph being Raph, he volunteered to do it alone. Of course it was not met without protest, Donnie even volunteering to go hunt with him. But more often than not, he opted to go alone.

Despite his rib injury, Raph had still been the most active one of the bunch, doing the laborious work such as chopping firewood and carrying kills home. Donnie of course, tried to ease him up on the work, doing the chores and other things that Raph could possible do. Secretly, Mikey would also do the same, helping Don out with whatever he needed. Though no matter what chore Donnie or Mikey tried to do for their eldest brother, hunting was always Raph's thing.

He figures it was some sort of coping mechanism, a way to turn his mind off of the reality they were living in. Even as Donnie tried to tamper with gardening, an attempt to produce crops and vegetables that they could soon harvest. It still meant that they had to rely on hunting for their main food supply, as the crops needed time to grow. This would mean Raph had to go hunting basically every other day.

On the days where the red clad turtle was in a relatively good mood, he'd nod to one of the brothers joining him on his trek. More often than not, it was Mikey who accompanied him on his hunt.

Aside from playing his Gameboy, Mikey actually started taking an interest in sketching. After finding a blank notebook in the attic where April's old school supplies were stashed, he'd been taking the time to hone his skills to put the world around him onto pages. Donnie has to admit, he was getting good at drawing. Keeping a journal seemed to benefit Mikey, he'd seem more put together since he had it.

Going hunting with Raph was a good opportunity for him to take in the scenery and sketch whatever he saw. Well, Mikey wasn't really even "hunting". It was more so that he sat in one place, drawing as he waits for Raph to come back with the kill.

Another one of Mikey's new skills was actually cooking. More often than not, he'd been the one preparing meals with the livestock they gathered. And surprisingly, it was actually very good. Donnie and Raph would cook too, but it was Mikey who eventually stepped into the role of chef. Kind of astonishing what he can do without distractions from technology.

Donnie on the other hand, had preoccupied himself with reading every book on gardening in the house. Which wasn't really helpful, seeing how his crops would die instantly. He just doesn't get it! Was it the soil? The way he planted the seed? Was it some sort of pest?

One day, Donnie was particularly pissed off, as he spent a considerable amount of effort trying to keep this batch alive. It was the most promising one out of all the other batches he'd murdered. But one look from the the crumpled and brown leaves of his tomatoes, the way it didn't even stay planted, lying down with its roots sticking out; it sent Donnie to go berserk, yanking out every dead plant from its soil then ripping it up with his bare hands.

He didn't remember if he'd screamed then, didn't even remember that he had actually cried. But when he felt droplets of something on his hand, he knew it was probably the case.

He heard steady, heavy footsteps inch closer to him, where Don knelt on the ground, the soil hugging his feet. The kind of footsteps that made its presence known, it was almost deliberate in the way it didn't bother hiding the noise from every stomp.

A sigh follows when the footsteps finally stopped beside him, "Come on," his voice was deep yet soft, a motherly tone that Donnie recognized Raph would use sparingly, "let's go hunt."

They kept silent when trekking through the woods, only occupied by the sounds of prickling leaves under their feet. Raph didn't bother to console him, didn't even look in his direction. Only trusting that Donnie would follow him as they moved through the trees. Weirdly enough, Donnie preferred it that way.

They stopped by the river, setting down the bucket they brought to hold the fish. Donnie grabs his makeshift spear, a weapon he carved out from scrap wood lying around in the house. Since his bo staff had been snapped in two during the blast, the spear had become some sort of replacement weapon.

After catching enough fish to tire him out, Donnie decides to sit down on a nearby rock while Raph continues to catch for more. Observing his older brother for a while, Raph was still relatively bigger than all of the turtles, but it was evident that he had actually gotten thinner. The fat from his arms seemed to just disappear until he was mostly just muscle now, his veins popping out more visibly than before.

The cut on Raph's face had healed sufficiently enough that he no longer needed the bandaged over his eye. The scar stretched from his forehead, to his eye, down to his cheek, making him look harder than he used to look. His burns had scabbed over and scarred, leaving patches of skin that were of a different texture. Though Raph had healed somewhat from his chest injury, coughing less frequently, especially with a better flow of food and water entering his system; it was clear to Donnie that it was still somewhat painful to move around. He still moved slow, rigid and gruff, it made him look significantly older than he was.

Raph doesn't like to show it, but Donnie knows he's grieving. Of course both Don and Mike were too, but it seems especially fresh for Raph. It's from the way he slumps, the way he's desperately pushing himself to do feats no one expects him to do. At first glance, he seems like the one who had his shit together out of all of them, the one who seems unaffected by everything.

But when Donnie finally puts past and present side by side, it's jarring how much he's changed. It was a slow progression, one that no one could spot at the moment. It seemed so natural at the time, his unwavering stability. It gave Don and his brother something to latch onto when everything around them was crumbling to dust. But it was never blatantly obvious how much this had actually affected Raph.

Don and Mikey had done their time grieving. Even if they could never stop the pain, at least they've grieved. They've cried themselves to sleep some nights, woken up with rough startles and half-hidden screams on others. But they've had their time to sit and let the emotions flow over.

Raph just... has never gotten to do that. He'd always had to straighten himself up and move forward. But lately, that mask has been slipping, caught in a limbo between holding on and letting go.

He'd seen that look from Raph. That pained expression he made when he caught a glimpse of a box of cheerios back at the convenience store.

Leo's favorite cereal...

Raph held onto hope, hope that maybe they'll see their brother again. As the weeks stretched by, with no one to ever stumble upon the barn, that hope has been spreading thin. It's like grieving without a body. With no memento, nothing that bore evidence that this person lived. No news, no knowledge of what happened to this particular person, it's as if he fizzled out of thin air and just ceased to exist.

With Splinter, they've seen a body. They knew what happened to him, where his remains lie. They've made a grave in the backyard, a makeshift tomb put together by sticks and rope. Even if it wasn't real, they had buried him. They never got to do that with Leo.

Because they can't. Because doing so would mean accepting the fact that Leo was gone. And Donnie observed, it seems that Raph is beginning to move on. He had to move on, had to straighten up, had to move forward. Because they'll all die if he doesn't.

Wordlessly, Raph had slowly stepped up into the role of the leader. He didn't want to, but he knew he had to. Raph never wanted to be leader, even before when things were... different. He never wanted that responsibility, it was too much weight on his shoulders that he doubts he could bear. Donnie understood this as well, when he'd briefly been leader when Leo left for Central America. Which is why he's half glad that Raph decided to take that role, because Donnie knows he wouldn't be able to handle it himself.

No matter how devastating their current situation was, it was somewhat familiar. It was the three of them again, trying to live life with the absence of a brother looming over them. Only it's worse... way, way worse. Their reality is changing in ways they cannot prevent. Like watching an avalanche as it hurls towards you, and you're powerless to do anything.

Even now, Donnie can recall the times where he himself is changing. The fear grows in each time he allowed himself to laugh. Each time a painful memory became easier to push away. Each time he regarded Raphael as the "eldest" instead of an "older brother". He's changing and he hates it.

Change takes its course every time Mikey shows a glimpse of his old self. Every time he picks up his journal and draws. Every time he sprinkles seasoning onto his cooking.

But for Raphael, change was different. Because his change had not been easy to accept, as even Don and Mike weren't able to follow along. Raph grew distant, quiet. A hollow vessel of someone they used to know. Who desperately tried to pick up the broken pieces of themselves but was never able to put them back together. That fire, that rage, that burning passion that Donatello once knew, had even butt heads against at some point; It was all gone now, washed away, draining that which made him who he is, until Don was eventually staring into the eyes of a stranger.

He had changed, scarily so. Because he was someone else now. There were so many times where he'd sounded like someone else: a leader. He'd give out orders, the kind that put them where they needed to be. He'd tell them to prepare themselves for chores, announced when they needed to eat, benched them if they seemed exhausted; He'd tell them to stay put when he would go hunting, organize the work and assigned it to them, ordered them to sleep when they've stayed up. The Raph in the past wouldn't have done that before.

A few days ago, Donnie was particularly moody. Too preoccupied with something on his mind that, he'd let the deer escape from his trap. Though Raph was slightly annoyed, he had kept his cool for the most part. Hadn't blown up in the younger turtles's face, instead giving a few words of consolation and a brief lecture about staying focused during the next hunt.

Donnie wasn't having it at the time, too pissed off that he'd actually zoned off, essentially dooming his family from eating anything other than leftover rabbit soup from 2 days ago. That wasn't like him, he wasn't the type to lose focus or daze off. He was too busy thinking about his crops and how to tend to them that he didn't even see the deer that narrowly zoomed past him.

