Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Raphael didn’t really believe his father when he told him anger was self-destructive.

Sure, he sometimes regretted his rage-fuelled outbursts, especially if it meant he’d harmed his brothers in some way, but Raph could separate the symptoms from the cause. Taking his anger out on others didn’t feel good, but taking it out in general felt amazing. The pressure in his chest would finally break with the torrential downpour, and he’d always feel lighter afterwords, in a way that no other coping mechanism was able to achieve.

Raph loved that feeling with the same intensity that he despised the pressure. Which, of course, is why he felt so crappy right now.

It’s been days since they left Xaava-Dal and the Aeons behind, days since he’d shoved Mikey and shattered his helmet, days since he’d attacked Leo without a second thought; days since he’d had a good night’s sleep.

Raph knows the planet’s influence was mostly to blame, and that neither of his brothers hold those events against him, but he can’t stop seeing the worst-case scenario every time he shuts his eyes. Their atmosphere had been breathable, but not every planet’s is. If Leo hadn’t been able to stay calm and bring him out of the daze, how would their fight have ended? Would his family believe he hated them if their last memories of him were harsh words and impulsive hits? Would he only be remembered as the angry one?

He wasn’t confident he knew the answers to any of these questions, so Raph decided the best way to avoid the worst-case was to ignore his anger all together. Mikey and Casey are goofing off? He looks the other way. Donnie’s rambling with Fugitoid about something more complicated than it should be? He smiles and nods. And if Leo wants to spend all his free time in the Holo-Room talking to Schrödinger’s rat sensei, that’s his right. Nothing worth starting a fight over.

And that’s how Raph finds himself now, stewing in their sleeping quarters, trying not to let his anger boil over. Leo was in there, again, and he’d decided to skip breakfast to do so. Raph knows he can probably eat anytime, they were still on their way to meet with some contact of Fugitoids, but the fact that no one else seemed to mind it was threatening to push him over the edge. He was breathing, breathing, breathing as calmly as he could to settle the fire within. Being at it for almost ten minutes, it finally seemed to be working—

Raph couldn’t breathe.

Something was lodged in his throat.

It felt dry and prickly, and nothing like the cereal he’d finished in the last hour.

Raph rushed into the washroom, quickly locking the door before kneeling over the toilet. He heaves with all the strength he can muster, but whatever it was was taking its sweet fucking time. The one day he needs to hurl, his body works against him – go figure.

He’s not sure how long it takes, or how no one’s managed to interrupt him given how long he’s been gone, but Raph finally gets the stupid thing out of his system. He thankfully doesn’t feel any lingering nausea, but what he sees in the toilet makes him wish it was simply that.

What he sees is a stem full of bloody pink flowers, with a few stray petals floating around it.

Raph loses his ability to breath for a second time.

He’s heard of Hanahaki before, mostly from bad soap operas that play in the middle of a dull afternoon, but he also knew it was more complicated than that. He remembers Donnie asking Splinter about it when they saw one of the soap operas in question, and their father explaining that it was a chronic condition caused by the repression of strong emotions. Some believe that the type of flowers could signify what the patient was withholding, while others believe the flowers were tied to who the patient was intrinsically. He didn’t really care about any of these things.

Raph knows what his flowers are for.

Defiantly, he flushes the offensive plant away, and rinses his mouth out quickly. He really hopes his absence hasn’t drawn any attention. Heck, if they’re close enough to the cantina, their mission will be more than enough to distract the others from his brief disappearance. On that note, Raph leaves the washroom and heads for the bridge.

He will ignore the pressure for now.

Chapter Text

The pressure wasn’t getting any lighter.

Raph had hoped that their missions would be enough to distract him from his growing problem, but he was quickly learning that Hanahaki was a much more persistent, and insistent disease than he’d ever seen it to be on TV. The flowers were coming at a rapid pace, and once a raceme begins the agonizingly slow crawl up his throat, all he can do is wait for it to be over, and hope he doesn’t suffocate in the process.

He hated it, but Raph refused to cave to the flower’s demands, especially when he could see the difference his affable demeanor has been making in his brothers’ lives.

Donatello seemed to have more enthusiasm as he rambled about all he’s been learning from the Fugitoid, not having to worry that he would be cut off by a bored yawn or sarcastic jab. Michelangelo wasn’t flinching as often if Raph moved too suddenly around him, a habit Raph regrettably never picked up on before the whole Aeon fiasco. It also seemed like Mikey had eased back on deliberately trying to rile him up now that he couldn’t get a reaction out of him. Raph tries to focus on this small benefit whenever the flowers leave him feeling especially rough.