Raph's currently trying to sprinkle softer words of comfort, patting Donnie on the shoulder and playfully shoving him to lighten the mood. He didn't like to be patronized in times likes this. When he pat his shoulder once again, that's when it slipped out.

The room instantly grew silent. Mikey had dropped a plate when he heard it.

"Lay off'a me, Leo-"

The younger turtle clasped a hand to his mouth immediately, regret already washing over him before he could stop Raph from bolting out the door.

And now, he was here... sitting on a rock beside the river, with the turtle he'd unconsciously dropped all this baggage on. Yet he was still here, because he saw that his brother needed to be consoled.

Don was just so sick of himself. It seemed that nothing he did ever really contributed to anything. His crops were dying, he'd let their meal get away, and now he'd just dumped a weight on his brother that he can't even take back.

"I'm sorry." it slipped out, almost unintentionally, but it was no less genuine.

"Don, it's fine. We can keep hunting until ya get your greens bloomin'. Just hadn't gotten the technique down, you'll get there." Raph said, his back turned against Don, as he stabbed a fish with his spear before putting it into the bucket.

"No, Raph... That's not what I meant."

A few beats passed, "it's fine."

"No, it's not. It's not fine!"

Raph paused, turning to look at his brother, who had primarily stared at the ground. Donnie heard his spear being set down, as the oldest turtle sat on an adjacent rock. His hands were pressed against his knees, his popping veins meant that he was clutching tightly. He let out a shaky, heavy breath, his neck craning downwards to stare at the ground.

A few beats passed by before he finally spoke, "I know... you guys'd rather Leo be here than me."

Donnie instantly snapped back up, his brows furrowing as he processes the words he just said.

It hurt the same way as the words he'd said back at the convenience store.

"You're no use to us dead."

"Was no good to you guys alive, either."

He'd brushed it off then, he wish he didn't now. The words haunted him and mocked him in his face. It hurt so bad before, but now it hurt worse. Because now instead of mumbling it under his breath, he's confessing it to Donnie as if he's confessing a sin damnable to hell. It hurt to see how little his brother thinks of himself. But before Donnie could even retort, Raph continued.

"I swear if I could'a trade places with him, I would've." Donnie kept silent, "I know I ain't doing a good job..."

His hands were shaking, eyes shut tight to the point his scar was folding in on itself, "but I'm trying." his voice cracked, the words escaping his lips like it physically hurt.

"I'm not Leo," he said the next words with a sense of finality, "I could never be Leo. "

"Raph- I'm so-" Donnie throat tightens, it felt harder to breathe, "I'm sorry. I didn't. mean to- to say that."

"No. Don't-" Raph interjected.

It was silent, interrupted only by a periodic sniff from Donnie, as the sound of running water stretches by.

Raph lets out a sharp exhale, followed by a dry chuckle that had no humor behind it. Donnie heard his hands clench, gripping harder onto his knees.

"I was with Leo, when... when it happened."

Donnie's heart clenches, whiplashed by what Raph was saying.

"We were on our way back from a patrol, on my bike..." he exhales, " 'n' he pushed me outta the way."

Suddenly things started to click into place. Those burns... they were most likely road rash. Sustained by falling off a motorcycle and grinding across the pavement. Most injuries were at the left side of his body... because he had landed there. The cut on his face... it was clean, precise. Almost as if a blade had sliced through it. Held by someone who was frantic to push him away.

His rib injury, was either because of the crash... or it was because someone had kicked him full force in the gut. Whatever it was, Donnie paled at how obvious the signs were, yet how easy it was for him to overlook. The realization haunted him,  glass shattering by a piercing object of truth.

"I- I looked everywhere, Don. You gotta believe me," his voice broke in so many places, Don was astonished that he managed to croak out a coherent sentence, "I looked all night. 'N' I couldn't find him."

"But-" he gulped deeply, swallowing hard, "I had to go back to the lair, I had to. See... that you guys were okay." He's shaking, fingers twitching.

"And..." he starts, "and I found Splinter."

Donnie's face had been slick and wet, his eyes burning from tears he couldn't bother to hold back. His face scrunched up in agony to the point that he could feel its strain. His jaw clenched, and it ached.

"He. Told me. Th-that he was proud-" Raph cut himself off, an unrestrained whimper as he gulps down harder.

God. Oh God. The realization slowly dawns on Donnie that Raph had most likely watched him die. No son, no person, no turtle, should've ever had to witness that.

"Oh, Raph." Donnie clasped a hand over his mouth as he tried to bite a sob back.

"I couldn't save him. He-he was just. So weak. I didn't know what else to do." his hands were now clamping over the back of his head, holding it down to point towards the ground, "I had to leave 'im, I needed to find you two."

"God, Donnie, I couldn't do shit!" He draped a hand over his brow, leaving Donnie to see the scars left over from his crash. It was ugly, jagged and a different color from his normal skin. All Raph had gone through, Donnie couldn't even begin to unpack.

He wanted to say it wasn't his fault, that he did his best. That having him here was probably one of the only miracles they had in this hellhole. That he's done such a good job taking care of them. But all of them would've fell on deaf ears, would've made him feel pitied and patronized, then he wouldn't believe it at all.

"Raph... I'm sorry." Donnie said finally, hiccuping, "I didn't mean to say it."

Donnie hoped the message reached him. That he was sorry he ever gave him the idea that he wasn't wanted here. That what he just confessed about Leo and Splinter didn't matter to him. It didn't matter to him that he wasn't able to save any of them. What mattered was that he called Raph by someone else, and he needed to apologize.

Another wave of silence stretched over. Donnie could only hope that his brother was processing the words he said. When it had gone on long enough that he didn't think Raph would answer, his older brother finally snickered. There was no humor to it, it felt dry and pained. But there was a glimmer of that familiar fire, that glint in his eyes. For a second, Donnie saw the remnants of the old Raph, and was relieved to know that he was still in there. Somehow, someway, he was still in there.

"Don't worry about it." He retracted his hand from his brow, but he had deliberately avoided meeting his younger brother's gaze. In spite of this, his tone was genuine, maybe even somewhat playful. It seemed the message did reach.

Chapter Text

It was silent. On nights like these, Mikey found it terribly difficult to doze off. Despite living in a farm, and effectively, in the woodlands, the atmosphere had been eerily silent with only the rare chirps of crickets occupying the air. It hadn't been the first time where the orange-banded turtle felt unsettled by the quiet, the lack of anything other than the faint whispers of wind.  No sounds of movement, no signs of life. It had sounded too much like the world they left behind.

The youngest turtle quickly pushes the thought away. The bubbling anxiety a clear sign that he needed to get up, do something productive. It will be another sleepless night, and it won't be long until the adrenaline kicks in once more. He kicks his feet off the bed, a slight creak escaping the floorboards. Grabbing the pencil and notebook from the nightstand, he quietly makes his way to the bay window.

Initially, the turtles have gotten used to having each other in their sight at all times. Which made sense, it's hard not to stick together. The brothers would camp in the living room until it was morning, senses sharpened with absences quickly recognized. After witnessing what they had, they wordlessly stuck to each other's shells like glue. Mikey particularly clung unto Donnie for a lot of it. And Raph, well... they hadn't been as close as they used to be.

The orange-banded turtle gazes out towards the trees, the scenery only being briefly lit by the moonlight and wandering fireflies. Furrowing his brow ridges, he bites onto the end of the pencil before starting on the lined paper.

The tough exterior was something Mikey got used to about Raph, a disguise that barely held out its function because his little brother would always be able to see past it. Mikey was never intimidated nor scared to ask his hotheaded brother the rough and hard questions, even if those questions were met with slaps to the head or skull-aching noogies. Because Mikey was always able to see through him, to read between the glares and insults. He knew that the stoic demeanor was just all an act to hide away from things. Maybe this was why Mikey felt the safest with him compared to the others.

Not that he didn't feel safe with the others at all, but with Raphael it was different. Perhaps he felt a little pride in knowing that despite the constant roughhousing, the insults, the overall annoyance Raph harbored in the younger turtle's presence; Mikey was the only one who was able to do those things with him. Sure, Raph would shove his face away whenever he got too close, but he also wouldn't pull away when Mikey would smother him into a bear hug. He'd roll his eyes, attempt to break free, of course. But that was just one of the many things Raph does. In the end, Mikey still got his bear hug.