He hasn’t noticed any big change in his dynamic with Leonardo, but he’s sure that he would if his brother spent less time—

Nope, don’t think about it. If you think about it, you’ll just have more flowers later.
It’s fine.

It wasn’t like Raph was just abandoning his temper cold turkey. He still used it for combat. Hell, he’s pretty sure combat was the only reason he’d survived the day locked in a cell in the Tri-Arena without having to explain bloody plants to his brothers or the horn-heads. And if he threw in a couple superfluous cuts and kicks to keep his condition at bay for a few more hours, who’s to know?

Unfortunately, a few more hours was really all their fight had bought him. Raph felt the scratching in the back of his throat sometime in the middle of the night, and quietly snuck away to deal with it. He’d been lucky to find that the washroom was, in fact, soundproof, so the others would never have to find out what was happening so long as he locked the door. And if they did ask about his frequent trips, he’d just say that space was getting to him, which wouldn’t even be that far from the truth.

The next morning, after ensuring he had gotten all the flowers out of his system for hopefully the next several hours, Raph made his way to the common area for breakfast. Everyone was present except for Donnie and the Fugitoid, so he figured they were off calibrating the ship’s navigation or something.

Mikey was the first to notice him. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“You’re one to talk,” Raph tried to respond, but was appropriately interrupted by his own yawning.

“You okay, Raph? I thought I heard you get up last night.”

April’s concern left Raph frozen for a moment. Of course the psychic would know something was up, even if she didn’t know what exactly. He answered, as cool as he could, “Just to get some ice, I’m a bit sore after yesterday.”

“You’re telling me,” Leo added, rubbing tenderly at his own face. “I feel like Xeno dislocated and relocated my jaw a couple times.”

“Did you let Donnie check it out?” Raph asked.

Leo shook his head. “I don’t think it’s really that bad. I’ll see how I feel after meditation.”

Raph knew what that meant. Leo was going to spend hours in the Holo-Room until a meal or a mission came to interrupt him.

Before Raph even had a chance to bite his tongue, Donnie and the Fugitoid came through the doors behind him. “Oh good, you’re all here. I have an important matter to address with everybody, one of rather,” the Professor coughed awkwardly, “personal circumstances.”

That got everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to the Fugitoid, and only Donnie seemed to know what he was speaking of.

“Before I explain, I should clarify that the ship runs routine diagnostics on all its major systems to ensure optimal functionality, and will flag anything that could cause technical problems in the future.” He pauses for a moment. “This includes the plumbing system.”

Everyone looks mildly disgusted by this, but Casey is the first to speak up. “Where are you going with this, Fugi-dude?”

The Fugitoid is quick to reply, “I promise, it doesn’t look for anything invasive to your privacy. It only scans for non-waste materials that could cripple the system through accumulation, o-or degradation of the infrastructure.”

Several heads turn to Donnie for clarification. “He means that non-flushable garbage could clog the pipes, if it doesn’t destroy them altogether. Anyone wanna deal with backed-up sewage in space?”

A round of “Ugh,” “No,” and “Gross” can be heard from the group, before Raph turns a curious eye to the scientists. “Does that mean you guys found garbage?”

The two share a nervous look before Donnie answers the question. “Uh, yes and no. The Professor got the alert for the problem and thought it was a malfunction at first. When he showed me what the flagged obstructions were, I... I had to explain why it wasn’t an error.”

“Why would you think the analyzer was malfunctioning?” Leo asked.

“Because I had no idea how plants could’ve ended up in the plumbing system.”

Time seems to stop with the Fugitoid’s words. Raph is frozen as he takes in the hurt and confused looks on everyone else’s faces.

“As I’ve said, the diagnosis is non-invasive, so I have no idea who this issue is concerning, but because I wasn’t aware of any diseases similar to your Hanahaki, I did share the analysis with Donatello, hoping he could learn more about the ship’s internal systems,” the Professor continued.

Figures this mess would be because of their scientific endeavors, stupid, unfeeling science, Raphael thinks. His condition may still be anonymous, but he feels exposed more than he ever has been before.

He feels like he’s gonna be sick.

The Fugitoid interrupts his spiraling thoughts once more. “I’ll leave you alone to discuss this if you wish. All I ask is for the afflicted individual to use the garbage receptacles instead of the toilet from now on.” With that, he exits the room.

All eyes fall on Donnie, who cautiously glances back at everybody. “I know this is a lot to take in, and it’s probably not how anyone wanted to start the day, so I’m not going to make anyone confess to anything right now.”

The group still seems to hold their breath, looking around for whoever seems the most relieved by his statement. Raph puts everything he has into keeping his face neutral.

“That being said,” Donnie continues, “I’m encouraging whoever it is to talk to me as soon as they have a chance. We all know this doesn’t just go away on its own, and because of everything else we’re dealing with, I think medical intervention will absolutely be necessary until you have the opportunity clear the disease yourself.”