Sure, Raph would call him a dumbass to his face. But Raph was always the one to stick up for his shell whenever his other brothers would scold him too hard, even if they were right. The red banded turtle had always been overly protective of him, and to that extent, maybe even had a soft spot for the youngest brother. Raph was undoubtedly a key player in Mikey's comparatively spoiled upbringing.

But for the longest time, it just felt like it was him and Raph against the world. Maybe that's why his older brother was so adamant about shielding him from everything, which included their other brothers. Being the youngest, he was seen as the trouble-maker for the longest time. Subconsciously, Raph must've sympathized with him to some degree, as the turtle with the most destructive temper. It was solidarity, it was camaraderie. It was understanding what it felt like to be seen as a problem.

He finishes the crude sketch, taking time to get the scale of the trees and logs correctly. The sky was roughly blocked in with light strokes, leaving the moon unshaded for contrast. Once he was happy with the way it looked, he moves his pencil to the mountains, putting just a bit more pressure than before.

Once they've settled into the barn, each of them naturally grew more independent of each other. Wordlessly, they've claimed a corner of the barn to be their own. For Donatello, it was the library which conveniently had a comfortable couch to lie on. For Mikey, it was April's old room, which was filled to the brim with pictures and drawings of horses. The orange banded turtle found it to be a comforting sight, though he would not admit that out loud.

Raph however, took a claim over the garage, where he often prepared his kills after bringing them home. He had quietly carried a mattress over, one that he found sitting in the shed, and had been sleeping on it ever since. It was clear to both Mike and Donnie that this was a deliberate choice for him to keep watch at night.

Mikey prided himself on being able to read Raph like a book. But after... that day. The youngest turtle finds that he is not able to do that anymore. It's as if they were no longer seeing each other at the same level like they used to before. The red clad turtle being leader certainly had something to do with it, but not in a way most would think. Despite the power dynamics in which a leader-follower relationship might suggest, it never felt that way. It's as if Raph held both he and Donnie up on a pedestal, saw them as something to protect, something to sacrifice for.

Which was not far from how he viewed them before, as Raph had always been obsessively protective over any of his brothers, which included... Leo. But now, it seemed as though those sacrifices carry a daunting weight over it, a weight so significantly earth shattering. It seemed as though the lengths that Raph will go to for them is now definitively endless. The thought terrifies Mikey to the core.

Raph had become someone else, a leader that carried too many of the world's weight on his back. Not because he needed to bear the burden, but more so because he craved the way his knees trembled under it. With each passing day, it seemed as though he's watching his brother slink away into nothingness, and soon Raphael would be completely gone, replaced by a soulless statue.

He can't read Raphael like he used to, because Raphael is not even there anymore.

Mikey feared that the glimpses of the old Raphael would merely be a trick of the light. Or rather, manufactured and artificial. That whatever he saw in those glimmering amber eyes were just a shell of something else. Someone who was no longer his comrade, nor a brother who understood him the way the others couldn't.

Don understood it now, in a way he wouldn't have in any other circumstances. Silently, they've gravitated towards each other, finding comfort in the fact that, yes, they were both fuck-ups. But more so, they were bonded by the growing fear, that perhaps they've lost more than they'd thought. That maybe they've lost Raphael, too.

That the brother who fought off their monsters, was now fighting off a cosmic creature of his own. And Mikey's scared. Scared that he'll never get back to those nights where he was allowed to annoy Raph to no end, to poke and prod for him to tell Mikey his Nightwatcher stories, to whine and pout to guilt him into taking Mikey on a bike ride. All things that were typical sibling behavior that now seemed too risky to do with Raph. As if doing so would quickly shatter what's left of his big brother.

The lines on his paper grew unsteady, the tip of his pencil trembling with his fingers turning white from his grip on it. The orange banded turtle does a few shakes of his wrist, before leaning back to inspect his work more clearly. The night sky was shaded in increasingly uneven strokes, with some parts of the paper concaving down. He must've pushed too hard on the pencil.

Just then, a crash sounds off from downstairs. It was quiet enough not to wake anyone, but it was enough to unsettle the orange banded turtle into action. Still having his notebook in hand, he zooms downstairs, being as quiet as he could.

He hears huffing to where the garage was supposed to be, then proceeded to jog over to it.

Mikey dashes over, the door swinging ajar after pushing it open. Panting sounds off in the garage, broken glass splayed out on the floor, near the wall where the younger turtle assumes the impact was.

His brother stood stiff across from him, fist clenched at his sides. His breathing, labored, short and fast. He was staring at the same mess on the floor with wide-eyes, his mask messily strewn about on the mattress he was sleeping on.

Looking back down on the broken object, Mikey could pick apart the little decorative flowers on the smooth pieces, and immediately deduces that this must've been one of the antique plates that the O'Neils left displayed on the wall, where it was collecting dust from lack of use.

Panting echoes in the room, and it seemed that Raphael hadn't even registered his presence yet. His eyes glazed red, still zeroing in on the floor.

"April's gonna kill you, man," Mikey mumbles, even he admits that it was senseless, especially at a time like this.

It's this that finally snaps Raphael out of his daze, darting his eyes over to the younger turtle, confusion painting his features. He wrinkles his nose at how disjointed the sentence was, so much so that he can't help but let out a short laugh, almost in surprise.

The sound felt so foreign, it seems like a lifetime since he heard it. It almost startles Mikey, but it was warm and welcoming.

With this, Mikey lets out a laugh out as well. After a few beats, Raphael joins along, shaking his head the same way he used to do with Mikey's nonsensical doings.

"You idiot..." his brother chuckles out, a familiar lilt to his voice that Mikey admits he missed so dearly.

They eventually marinated in silence as they cleaned the pieces off the floor. Surprisingly, Raphael lets the other do more of the work, which Mikey was secretly happy about.

They've placed the remnants of the plate in a discarded box found in one of the corners of the garage. It just didn't seem right to throw it away, even though at this point, it didn't make sense keeping the remains. The comment Mikey made looming over both their heads, even when it was unlikely to even happen.

Mikey pulled the garage door open, sensing that it would help the mood. Raphael doesn't stop him.

They sat on Raph's beaten up mattress on the floor, gazing out the wilderness beyond the garage. The silence washes over them, with periodic chirps and whistles of wind taking over.

They don't speak, merely gazing out on the horizon with the sun lazily peeking out from behind the mountains and trees. They've never done this before. Never sat in silence without the restlessness of trying to fill it. For once that need was not there, nor did they even want it to. The silence was almost comforting for the two of them, a silent acknowledgement of each other's presence.

It was Mikey who eventually broke the silence, scratching behind his neck before speaking, "So... what was that about?"

It took a few more seconds of silence before Raph finally decided to answer, "bad dream, I guess." He runs a hand over his maskless face, pinching at the space between his eyes, before allowing his hand to drop at his side.

"You alright?" Mikey asks once more, failing to hide the anxiousness in his voice, "you've... you're a lil jumpy lately."

The younger turtle mentally facepalms, realizing now that the question was too forward for someone like Raph. He braces himself for the answer, fists clenched at the mattress below him.

He wearily glances at his older brother, his scarred eye facing Mikey, as he spots all the ways his skin curled and gashed over his face. But amongst the rough and ugly in his brother's features, Mikey finds his eyes, a tenderness to the way his amber pupils jittered to and fro the scenery. His eyes were flushed pink, either due to the lack of sleep, or something else. But he has never seen his brother so... small before.

"That night... I..." He started.

Raph clears his throat.

"I lost Leo." He finally said.

They fall into silence once more. The weight of the atmosphere nearly rendered the orange banded turtle breathless.

"I already told Don. I needed to tell you too.  "

...

... He wasn't talking about his dream, wasn't he?

Mikey finds that his eyes began to moisten, his throat tightening against his will. He brings a hand up to cover his mouth, raggedly breathing through his nose.

He didn't dare look at Raph, choosing instead to focus on the rising sun amongst the trees.

It took a couple beats more before Raph continued, detailing all the events that happened that day in New York. From how he and Leo got separated, to finding Splinter, to finding Don and Mikey.

Raph remained unmoving. His voice gliding along Mikey's ears like river to a bank. The periodic grits and strain in his brother's voice does not go unnoticed.

There was a moment of silence, with Mikey's sporadic sniffles breaking it. Raph stayed quiet, though the strain on his knuckles left pops echoing in the air.

Then, Mikey lets out a brief hiccuping laugh. He hunched over, pressing his palms against his eyes. Even with this new Raphael, Mikey's overjoyed to find that he can still read him crystal clear.

Though his grimacing smile quickly fades, replaced by a scowl. Because God, did it hurt. His insides felt raw and exposed, his jaw aching from how hard he'd clenched his teeth.