Donnie’s eyes stop on Raph, who tries his best to look only mildly affronted by the coincidence, an imperfect mask for his ‘deer in the headlights’ feeling. He doesn’t drop the expression as Donnie turns to go out the door. “I’ll be in the infirmary if ever you’re ready,” he calls.

Everyone else stares around the room, clearly wondering who will follow Donnie’s advice. Mikey slowly gravitates towards the TV set, with Casey not far behind. April seems to be stuck on the spot. She fiddles with her Aeon crystal, desperately wanting to know who among her friends is silently suffering, but unwilling to breach that trust at such a volatile moment.

It’s Leo who finally cuts the tension in the room, announcing that he needs to meditate on this for a while. The others watch him leave with heartbroken concern in their eyes, but Raph looks away.

He already knows that’s not Leo’s problem.

Chapter Text

Luckily for him, Leo’s exit had been more than enough to distract attention off of himself.

No one had any reason to suspect he was the afflicted individual. If anything, his recent behaviour would indicate a positive change in his life, as opposed to the degenerative disease they all now knew and loathed. When he left to “work out,” no one really batted an eye.

So, Raphael once again made his way to the washroom.

To his credit, he did heed the Fugitoid’s warnings about the plumbing system. He coughed up the accursed bloom into the sink, and gingerly rinsed away the blood from its petals, but he refused to leave it in the trash.

The thought that he could see it, that anyone could see it, out in the open like this? Unimaginable. Raph’s pretty sure seeing it exposed like that would just send him into another heaving fit, much like it has now.

The next stem forces its way up before he can finish drying the first. His throat has barely had a second to recover, so it hurts. Tears burn in his eyes, on his cheeks, same as the sharp petals that sting in his throat. He’s trying so hard to breath through it, to breath at all.

Finally, Raph expels the putrid flower. He grips the sink like it were a life preserver as he struggles to catch his breath. He doesn’t remember shutting his eyes, but he opens them to see what lies in the sink.

This stem has more flowers growing from it, and as Raph inspects it, he can see these flowers have more petals sprouting from them as well.

Double flowers. Fuck.

He’s definitely getting worse.

Before he has even a second to think, the Fugitoid’s voice projects from the ship’s intercom, calling everyone to the bridge. Raph rinses the blood from his flowers and his mouth as fast as he can, and takes stock of himself in the mirror. He’s unfortunately paler, with a clear sheen of sweat over most of his face, but he hopes the others will just believe it came from his so-called work out, without prying too deeply for the truth.

On that note, he slowly steps out into their sleeping quarters, making sure the room is empty before he stuffs the new flowers into the bottom of his pillowcase. He swears to find a real means to dispose of them later, but for now, Raph assumes he has a mission of some kind to gear up for.

Who knows, he might actually get the chance to give the flowers what they want.

-------------

When Raph found out they were going to Dimension X, he feared the worst. A whole dimension that annoyed him to no end, at a time when annoying him could lead to a wrathful explosion or a blood-soaked bouquet was definitely not the mission he was hoping for when he arrived on the bridge for debriefing.

He was the last to arrive, but the Fugitoid clearly didn’t want to waste any time, so no one got the chance to ask him about his appearance. Raph knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet, though. Donnie was obviously looking around the room for any signs of who his secret patient might be, while the Professor explained that they needed to find the Utroms to find out where the other pieces of the Black Hole Generator could be found.

Raph decided in that moment to avoid any and all contact with Donnie for the rest of the mission if he could help it. He tried to act as if nothing was wrong as they travelled away in the stealth ship, and though his gentle ribbing at Mikey’s expense did seem to lighten all of their spirits for the moment, there was an unmistakable tension in the air.

It didn’t let up when they travelled through to Dimension X. It didn’t let up when they found Bishop and the Utroms. It didn’t even let up when they argued with the previously unknown Utrom Council about their mission and all they’ve done to protect the Earth.

It was, of course, broken by the Kraang. They captured the Utrom Queen, Mikey followed them through their portal, and Raph didn’t hesitate to follow Mikey in turn. He was a little startled when the portal disappeared behind him, but without Donnie’s eyes discreetly travelling around the room every few seconds, he finally felt like he was safe.

Or, as safe as he could be in an enemy base.

That feeling multiplied, however, when he found Mona Lisa and Sal Commander. Not only did Raph have the chance to finally see her again, but he also got to bash in a security panel with reckless abandon, despite Mikey’s protests.

He doesn’t think he’s breathed this well in days.

Raph carries this good feeling with him through the rest of the mission. He puts all the fury he can muster into beating down the Kraang and their Dracodroid, and savours every moment he can get with Mona before they’ll inevitably have to go their separate ways. By the time that happens, when they have the locations for the next pieces of the Generator and he’s kissed the beautiful warrior goodbye, he feels like he's on cloud nine.

Sadly, he feels this euphoria dissipate as they step back onto the Ulixes.

April and Casey don’t look as annoyed as they were when the brothers left. If anything, they look apprehensive. They ask how the mission went and Donnie gives them the full rundown, with Mikey filling in details from their time in the Kraang base. Raph lingers among the group, while Leo heads off with the Fugitoid, probably to plan their course for retrieving the next fragment.

April nods silently. She shares a look with Casey before turning back to Donnie. Hesitantly, she asks, “And nothing else happened while you guys were there?”

They all know exactly what she’s talking about. Raph sees Mikey looking somewhere on the floor, while Donnie lets out a short sigh before responding just as warily. “No, thankfully. Did anything happen here?”

“No. We just stayed on the bridge,” April replies. After a moment, she chuckles, “Someone probably should’ve gone to the Holo-Room, though.”

As the rest of the group turns their focus on Casey, who awkwardly describes the damage he may have done to the floor with his hockey stick, Raph feels like he’s becoming trapped in his own mind. Of course the others would be trying just as hard to figure out who has his disease as Donnie is. They’re all admittedly nosy kids who care too much about each other to just let something like this remain secret, and it seems like it's becoming harder and harder to do just that.

Relationship shenanigans aside, April and Casey are close, with each other and with Donatello. They probably already know that neither of them have Hanahaki, and April will likely tell Donnie as much. Knowing that he himself is clear, Donnie will know it’s one of his brothers. They were all inside Mikey’s mind barely a few weeks ago, and Raph’s pretty sure nothing they saw in there would seem strong enough for Donnie to think he had the disease. This would narrow his brother’s investigation down to himself and Leo, which felt infinitely more revealing than the Professor’s discovery this morning.

Donnie would probably come to each of them asking about it, too. He may even ask the others for their observations as well. Raph really isn’t sure how well he’d be able to lie to Donnie about this face-to-face, and if he chooses to talk to Leo first, he can just consider himself fucked.

He’s lost in his spiral. He doesn’t feel the itching until it’s too late.

Raph tries to clear his throat, tries to back out of the room unseen, but it isn’t enough. It’s becoming harder and harder to breathe.

That’s when Leo makes eye contact with him from across the room.

It’s too much. Raph brings a hand to his mouth as he tries to swallow the blooming stems back down, as impossible as he knows it to be. His body quakes with each suppressed cough.

Leo quickly runs over, calling Raph’s name with concern, which prompts everyone else to turn toward him as well. Fuck.

Their eyes are like knives, cutting into him with all the love, compassion, and fear they hold. As tears start to well up in his own eyes, all Raph can do is stare back at them.

He can’t take it anymore.

He collapses to his knees just as Leo reaches his side. He finally gives up the fight, allowing his body to hack and heave as a hand rubs gentle circles into his carapace.

It’s the most he’s ever expelled at once. Three long stems of the awful pink flowers, all blooming twice the amount of petals as they were in the beginning. His pooling blood is a stark contrast against the ship’s pristine white floor.

When it’s finally over, Raph keeps his gaze locked on the flowers. His frantic breathing slowly becomes normal again. His family speaks gently, offering to get him a glass of water, to help him get cleaned up, to help him over to the infirmary for a check up. He responds to none of it.

Someone asks if they should get rid of the flowers, and Raph finally shakes his head. “I can do that,” he groans.

The others hold on to him as he gathers up his dreadful bouquet. They help him to his feet and carefully lead him out of the room. The Fugitoid offers to stay behind to clean up the bridge, which Raph will definitely thank him for later.

Through all of this, he fails to notice the look Leo keeps sending to the flowers cradled in his arms.

Chapter Text

They do everything they promise.

April gets him a glass of water from the kitchen, making sure it isn’t too cold for his now sensitive throat. Mikey and Casey bring him to the washroom, wiping the blood from his face as he rinses his flowers in the sink.

They escort him to the infirmary, where Leo starts taking his vitals as Donnie prepares for what he assumes will be an x-ray.

Though Leo confirms that he’s not at an immediate risk of dying, the eldest also confirms that his temperature’s high and his breath is wavering, even if the rate is normal. His pulse is apparently rapid, but he’s unsure if that’s due to his recent attack or the present mortification.

Raph won’t look any of them in the eye. He hasn’t uttered a word since they left the bridge. None of this feels real, and he’s afraid that acknowledging his family will send him into yet another fit.