Mikey hated to admit it, but he still held out hope. That maybe Leo had just lost his way in the midst of a blast, or that coincidences led them to narrowly missing each other, or that Leo had just been with Casey and April. But now, he's not so sure.

It hurt worse to hope than to not hope at all. That holding onto this fever dream was even more agonizing than crying at a grave.

His palms were digging into his eye sockets enough to make him dizzy. So he lets up, peeling his puffy eyes open to daringly glance towards his brother's direction.

The first to catch his eye were his hands, knuckles bruised and scabbed over, cuts littering over his three-fingered hands. He had his hands clasped together, squeezing so intensely that it was beginning to shake, veins popping out.

Mikey's gaze traces along Raph's tensing arms, then eventually reaching his brother, who had bowed his head down with his eyes screwed shut. The harsh lines on his forehead, following his furrowed brows were beginning to turn a pinkish hue. And all the orange-banded turtle wanted to do was reach over and smoothen the skin.

Raph may be keeping his composure for now, but it was not from indifference, rather it was experience. He'd had this talk before, Mikey always had an inkling when his two brothers returned with solemn faces and reddened eyes.

Mikey did not know what they talked about that day, but he'd have half a mind to know that prodding Raph about it would just make things worse. He did not know whether or not it ended with more pain or relief. But one thing he was certain of, was that in his brother's eyes, there was still regret, anguish, anger... guilt. Albeit shrouded behind reassuring nods and words.

He is still able to read his brother, although now he wished he didn't.

Because Michelangelo did not know how to make it better.

But he needed to try.

Mikey hesitates, but he reaches forward and places a hand on his brother's shoulder. He feels the heat radiating off of his muscles, the way it spasms and twitches from how tense he really was. The trembling didn't stop, but neither did Mikey.

Mikey knows that Raph does not take kindly to mushy talk.

"You did what you could, Raph."

That maybe a sprinkle of false hope is the last thing any of them need right now. But he decided, perhaps right now, it was alright.

"We'll find him," he says with a certain finality, forcing the end of his lips to a slight smile, "we just need'ta..." he sniffles, "just keep our heads up."

Mikey turns towards Raphael, whose gaze remains fixated on the nearby trees. A bird whistles along with the rustle of wind. Mikey spots his brother's eyes, glistening with a vulnerable expression, authentically unhardened– so unlike the Raph he knew.

The red banded turtle continues to stare towards the horizon, unmoving and silent. And for a second, Mikey wondered if he had said the wrong thing.

"Raph-"

"Mike..." he cuts him off, a small sigh leaving his lips. Raphael shuffles in his place, briefly glancing at Mikey, gauging his expression, before staring back out into the wilderness.

A tightness twists itself in Mikey's stomach, as he patiently awaits his brother's response.

There's conflict in his eyes, despite how hard he tried to hide it, Mikey could see through it. His brother did not know what to do. And the mere uncertainty painting his features was enough to send Mikey over the edge.

"Raph," he starts instead, "you did what you could," he states again, slowing down to allow the words to marinate.

"Mikey," he lets out a harsh breath, "you guys don't get it."

The younger turtle waits once again for his brother to elaborate, leaning forward to look up at him more clearly. The knots in Raph's brows begin to knit together even more so, and Mikey sees it clear as day.

Fear. Confusion.

It reminded Mikey of a simpler time, when Raph allowed himself to have that expression. When Raph allowed himself to be scared, to be vulnerable, to be a child. Until real danger came, and he was immediately determined to be scarier than what scared him. If it meant keeping his brothers safe, them he'd do it without a second thought.

But this was fear beyond anything they'd faced. And Raphael was terrified.

"You... you and Don, act like I ain't-" he pauses, scrambling to find words, "fucking. Both of ya. Stop looking at me like that, I-"

There's agitation in his voice, his fingers curling and uncurling sporadically.

"I should'a been under that rubble. It was him or me," He continues with a tremor in his voice," and... I'm here."

The disappointment in Raphael's voice does not escape Mikey's notice. And the younger turtle visibly winces, face scrunching up into a grimace with a force threatening to choke him.

He's here . His big brother was here . And it hurts to know that Raph himself did not value that.

Mikey's hands start to tremble, as he reaches towards the other turtle. A daunting realization overwhelms him, shaking him to his core. Knowing just how close he was to losing Raphael, too.

The older turtle flinches when Mikey wraps his arms around him, locking him in place with Raph's forearms stiffly jutting out. Mikey feels the tensing of his brother's muscles, the way his fingers curled and uncurled themselves as it flexed.

An ugly yelp tore itself from Mikey's throat, as he hung onto Raphael tighter. Feeling the way his brother's body heat radiates off of him, the sturdiness in his form. The labored breathing that indicated he was here . Raphael is here .

Mikey forces his shaking to subdue, just enough to be certain that his next words wouldn't be garbled in hiccups. He buries half his face into his brother's shoulder, wanting to feel him.

"You're alive," he finally lets out, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips as he said so.

The words seemed to bounce off the walls in the garage, with the sounds of nature swelling up in a symphony. At that moment, time seemed to stop, and it was just him and his brother.

Him, and his brother, together. Alive .

"Mike-" his voice sounded so broken, his arms tensing even more with his knuckles turning white from clenched fists. Mikey does not let go.

"We'll find him," Mikey says instead, his tears soaking the skin against his cheeks, "we'll find him."

For a while, none of them said anything, making their trembling much more prominent. That was until Raph took a sharp breath in, grimacing as he bows his head down to gaze at Mikey.

"Do you really believe that?" His eyes were red, glistening with the light from the open garage. It was fear, and yet it seemed... hopeful.

It seemed especially cruel to grant Raph this small glint of light, especially now with his brother practically searching his eyes for permission to seek that light. That Mikey would even hurt himself just by allowing this false hope to fester.

But that's the thing, it wasn't false hope. The reason why Mikey'd had such a hard time moving on was because deep down, he felt it.

Down in his stomach, he knew Leo was alive.

They all felt it. Even when it seemed practically idiotic. It was the same gut feeling he'd had that saved their shells when training did not suffice.

"Yeah," he starts, "yeah, I do," He said it, a sort of certainty he'd only felt with one hundred percent confidence, "we'll find him."

And with that, Raph seemed to soften. He lets out a quick exhale out before shuffling to place a shaky hand onto Mikey's arm.

The younger turtle wasn't completely sure if Raph had fully digested everything he said, but one thing was for certain– he trusted Mikey's gut. And it seemed that that was all he needed, at least for now.

They continue to watch the sunrise, with the youngest turtle still refusing to let go. But Raph didn't seem to mind as much. They stayed that way until it was eventually time to do their daily chores.

They leave the garage when they hear rummaging somewhere in the kitchen. Raph stands up with a crackle in his bones as he extends a hand to his baby brother. Mikey gladly takes it.

But before they could depart to their respective areas of the house, Mikey feels a hand briefly ruffling his head. He hears Raphael chuckle before he eventually disappeared into the doorway.

Mikey could not resist another tear escaping his eye, as he quickly wipes at it. He feels the ends of his lips unintentionally quirk up, before he too decided to exit the garage and proceed towards the kitchen.

~~~

Raphael's sudden change in demeanor did not escape Donnie's notice. It had been days since his brother's talk with Mikey, and he'd been acting strange since then.

Donnie had been awake since that plate broke, but went back to the library once he realized Raph and Mikey were talking. Knowing that they'd most likely talked about that night kept Donnie awake, ready to spring into action if need be.

But the sun rose up with Donnie having not a clue of where they all are now. They both walked out that garage with an unidentifiable aura, both seeming fragile to the touch.

But Raphael smiled, and Donnie doesn't remember the last time he saw that. But it did not comfort him the way he thought it would.

Since that talk, Raphael had been out the barn, hunting non-stop. He'd stoped taking his brothers with him altogether, opting instead to go alone for hours at a time.

Both Don and Mike were obviously unsettled by this strange development. They'd put a halt to it if it weren't for the determined expression on Raph's face. It didn't seem anxious, but motivated. Perhaps he just needed time alone.

Donnie was not naïve. No matter how much he or Mikey would try to convince Raph on how much he was wanted here, he knows it takes time, especially for someone like Raph. Someone who ran with guilt in his heart like a friend.

Raphael may be trying to appease them with glimpses of the old Raph, but he can't fool them. Not really.

Raph's been smiling more, but Donnie was not sure if he truly believes it. It seemed... reassuring, but almost performative. Whatever it was, the sorrow in his eyes never left.

But now it was accompanied by something else– purpose.

On the fifth day since that talk, Donnie awoke to Mikey frantically jostling his entire body. He hears his younger brother scream his name, a horror in his voice that haunted him. The purple-banded turtle suddenly finds it hard to breathe.

His brother led him downstairs, the garage door closed shut. The room was filled with hunted meat, fresh enough that it was still somewhat bloody. Two whole deers, skinned and prepped for cooking; Along with a couple of rabbits stacked neatly into pile.

The two turtles blasted the garage door open, rushing towards the side of the barn.

The van was gone.

The two of them rush back to the garage, scrambling to find clues of where their brother might've run off to.

They find a scrap piece of paper, tucked neatly underneath one of the rabbit's foot. It was a torn piece from an old newspaper, the pages yellowed with age, the words faded. A message was written onto a vacant part of the paper.

Donnie felt a scream tore away from deep within him. Watching Mikey pace around in a panic did not help the bile in his throat subside.

Donatello lets the piece of paper flutter onto the ground, as he makes way to the side of the barn, last night's dinner escaping his lips. Mikey rushes to rub circles at his shell.

The paper lands itself onto the beaten up mattress on the floor, the words read,

"Don't follow me."

Chapter Text

While chapter 4 is underway, I thought y'all might like to see some early concepts for this story.

So first in this showcase: the turtles' designs!!!

I wanted the turtles to have notably different features and not just copy-pasted turtle designs. I've mentioned before this story takes place in the 2007 verse, and by extension, part of the 90s movie verse, too. But anyway, that was mostly because I really like the tone and feel of the 2007 movie, as well as the designs they had for the turtles. I'd say it teeters on being realistic and stylistic at the same time, which I feel had the best balance in design out of all the other media types. But I also incorporated some design aspects from the 2012 cartoon series, like Donnie's tooth gap (you'll see it in the other images), as well as Mikey's round face and lil bunny ear tails for the ends of his mask. (Giving Donnie goggles just felt right to me, plus it's also inspired by the Bay movies' design)

Lmao also, silly idea, Leo's ghost haunting Raph for the rest of the story MWAHAHAHHA But regarding their design, they lean more towards the 2007 verse. I like the idea of having Leo and Raph look similar, save for some small differences. It gives them this sort of parallel, or foil?? (Wow!! narrative terms!!) With their only differences being Leo is rounder, and have softer features, but look sturdier than Don and Mikey; though he is definitely lankier than Raph. Making him look quicker, and leaning more towards technique rather than brute strength. Raph on the other hand, is built with a lot of hard edges, bulkier and sturdier than the rest of the turtles. He almost looks like a boulder or shield, which I feel describes his personality down to a T. 

here's a lil rendered version of Raph's design (can you tell he's my favorite? hehe), Raph being emotionally constipated as well as being an emotional ticking time bomb just felt right to me. I've also incorporated his infamous eye scar!!! Leo's mark UwU 

Ok now for older concepts of the story!! Here's an old comic that sort of sparked the creation of this story!

Yes, Leo initially was supposed to be together with them, as well as Casey and April. "BUT WON'T THAT BE BORING???" I ask myself. And I decided, "yes, yes it would be boring." WHY NOT ADD SOME SPICE???? 

Ok but at first, I really like the idea of Leo trying to keep everyone together, whilst Raph was just slowly losing his sanity. Because perhaps the shift from Leo and Raph butting heads to Raph wanting comfort from his big bro would be really ouchie in the heart. But I thought, although it is a pretty dire circumstance, I don't think Raph would openly admit how much he really wants to be comforted by his brother. SO WHY NOT RAISE THE STAKES??? Boom!!! Missing/ killed in action Leo!! Which led me to the next comic:

(the text is Donnie's monologue) 

YEAH! Chapter 2 was already realized before chapter 1. Raph being leader was a way for him to step into Leo's shoes. Again, paralleling the two, which was very apparent when both Don and Mikey regarded how much Raph was becoming like Leo. Kind of ironic, since the whole thing with Raph's arc was like "I don't wanna be like that prissy fuck, Leo", even when inside he really looked up to him. But now that he is in Leo's place, it's the last thing he ever wants to be, but it's mostly because he feels unworthy. AND HERE WE CAN REALLY SHOEHORN THE IDEA OF RAPH MISSING HIS BIG BROTHER AND JUST WANTS TO BE COMFORTED!! But I think it was also really nice to sort of create a parallel between the 3 turtles now, and to how it was when Leo was in North America. Both in sort of similar scenarios, only there's a daunting weight to their dynamics now. And yes!! Initially, Raph was supposed to have Leo's katanas, as some sort of symbolism of passing down the mantle. I might reuse this story idea in the future chapters, who knows??? 

Now onto the last part of this bonus section: the conception of chapter 3!!!

Chapter 3 was conceptualized alongside chapter 1 and 2. (Yes I'm sorry, the big 2-year-gap in updating seems so unfair now lmao). But chapter 3 was originally supposed to be about Mikey helping Raph through his night terrors. And the chapter was initially supposed to include Raph's perspective on everything, but I decided to keep it strictly to Mikey for now. As more ideas for Raph's inner dialogue start coming in, I felt that it would be right to give it its own chapter. Plus Mikey needs screen time, he is baby. But aside from that, out of all the possible duos in the team, Raph and Mikey are my absolute favorite. I took inspo from a lot of different fanfic authors. The idea of Raph being softer to Mikey compared to how he is with the others just made sense to me, (with the added bonus of Donnie wanting the same treatment but not wanting to admit it). Raph being a literal Mikey apologist, even against Don and Leo just made sense to me. He is just overly protective over the youngest brother, and Mikey takes full advantage of that. But with this chapter, everything is flipped, and it's Mikey being protective over Raph instead. As some sort of a "giving back" gesture. 

BUT YES THAT IS ALL FOR THIS BONUS CHAPTER!! Hopefully chapter 4 won't be long and we can finally get to the meatier part of the story!! Hope this tiny bonus chapter just gives more depth to what's already on paper. But thank you all to those who really liked my fic and continue to support me despite the posting sched!! You all help keep this story alive!!

- Sincerely, the author :DDD

Chapter Text

The city lights were the dimmest this time of night. A peaceful lull of passing cars without the disturbance of incessant honkings. It was late, quiet. But nonetheless fully active, alive. It's the best window for patrols.

Things were never the same after Leo's return from Central America. The pieces were there for them to put back together. But for Raph and Leo, the corners frayed and never really fit the same way. The fight against Winters only served to highlight this growing distance. Even when they reconciled after their emotions-filled duel, the damage of a two-year absence won't easily be patched. And Leo knows that. At least Raphael hopes he does. Because there was no way Leo can expect to be all buddy-buddy with him without addressing that.

The growing distance may be up for everyone's notice, but it only fueled the two eldest brothers' need to fill the gap.

And so, they set out for a night of crime fighting. Just the two of them. Just like before. Just like back when Don and Mike were too young to fight, and it was just Raph and Leo against the world.

Raph and Leo, the deliverers of justice.

Raph and Leo, the protectors of their family.

Raph and Leo, the brothers who, for a time in their lives, knew each other more than anyone else.

Sometimes, Raph would glance at his older brother through the sheen of his Nightwatcher helmet and see a stranger. As Leo pounds the head of another hooligan with the back of his katana, it only solidifies to Raph that this is not the brother he once knew.

He's not the Leo who goofed up, who allowed himself to make mistakes. This is not the Leo who whined when Raph would make fun of him, or cry at Mufasa's death in the Lion King. This Leo was refined, precise...

Fearless.

And Raph does not know this Leo at all.