But when Leo steps aside, and Donnie takes his place on the stool in front of him, he knows he won’t have a choice. His brother leans forward, determination clear on his face. Raph knows he’s being challenged, but he’s grateful to see the thinly veiled rage beneath a calm exterior for once. Donnie can be quite terrifying when he wants to be, but he’ll take anything right now that isn’t just pity.

“Alright Raph, when did it start?” Donnie wastes no time moving into doctor mode, preparing to record everything in one of the Fugitoid's data pads.

Raph stays quiet for a moment. “After the Aeons.”

Donnie’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t comment further. “And how frequent have your attacks been?”

He flinches hearing 'your attacks,' but keeps his answers short and clinical. “Started every few days. Then once a day. Lately's been every few hours.”

“Have you been doing anything to curb it on your own?”

Clearly not enough, his brain supplies. He offers his brother a half truth. “Our missions were a decent distraction at first.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Donnie glares.

“Well, it’s what I said.” Raph glares right back

His brother narrows his eyes now. “So, no cough medicine? Breathing exercises? Any attempt to figure out why you have Hanahaki?”

He keeps glaring, but hides the fists clenching in his lap.

You have Hanahaki.
You have Hanahaki.

It echoes through Raph’s mind.

Donnie breaks the line of questioning with a sigh. “Alright then. Have you been suppressing the attacks at all?”

He doesn’t stop his brain this time as he scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause I’m clearly really good at that.”

Donnie levels him with the most unimpressed look he’s gotten in a while.

Electing to ease up a bit, Raph breathes out, “Maybe at first? But back then I thought I was just clearing my throat.”

Donnie relaxes as he makes a note. “Okay. Now, have the flowers all been the same?”

“More or less.” When he raises an eye, Raph knows it’s not good enough. “All the same flower, but lately they’ve been double-petalled.”

Donnie nods. “Double-flowered. And I’m assuming the amount has increased with the frequency?”

“Pretty much.”

“Right,” Donnie confirms. “And have you experienced any symptoms outside the attacks?”

Raph has to think about this, because he’s been trying his best not to think about the disease when he isn’t coughing up its refuse. “...I think my chest hurts sometimes? I guess I’m tired after they happen, and cold, but also kinda sweaty? My sleep’s been really fucked too, but I thought that was more of a space thing. I think the worst is just how raw my throat feels.”

“So I hear,” the genius utters, jotting everything down.

Hearing this makes Raph deflate as he finally glances at the others gathered around him. Leo looks back sheepishly, while everyone else tries awkwardly to avoid his gaze.

Shit, was it that bad now?

Before he can ask, Donnie stands, setting the data pad on the stool. “Now that that’s done, let’s take a look at what we’re dealing with.” He waves Raph over to a large bench.

He sees Leo and Casey both moving in as he starts to get up, and quickly waves them off. It’s three steps, dammit!

Laying down on the bench, Raph decides to stare at nothing on the ceiling, trying to forget where he is for the moment. Unfortunately, it isn’t that distracting. He often loathes how barren and polished the ship looks, especially compared to his room in the lair.

His thoughts drift to the Fugitoid, who’s probably still cleaning up the mess he left behind on the bridge. It makes him feel worse. Awful, actually.

He needs to focus on his brother’s ramblings. He can’t have another attack this soon.

“… and based on what you’ve told me, it shouldn’t be too widespread at this point. At least, no further than your chest, I hope.” Donnie finishes as he pulls the overhead machine into Raph's field of vision, making sure it’s stable before he lets go. “The scan should be harmless, but please let me know if you feel even a little discomfort, okay?”

Raph nods, and Donnie turns to address the group. “Everyone else should be out of the room or behind the shield with me.” They all elect to stay, trailing after the genius like a flock of morbidly curious ducklings.

Raph focuses on breathing, in and out, in and out, through his nose so nothing can be irritated. He sees a thumbs up in his peripheral, and quickly shoots one back.

He’s never had an X-ray taken before, and though it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t really feel like nothing either. It only lasts about ten seconds, but he swears he can feel a soft flutter in his chest for more than half of that time. He tries not to imagine his flowers being agitated by the radiation, or drawing on its energy to grow into an even bigger problem.

… Why is Raph only now remembering the Creep?

Hanahaki’s never been recorded in mutants before, at least as far as he knows. What if this becomes yet another mutagen dilemma? Or he’s transformed into a hardly sentient plant for the second time in his sixteen years of life?

Or what if the flowers take over? What if they grow strong enough to control his body?

His mind?

Would they pilot his actions to engage with the violent anger he’s been starving them of for the last couple weeks? Would they target his brothers? The reasons he abandoned such anger in the first place?

Would they make him watch?