But tonight, maybe... just maybe. He'll start to know him once again.

Raphael was carefully peeling away the top of his armored suit, which was slashed above his left shoulder. He experimentally circles his shoulder around, testing its mobility.

He hears Leo take down the last of the punks they were dealing with, and hears the clunk of a chain, which Raphael assumes he used to restrain him and dangle him off a street light. He hears the other turtle inch closer to where he was on the ledge. Raph does his best to ignore the eyes on his shell.

"Are you hurt?" Leo prods with the tenderness of a mother. The younger turtle suppresses a wince, hating how even the way he spoke was refined.

"I'm good," Raph dismisses, a gruffness leaving his lips unintentionally. He casually cranes his neck at the damage on his shoulder, poking at it to gauge its rate of bleeding.

"Let me take a look at it," Raph feels an arm on his shoulder, and he instantly jerks away from it.

"Lay off, it's just a scratch." He didn't mean to yell, didn't mean to be hostile. The hurt creeping up to Leo's eyes prompted him to soften up, a weight in his gut.

He sighs, shaking his head with shut eyes. He settles back down and exposes his shoulder towards his brother, "sorry."

"It's... fine," Leo lures himself down to sit beside Raphael, their feet dangling off the edge of the building. He turns towards the injured shoulder, his gaze shifting to Raph.

"Can I take a look?" He asks this time, causing Raphael's insides to twist even more.

"Do whatever you want," he says it with as much nonchalance as he could, but peels off the rest of his suit for better access.

Leo wastes no time planting his hand on the edge of the gash, while the other searches through their duffel bag for first aid supplies. He grabs a wad of gauze, then immediately presses it onto his wound.

Raph suppresses the urge to hiss, letting out a sharp breath instead. He hears Leo huff, and he instantly snaps his gaze to find the beginnings of a smile creeping up his lips.

The younger turtle watches him in confusion, which only made Leo break into a soft chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

The blue banded turtle tries to regain a bit of composure, "nothing, it's just-"

"I guess even 'the Fearless Nightwatcher' winces at boo-boos, too," he says, the smile reaching his eyes.

"Wh- shut up," but Raph feels the ends of his lips quirk up regardless, "plus that's your title, Fearless."

"Still have no idea where you got that from," with his right hand still on the now soaked gauze pad, he reaches over once more for the duffle bag, pulling out new pieces of cutton pads to wipe at the drizzle on Raph's shoulder.

"It just made sense for someone like 'Casper of the Amazon'," he shoots Leo a smug look, as he watches his brother feign hurt.

"It's 'Ghost of the Jungle'."

"Not that big a difference."

"Nuh uh, it makes all the difference."

"It's still as dorky as it sounds."

"Well fuck me, blame the villagers for being so good with names!" Leo lets out a bark of laughter, and Raph could not restrain himself from joining in.

He feels a little tingle in his chest, that Raph recognizes from a different time. And it almost hurt to realize how long it's been since they shared a laugh together.

It wasn't long before their laughter eventually dies down, and Raph already misses the sensation in his chest.

"Why didn't you come back?"

Raphael feels a piece of medical tape being pressed onto his skin, as Leo reclines back, a soft breath leaving through his nose. The blue banded turtle fiddles with the ends of the tape once more, running his finger along the top to secure it, deliberately avoiding his younger brother's eyes.

The red banded turtle kept his gaze onto Leo, whose brows turned up accompanied by softened eyes.

"I- I don't know, Raph," he says honestly, wiping off the last bits of red on Raph's bicep, "I just- I couldn't face you all."

The sentence was over, but Raphael remains silent, waiting. Leo takes this as a clue to continue.

"I wasn't ready, I needed to be a better leader," he lets go off Raph and retreats to his own side, his gaze drifting off to the city lights instead, "then the days turns to weeks... and the weeks turned to months, then eventually... I've been gone for 2 years."

Raphael continues to stare up at him, watching his brother's eyes follow the passing cars over a distant highway.

"If it wasn't for April, I honestly would've stayed there longer," he admits, his voice falling silent towards the end.

One of the street lights flicker on and off, before another car zooms by silently. A stray cat hops down from a window sill to gnaw at a pile of discarded pasta.

"A 'better leader', Leo?" Raphael turns his body towards his brother, who tensed at question.

The older turtle sighs, turning his head away from Raph to look up at the Empire State.

"I nearly lost you, Raph."

Oh. So that's what this was about.

"I never blamed you for it."

"I know."

But it didn't seem like he believed it.

"That day, in April's apartment," Leo continues, "was the scariest day of my life."

Raph doesn't remember much from that day, only that he briefly got into a fight with Leo and was promptly ambushed afterwards. He remembers being thrown through the skylight, then waking up apparently a week or so later.

"Why are you telling me this?"

The need to look away took over him, so Raphael focuses his gaze on the alleyway below him instead. His metal-covered legs, thanks to his Nightwatcher suit, dangled over the edge. His elbows rested on his knees, the fire escape never looked so enticing.

"Because I want you to know I'm sorry."

It was Leo's turn to look at him now, and it only served to make Raph slink away further.

"Sorry that I wasn't better, that I wasn't- the leader you needed me to be."

Raph never blamed anyone for that day, much less Leo. He may be stubborn, but he's man enough to realize that all that crap was his own doing.

"Hell! Even after those two years, I still found you passed out on April's carpet from a fight with some ancient statues."

God, he really wants this to stop. All this pitying, self-deprecation. Raph wasn't mad at Leo for any of that. But his brother is making it out as if he was the one who put Raph in a comatose.

It was here that Raphael realized: Leo wasn't fearless, refined, nor one without mistake. No, he's fearless because of his fear of making mistakes. He's refined because he's terrified that a moment of weakness, a small lapse in judgement were what caused mistakes that led to Raph being beaten nearly half to death.

But Raphael wasn't looking for someone who always knew what to do. He never wanted Leo to throw his life away being the Messiah of jiu-jitsu. He never expected him to be perfect. All he wanted was Leo.

"I never wanted you to be a better leader, Leo."

Leo, in his purest form.

"I just wanted my brother."

The words seemed to knock the wind out of both of them. A quiet honk of a car sounds off from a distant street. Despite being the dimmest time of the city, you still get a hefty taste of New York's iconic scenery. It was beautiful, breathing, and alive.

"Oh," Leo says it airily, "Oh, I see."

Raphael could practically feel the smile on his brother's lips. And the tingle in his chest was instantly back.

"Do you think we can... start over?" Leo asked, and he sounded childlike.

Raphael hasn't fully forgiven Leo for leaving for so long. But one look at his brother, and he realized that Leo knows that, too. Leo knows he's not forgiven, but despite this, he's willing to make up for it.

Anything to get what they had before back again.

And Raph decides that that was worth  everything in the world.

But before Raph gets to say anything, a rumble shook the earth before them. The vibrations rattled the building, with clothing lines attached to it starting to quiver. The deep howl of the ground continues to sound off, leading to a burst of white, yellow, and red.

A cloud of dark smoke engulfed the midnight air, blocking the light from nearby buildings. Leaving only the red hell that looks to be coming from the general direction of their lair.

Leo looks at Raph, and there's horror in his eyes. An animalistic instinct took over the both of them, an urge to claw and tear through anything, driven by this inherent need to defend, protect. Suddenly, the need to stay cloaked by the darkness was no longer there.

Raphael abandons his suit, his helmet lay idly beside their duffel bag. He bounces off a wall to land on the ground, rummaging through the scrap pieces of metal roof that he used to hide his motorbike.

Leo was not far behind, planting himself on the passenger seat right after Raph, who zoomed away before Leo was even properly situated.

The lights streaked around them from how fast they were going, blurring the scenery before them. Only one thing remained clear, the red cloud.

Raph hears sirens around him, but he doubts it was due to their speeding. He hears people scream, people scrambling to get away. But he knows it's not because of their mutant genetics.

Leo unsheathes his katanas, ready to cut through any obstacle in their way. Raph's grip on the handles grew tighter, fearing that letting go for even a second would delay their pursuit.

Raphael sees white first. Another rumble sounds off from the pavement. But this time, bigger, louder, rattling their very bones. It shook a nearby building as they rode along the highway.

And Raphael sees it, almost in slow motion. The building snapping in two, teetering over them as they go under. Falling rubble littered their path, the road ahead of them clear and spacious.

A growing shadow looms over their bike, and it fully drenches them in darkness.

He feels Leo tip backwards, and Raphael risks a glance behind him. Leo was crouched onto his legs, his katanas in his hands.

They locked eyes. Raph can see a world of hurt in his gaze, but there was also hope. It's as if Leo's eyes had a language of his own, and Raph somehow understood everything.

There were sprinkles of reassurance, and more of apologies. An aura radiated from his very being, something that seemed so clear to the red banded turtle.

Right now, Raphael was looking at a leader, but at the core of if all, it was still his brother. His brother who goofed up, and cried when he felt sorrow. Who allowed himself to hurt for two years because he himself cannot forgive his mistakes. Someone who feared for the wellbeing of his brothers and would do anything to protect them.