Raph is paralyzed on the bench, unable to move, unable to breath, stuck considering all the what ifs as another raceme begins to tickle the back of his throat.

-------------

Behind the shield, Donnie stares pensively at the screen before him. The other four crowd around, glancing anxiously between the confusing display and their resident doctor.

“We might have a problem,” Donnie finally declares.

“What is it?” Leo asks, leaning closer.

“The flowers are primarily central to his lungs, as I assumed, but the roots are collecting closer to his heart.” Donnie leans toward the screen, pointing to a couple of spots on the scan. “Some might already be penetrating it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Is he dying?!”

Donnie quickly turns to grab Mikey by the shoulders. “He’s not dying, and I promise he won’t.” He addresses Casey, “but it does mean that his condition is strong, and medical interference will be crucial to keep it from getting worse.”

April tilts her head. “How much worse could it get, Dee?”

They’re interrupted by the sound of hacking before he has a chance to answer.

They all watch Raph through the shield, still lying on his shell as another attack racks his body.

Donnie grabs the nearest trash can and shoves it into Mikey’s hands. “Sit him up before he chokes!” He turns to Casey and April. “Help Mikey, and try to coach Raph’s breathing when he has the chance!”

They hurry out of the secluded space. Leo tries to race after them, but a firm grip on his forearm holds him in place. “Donnie, Raph needs help!”

“And they can handle him for a few minutes. I need you to listen to me.” Donnie has that challenging look in his eye once again. Leo stops resisting, but looks back with an equally hardened visage.

“Raph’s condition is strong, which means that whatever’s causing it either comes from a strong emotion, or something he’s been burying pretty deep.” Donnie’s expression softens. “I know you’ve studied Hanakatoba before, so I was really hoping you might have some clue about what’s going on with him.”

Leo turns from his brother to look through the shield. He spots the bouquet Raph left with his seat, and recalls how he was cradling it earlier. Protecting it, his mind corrects. “I have a few... I’ll see if I can get through to him in the next couple days.”

“If anyone can,” Donnie quips humorlessly. “In the meantime, I’ll put him on some medication and give him a puffer, see if that relieves his symptoms any.”

“Right,” Leo nods. He hooks a finger over his shoulder. “Can we go help him now, please?”

“I’m right behind you.”

With that, they rush back into the larger space to aid their brother.

Chapter Text

It’s been a few days since Raph’s impromptu check-up.

After April managed to free his mind from its paralysis, the others helped coach him through the oncoming attack, encouraging him to breath through his nose whenever he had the chance.

Once it passed, Donnie hopped right back into doctor mode. He sat Raph up on the bench as he explained his treatment plan for the disease. It started with an injected medication that Raph couldn’t recall the name of, but knew was designed to attack the growing plants and reduce the inflammation in his airways.

The injections would be daily for two weeks. If his condition improves, he’ll be introduced to an anti-floral medication, and alternate it with the injections for at least another week.

Donnie also provided him with an inhaler, intended to combat any oncoming attacks he could anticipate, or clear his airways after those he couldn’t. Raph finds himself using it a lot for the short time he’s had it, but Donnie assures him that the supply should last for the next couple months they have to spend in space.

Could this really go on that long?

It’s a question Raph’s been asking himself a lot lately. The medication’s certainly been effective, seeing how he’s finally been able to sleep through the night without an attack, while the flaring chest pains have become less intense. Now that he’s become aware of what they were, per Donnie’s diagnosis, Raph’s tried paying more attention to their severity, where they’re coming from, and how long they last.

And that’s what’s been worrying him the most lately.

The pains aren’t as severe, but their frequency hasn’t really changed. Raph may be sleeping soundly once again, but he’s still having three or four attacks throughout the day. Sometimes the inhaler stops them, but more often it just delays them, and it hasn’t done anything to change the quantity of flowers coming up.

Three long stems, double-flowered, soaked in his own blood. He probably has enough to start a plant nursery at this point.

Donnie did talk him through what would happen if his condition didn’t improve, and that’s what Raph finds himself pondering now as he fiddles the inhaler. If the bleeding doesn’t let up, they’ll need to consider a clotting agent, or even transfusion. If the pains start emanating more from his heart than his lungs, they’ll have to add another injection to his daily medications to attack the roots.

If there’s no real sign of improvement over the course of his treatment, surgery will be their last resort to remove the flowers and cut away whatever’s infected. Only that option becomes a lot harder when you have to work around a shell, and schedule the procedure during your time-travelling mission to save Earth from total annihilation.

With that lovely memory in mind, Raph takes a hit from the puffer, knowing that if he thinks too much, another attack is sure to follow. The others glance around when they hear it, but no one brings it up.

Raph was scared they’d treat him differently after learning the full extent of his condition, that he’d be forced to keep his distance to avoid being handled like a baby. Fortunately, no one’s really done anything out of the ordinary. They still help him through his attacks, and Donnie asks how he’s been feeling during each injection, but he doesn’t have to feel like all eyes are on him as he lounges on the bridge with everyone.

Almost everyone, that is.

It’s strange. Though he loathed the thought of it, a small part of him wanted his big brother to be hovering over him right now. So long as Leo was spending time in the real world and not his memories, Raph could deal with the mother hen act for a little while.

April coincidentally brings up Leo’s absence a second later, and Donnie delivers the answer they know all too well: the Holo-Room, again.

“Maybe it’s not healthy talking to a hologram of Splinter all the time,” Raph finally says. He knows he isn’t exactly the picture of perfect health at the moment, but that doesn’t mean Leo’s doing any better when he keeps talking to a ghost. “I miss him too, but—”

“Leo just needs him now more than ever,” Mikey interrupts. “He’ll be okay.”

“But he’s not okay now,” Raph stresses. “If something’s wrong and he’s trying to work through it, he should be talking to someone here, someone who’s real.”

“Yeah, maybe he should,” Donnie enunciates, staring directly at his immediate elder brother.

Raph glares back something fierce. No one else says a word.

The Fugitoid breaks the uncomfortable silence with a cough. “In a way, he is talking to the real Splinter, at least, your memories of him. The simulator is psychic, and can respond—”

“It’s not the same thing, Fugitoid,” Raph cuts, frustrated that no one else seems to see this as a problem.

Before he can continue, the bridge door shuts with a hiss. Raph turns to see the turtle of the hour standing right in the entrance.

Leo stares at him for a moment, like he wants to say something, but instead looks past him and starts heading toward the Professor. Casey tries to engage him, but Raph knows it’s pointless.

They have a new mission to embark on anyway.

-------------

On one hand, the mission was a success. They have the second fragment of the black hole generator.

On the other hand, Raph hacked up a few flowers in front of Armaggon. Practically on Armaggon if he's being honest. There wasn't much time to think about it in the moment, but he’s sure Shark-Mouth was as confused as he was disgusted.

It shouldn’t matter, since he and Dregg are likely resting in pieces in Cthugga’s stomach by now, but Raph hates the idea that one of their enemies could find out about his little problem so suddenly. If he can’t get to his puffer during a fight, if he’s held hostage for too long…

If he gets fucking seasick apparently.

He doesn’t want to think about it, and since they have a long trip ahead of them to get to the third piece, Raph decides he’s turning in early. He says as much to the others before leaving the bridge.

“Raph, wait!”

He stops in the doorway, surprised by Leo’s call.

“Uh, could you help me with something in the Holo-Room first?”

Raph sighs, pinching between his eyes as he asks, “Can it wait ‘til tomorrow?”

His brother seems composed, but his voice has a pleading lift to it. “I’d rather we go now, if that’s okay?”

Raph stares at him for a moment, hoping to find some break in his resolve, but he knows better. With a heavy sigh, he gestures for Leo to lead the way.

Neither of them speak on the way there, giving Raph a chance to remember the conversation Leo may or may not have overheard on the bridge. He wonders if he should’ve just refused the invitation. Leo enters the simulator first and stays by the door to close it behind them.

Raph turns hesitantly. “Leo, if this is about earlier, I just wanna—”

His brother holds up a hand to stop him. “It’s fine, Raph. I know it isn’t exactly the healthiest way to cope with things.”

He’s confused. “Then, why do you do it?”

“Because it still helps,” Leo explains. “There aren’t a whole lot of options for any of us right now, and…” he eyes his brother cautiously, “something’s still better than nothing, right?”

It finally clicks for Raphael. This wasn’t about Leo or the Holo-Room; it was about him. “Is that why you wanted me here? Did Donnie put you up to this?”

“Do you know what your flowers are?”

Raph blinks. The question is so sudden, he feels like he’s missed half the conversation. “What?”

“Your flowers,” Leo repeats, keeping his voice neutral.

Raph scoffs. “They’re long and pink, Leo. What—"

Leo steps forward before he can continue. “They’re Heathers, part of the Ericaceae family.” He gets closer to Raph with every word. “They represent solitude, protection, familial love…”

“Okay, and?”

Leo stands before him, a small frown growing on his face. “You said this started after the Aeons, and I don’t think anybody’s seen you lose your temper since then either.” Their eyes lock in a staring contest.

…Raph decides to break it first, taking a slow step back.

He should’ve expected this. Just because Leo wasn’t hovering, doesn’t mean he wasn’t observing, and Raph knows that strategic mind of his was smart enough to put all the pieces together.