The younger turtle feels a tingle in his chest, but it felt like poison in his lungs.

Leo gave a nod, and he understood the message:

Keep them safe.

Raphael feels his own face contort, before a force to his shell left him propelling forward. Through the haze of the stretching scenery around him, he registered the weightlessness of their vessel, and the wetness of his eye.

There was light once more, as the shadow failed to catch up to him. A cacophony of crashing metal overwhelms his senses, along with a burning sensation overtaking his left side.

Raphael was bombarded by everything, then suddenly, nothing at all.

He feels himself twitch, then he was instantly awake. He's gotten better at waking up to the same dream. There was a defining numbness in his body, but a dull ache ran course through his veins.

He needed to get up again.

He rises from the mattress he slept on with a series of cracks sounding off from his bones. Through the slits of the garage door, Raph deduces that it was barely sunrise.

He rinces his face with cool water, before looking up at the bathroom mirror.

He notices red eyes first. Then through the blur, a silhouette in the shape of someone distantly familiar. He trains his eyes to his face, maskless with a pinkish scar over his left eye, and he does not see Raphael .

He repressed the urge to quickly look away, and allows himself to really observe his form in its entirety. Hunger struck his previously bigger frame down to something leaner. And he pales at the striking resemblance to someone else.

There's electricity in his fingers, and he feels his form spasming relentlessly. So he shuts the door, and leaves without dwelling.

The red banded turtle took note of their steadily decreasing ration of food, and mentally reminds himself to prepare for another hunt.

His younger brother was in the fields once more, the ends of his purple mask fluttering along the wind. Another series of decaying roots were clenched within his hands.

So the older turtle offers to take him along on the hunt for more food, hoping to raise his little brother's spirits.

When Donnie misses the shot. He lets a sliver of his anger out without restraint, and mentally face-palms at how careless he was to let it slip through.

So he tries to make up for it with fluttery words or reassurance. It was not his strong suit, but he needed to be better at it anyway. It's what his older brother would do.

And he's caught red handed. Donnie sees right through him, and his worst fears come to light. His brother calls him by another name, and it's the last person he ever wants to be.

He's out once more, determined to bring home food. He drove a spear through a rabbit, and it starts desperately clawing at the earth for survival. Its legs kicked, and its entire body wiggled with the spear through its stomach. It looked at the red banded turtle with pleading eyes, horror-filled and glossy against the sun. But despite this, there was a sense of trust in its feral gaze, and it closed its eyes with the certainty.

It reminded him of his father.

He retracted the spear and drove it to the rabbit's head. The suffering almost immediately left its body.

He visited his father that day. They've planted his grave under the apple tree, hoping it'll lead him to some sort of Eden above. A makeshift cross stuck out from beside the tree roots, and his father's name was carved into the grain.

The red banded turtle does not say anything. Believing that his father will sense everything anyway, he was always like that when he was still alive. The quiet around the grave was alluring, and he struggles to break himself free from its comfort. But he eventually sets back to the farm with the rabbit when he felt he overstayed his welcome.

The next day, the red banded turtle woke up with a jolt. The dream vivid in his mind's eye. He hears metal scraping against concrete, and sees the imprint of his brother's trustful eyes behind his eyelids. He does not look into the mirror this time.

He goes about his day much like he would any other. The red banded turtle head out to gather firewood, and volunteers to chop them into pieces. When he feels the sharp pain in his ribs, he'll do quick work to keep his expression neutral. When he washes himself in the shower, he'll make sure to keep it steaming hot to fog all reflective surfaces.

Eating did not pique his interest the way it used to. But he'll force himself to swallow just to keep his brothers at bay. He catches glance of Mikey's wandering eyes, but he pays it no mind.

He'll slunk over to his ragged mattress on the garage floor, and he'll listen to nature's soft lull. It's the calm before the storm, the quiet before his eventual crash into wakefulness.

A couple of days later, he finds that their food supply is once again growing thin. He goes again to prepare his supplies before he hears his brother cry out.

Rushing over to the fields, he finds Donnie weeping over another set of wilted weeds. The older turtle had been avoiding him since that day, but he knows he is needed now.

The turtle walks over to his little brother, who was slumped over in the mud. He tries to keep his voice down until he feels the soft vibrations in his throat. He hopes it sounded as soothing as he thought it was.

He asks his brother to join him once more on his hunt, and he's thankful that he agreed. The older turtle knows he's not good with words, but he hoped his brother knows he's there either way.

Donnie apologizes. And the turtle feels too much.

There's a being crawling inside of him, screaming to break free. He feels its grating claws, and how it forces his entire body to stiffen up like stone.

Donnie needed to know.

So he tells his brother everything. The being claws itself out of his shell, and the older turtle fear what it'll do to his brother.

But Donnie needed to know. So here he was, confessing his sins. Hoping that it gets the reaction he's looking for, pleading for the sorries to stop.

But his brother apologizes again. Donnie pushes everything aside and told him that he's sorry.

He feels the tingle in his chest, and he feels his body soften as the electricity in his fingers fizzle out. There's a warm, steady beating in his insides, and it almost feels familiar.

Raph looks at his brother. Truly look at him after all those weeks, and he sees his eyes. So exhausted and stricken with grief, but he's looking up at Raph with hope, longing, tenderness, vulnerability.  A sense of preciousness in his brother's gaze that made the older turtle feel like he was the most important thing in the world.

And perhaps right now, in this moment, he really is. Important.

The next morning, Raphael woke up with only the aftertaste of his dream. The air feels lighter today, and his mind uncharacteristically clear.

He sets off to the woods without regard for food supply. Instead of hunting for meat, he plants himself down beside the same lake they've been to. Not really fishing for anything, but just sitting down to ponder, and savor the momentary grace of silence.

A rustle in some nearby grass, and he spots a turtle gnawing at the moss along the edge of the lake. In this moment, he feels surreal. They were nearly one in the same. Only, one of them is just a normal turtle, while the other is barely a turtle at all.

He starts talking to the little turtle despite knowing it couldn't possibly understand. But the turtle cocks its head, looking up at him with curiosity. He assumes that the turtle comprehended his troubles nonetheless.

The red banded turtle talks of his little brothers, and his heart swells at his adoration for them. The Raphael before wouldn't be caught dead with sweet words, but that need to conceal things were not here.

He tells the turtle about Mikey, his youngest brother who somehow seemed to make something for himself in such tragic circumstances. An artist, a creator. He recounts the times he's seen the detailed landscape on his rugged notebook, and awes audibly. Mikey was a goofball at heart, but he was more than that. And the red banded turtle feels his chest swell with pride.

Then he talks of Donatello, the smartest person he knows. He's resourceful, quick witted, innovative. Despite living in the sewers for all his life, he still manages to stuff his brain with everything he can from all around the world.

Donnie was ambitious, and that would both be his blessing and his curse. His brother could reach up for the stars when he wants to. But when he can't, he hurts. He hurts from failure, despite no one ever putting such expectations on him. The red banded turtle frowns at that.

Then Leo...

The little turtle looks up at him with expectant eyes. But he shuts it down.

That's a story for another day.

He doesn't speak to the little turtle anymore, but it sat by him with its shell to his ankle.

He thinks about his talk with Donnie. The feeling of his insides coming to the surface still fresh in his memory. He thinks about Donnie's words, his apologies.

And he allows himself to sit in this tingly feeling for a little longer. Despite the cloudiness in his mind, the dark corners within it, there's an addictive light that seemed to draw itself out from the crowd. He knows he can't sit in this feeling too long, but for now he'll just stay.

The turtle momentarily leaves to drink water from the lake. Amused, Raph watches it dunk its head in the water to cleanse itself of dirt. He chuckles, luring himself to the lake to join it.

Raph cups a handful of water and splashes it onto his face, rubbing off the grime. He feels his scar, wrinkled  and raised from other patches of skin. He instinctively looks at the water, but only froze when he saw what looked back.

For a brief moment, he saw Raphael– his amber eyes, and a snarl that he didn't even realize he had on. But as Raph's expression softens up, he sees his form, his face, his eyes.

He sees Leo.

He punched a tree in a moment of heightened emotions. A burning in his chest replaced the tingle, the heat felt familiar but was nonetheless agonizingly heavy. There's stinging in his knuckles and his arms are electrified, coursing the energy down to his fingertips.

The little turtle scurried away and disappears within the tall grass. And the red banded turtle heads back to the farm.

The city lights were glistening softly. Despite the quiet, there's still that distinct ambience that made this city its own living, breathing being. He was in New York City again, atop the building with his metal covered legs dangling over the edge. He touches at the gash on his left shoulder to find that it has already scarred over, accompanied by the wrinkled skin littering his upper arm. He touches his eye and finds the familiar raised skin spanning across his forehead to cheek.

He hears footsteps lure itself closer from behind, and a whoosh of air when the figure finally sits down beside him.

"We're here again." Leo says, who looked out towards the city before turning towards Raph.

"You're going off script," the younger turtle jokes, but there's no humor in it.

"You know what happens after this, right?" Leo's eyes looked calm, nurturing. A serene quality to his stature, which Raphael felt uneasy towards.

But he nods anyway, knowing how this dream goes.

"So take us somewhere else," Leo suggest, standing up and walking out of Raphael's view behind him, "somewhere nice for once."

With this, the younger turtle gets up as well, turning around to face his brother. Leo was standing by a shed that wasn't previously there, a hand at the door handle, waiting for Raph expectantly.

Raphael searches within himself, trying to find that familiar tingle. When he found where it led to, he couldn't resist chuckling out and shaking his head. He looks back up at the door, and sees his brother smiling back.

Then wordlessly, he walks towards the door, to which his brother held open for him before following him inside.

Raphael feels the cold tiles beneath his feet and realizes his metallic armor had vanished. He hears Leo circle behind him, as he idly saunters over to the bathtub.

"I have to admit, I did not expect this," Leo teases. They were in April's farm again, the bathroom. There was a certain feel to the air, that Raph recognized was from a distant past.

"Why here?" Leo turns to him and asks earnestly this time.

It took Raph a couple of beats to search for the answer. But this soft feeling in his chest made him certain that this was the right place.

" 'Cause this was the closest we've gotten to bein' like old times," he says finally, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

He closed his eyes, and relives the feeling of being submerged in water. The cool air hugging his skin exposed above the surface, hearing soft snoring beside him.

There's echoes of Leo's enthusiastic cheers, muffled and fleeting, having no tangibility. He hears more echoes of his own voice, exhausted yet relieved all the same. There's talk of food, and he almost snickers at the way both their voices sounded much chirpier.

He opens his eyes again, and he feels Leo's arms hoist him up from the bathtub.

"I'm sorry," Raph blurts out.

"You're going off script," Leo teases, "That's my line."

"I didn't know then what I know now," he pauses, "I didn't- I know now it was..."

He tries to elaborate but the words fell flat on his tongue. Though he supposes it doesn't matter, because Leo seemed to understand anyway.

"You're taking care of them just fine," Leo reassures, and he takes his little brother into an embrace.

The feeling in Raphael's chest intensified. He feels his hands nearly clawing at his brother's shell, trying to keep him closer. Even despite the world shifting and everything going off course, this felt the same.

Suddenly, he hears a series of chirps from outside, and he instinctively breaks away from the hug. Leo turns towards the same direction, it seemed that he had expected it.

He turns towards Raph once more with a solemn expression, one that tries to push for something lighter.

"It's time to go, Raph."

Raphael feels his own face drop to a frown. The bubbling anxiety in his chest rises up to his throat, and all he wants was to hold onto his brother's shell just a tiny bit longer.

Because he can't leave yet. They had so much to talk about, so much to catch up on. He needed just a bit more time, just enough to make sure that he'll be alright. All he asks for, was just one more day.

His brother's eyes soften, a sad smile directed at him. It's as if he already knew.

Leo steps away from him, a firm hand on Raphael's arms gently pushing them apart.

"You don't need me anymore, Raph," and Leo smiles. Not a sad one, but more of reassurance, one that was uniquely untroubled.

There's a darkness beginning to overshadow them, as the room start to blur into a myriad of bright streaks zooming past their peripherals. A light shines behind Raphael, as he watches Leo's face begin to bask in white.

"You'll be fine without me."

He sees Leo nod.

Then he hears a cacophony of metal scraping against concrete, clashing and reeling. His body begins to burn with fire in his veins, and the sensation only intensifies with each passing second.

He's frozen, as if his entire body was encased in plaster. His entire form rendered motionless, his throat threatening to close up before he can gasp for air.

"April's gonna kill you, man."

He blinks, his vision slowly returning from the blinding white. There's broken porcelain on the floor, shattered beyond repair.

He senses a presence, and he darts his eyes over to the turtle before him. Mikey stood there, a dumbfounded expression on his face. And this is where the sentence started to marinate into the older turtle.

He lets out a surprised chuckle, before he feels his throat open up and allows another. Mikey returned with his own amused snort, then eventually they both let out howls of untainted laughter.

"You idiot," he finally blurts out. For a moment, it felt like a different time. Somewhere warmer, sweeter.

He lets Mikey do most of the cleaning up this time. Deciding that his shaky fingers would only make it worse.

He sits at his mattress instead, waiting for Mikey to finish. Despite the sounds of wind rustling the trees, the weight in his stomach only seemed to worsen, pulsating a dull ache.

He feels the mattress shift as a weight plants itself beside him, and for a while they were silent. For once, the quiet was comfortable, peaceful. The mere acknowledgement of each other's presence seemed to suffice.

It was Mikey who broke the silence first, asking about what happened.

The older turtle dismisses him.

But Mikey asks again. With his baby blue eyes, and his innocent face littered with freckles. Despite how much he's grown, the red banded turtle could never separate him from that child in the sewers.

He remembers his glossy eyes, and his quivering lips that day in the van. The way he looked less like a boy, and much like a man. And the older turtle caves in, hating how he'd let that happen.

So he fesses up. He tells him everything. He hates the way his arms were shot with lighting, and once again finds it terribly hard to keep still. He squeezes at his palms and covers up his bruised knuckles, feeling the way the desperation tries to force his form to cease its trembling.

There were sniffles, then there were ragged breathing, hiccuping, ugly gasps for air. Each sharp intake sending spikes to the older turtle's organs.

But somehow, among this chaos, something broke through,

"You did what you could, Raph."

He feels a punch to his chest.

"We'll find him," he says again, "we just need'ta... just keep our heads up."

There was a bubbly feeling in his chest that seemed like a trespasser, because no matter how much he wanted it, it does not deserve to be there. His brothers were giving him all the warmth in the world, and he doesn't even know if they truly heard what he'd done. What he'd caused. What had to be sacrificed for him to still be walking on this earth.

Everything after that was a blur. There was a protest, and then there was Mikey arguing against him. There's a push and pull, and he remembers spilling his guts on the floor with Leo's name leaving his lips.

And there was yearning, his fingers feeling the phantom sensation of someone else's shell. There was desperation, a wanting, then the feeling of something being ripped away from his fingers.

"It was him or me," he felt himself say, "and... I'm here."

The absence of his brother had felt like molten glass that hardened around his rib cage, seeping into his lungs. What Don and Mike do not realize was that this absence could've been avoided.

Raphael Hamato caused this absence. And this would be the first time in a while he truly felt like Raphael.

Raphael who got thrown through the skylight because he stormed off after a fight with Leo.

Raphael who drove Leo away to Central America because he made him feel like he wasn't a good enough leader.

Raphael who challenged his brother to a duel, who allowed Leo to be taken by sentient statues because he was too immature to let Leo back in.

Raphael who lost Leo in a world of fire when they were just starting to become brother's again.

Raphael, who is here in place of Leo, taking up his role, his life. Who took the place of leader and majorly fucked up everything the job description entails.

Raphael, who is here... instead of Leo.

A weight wraps itself around his arms, and Raphael could not resist his entire body from flinching. There's wetness on his arm where Mikey's face had been rubbing against it, and he feels the shallow breath that pushes through his little brother's nostrils.

"You're alive..."

Mikey lets out a sad chuckle.

Then there was quiet.

Not like the quiet in his father's grave, nor what it was like in the lake.

Actual quiet.

There were birds chirping in the trees, with gentle winds rustling its branches. There were crickets humming near the garage, with the distant sound of a lake running along the stream.

Whatever thoughts Raphael had beforehand were not gone, but they were still, idly sitting at the back of his head. His mind is crowded with clutters of this and that, and maybe there was barely space for him to breathe but-

Oh God, was it quiet.

He calls out his little brother's name, afraid of staying in this silence. Afraid that it was too soon to be here, that maybe he was trespassing on something that was not meant for him.

"We'll find him," his brother reassures, "we'll find him."

For the first time in months, there's something tangible, something pure and solid against his mind's grasp. There's peace in those fluttery words, and it maintains the quiet.

But he had to be sure. Needed to be sure that this warmth in his chest truly belonged there.

"Do you really believe that?" He asks, and he sees his brother– red eyes, face puffy and blushed. His expression was soft, distinctly vulnerable.

But there it was– certainty.

"Yeah," he starts, "yeah, I do."

And he grasps the words in his mind, a brewing fire rising up in his chest. But this time, it was welcoming.

No, this time, it was familiar.

It was Raphael .

Raphael Hamato, who will bring Leo back.