He remembers Leonardo became more interested in flowers after Splinter began teaching them about Japan. Raph never knew how much his brother retained from his studies as the years went by, but his accusations would indicate he still knew quite a bit.

He’s not sure if it’s embarrassment or frustration that he feels for being caught out, but he keeps his voice calm as he asks, “Is that a bad thing?”

Leo’s eyes go wide. “If it’s causing Hanahaki, then yes.”

The word doesn’t make Raph wince this time, as he gazes tiredly at his older brother. “Leo, trust me. It’s better this way.”

The leader is dumbstruck for a moment. “How can you say that?”

“Because Mikey doesn’t flinch around me anymore. Donnie doesn’t hold back, and he looks so much happier for it.” Raph can hear his voice rising as he speaks, but he doesn’t care. “Everyone feels more comfortable with me now, and that’s all that matters.”

Leo steps toward him, raising his own voice desperately. “At the cost of your health? Your life?? Who you are?!”

“You wouldn’t understand!” Raph shouts. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to hold back, to have everyone see you for one thing and one thing alone, to be so afraid of hurting your own family—”

He’s interrupted by his own strangled breathing. Leo steps forward to help, but Raph holds out an arm to stop him, reaching for his inhaler with the other. He takes two quick puffs and waits for his lungs to relax, ignoring the concerned eyes in his peripheral.

“I can manage the Hanahaki,” he rasps.

The concern doesn’t fall from Leo’s face. “And if you can’t?”

Raph keeps his eyes on the floor. He’s so exhausted now, he can’t stop the depreciating chuckle that stutters from his mouth. “At least no one will think a went out hating them.”

It might not have been the best thing to say, but it was true, wasn’t it? This all started because of a rage so strong, it nearly killed two of his brothers. Raph never wanted to feel that angry again, and if that meant choking down Heathers and Ericas for the rest of his life, then he could live and die with it.

Leo hasn’t made a sound since he admitted that though, and the silence was slowly becoming agonizing. He looks to see that his brother’s expression has not changed, but Raph swears he can feel an aura of renewed determination reaching out to him.

It only gets stronger as Leo paces forward. “I might not know what that anger feels like, but believe me when I say that I do understand."

They never break eye contact. Raph wants to back away, but he can’t.

“Probably more than anybody else,” Leo finishes, as he reaches for something in his belt. He holds it out between them, still staring his little brother in the eye.

Raph takes a long time to glance down, but he still wasn’t prepared to see a small, indigo flower.

…or the spots of dried blood adorning it.

Chapter Text

Raph isn’t sure how much time has passed when his brother moves the flower back to his belt. “What… H-How long?” he stammers.

Leo shrugs. “Just after we met Mona and Sal.”

Raph’s jaw is practically hanging off now. “That’s almost as long as we’ve been in space.”

“I know,” Leo nods.

“And you didn’t think to tell anybody?”

“Did you?”

Raph blinks. He knows he’s being a bit hypocritical, but it feels called for considering how much longer Leo’s apparently been dealing with his own affliction.

As if reading his mind, Leo continues, “I know how to handle the meds myself, and since I know what was causing it, I curbed the symptoms pretty quickly. There are flare-ups, sure, but I think my last attack was over,” he thinks, “two weeks ago?”

Raph gives his brother a curious look. “You know why you got it?”

Leo rolls his eyes as he reaches for his belt again. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out.” He holds the flower out for Raph, who takes it like it were made of glass. He studies it as Leo continues, “Balloon flowers can have a lot of different meanings depending on the colour. The blue ones usually represent commitment or trust, but others can be given to comfort someone in mourning.”

Raph bows his head. He knows where this is going.

“And it just so happens to be symbolic to our clan,” Leo adds.

“It’s because of Splinter,” Raph concludes.

His older brother chuckles humourlessly. “I know it doesn’t really make sense. We went back in time, we know he’s okay right now, we have most of the black hole pieces sitting in the hull as we speak.” He takes a deep breath, tears starting to well up, “but all I could see when I closed my eyes was the Shredder running him through again and again and—"

He hiccups a sob, and Raph fears that he might be witness to one of the rare attacks he’d mentioned earlier. He moves to Leo’s side, offering the small flower back as rubs circles into his carapace.

Leo’s breathing slowly returns to normal, and he smiles thankfully as he takes the flower back.

He regards it as he speaks. “As sad as I was, I knew I still had to be a good leader for you guys, so I tried burying it. Obviously that didn’t work out, but when the Fugitoid showed us how the Holo-Room worked, I thought using it would be the best way to feel my feelings without dropping the façade, so to speak.”

Raph nods. “That’s why you’re in here all the time.”

“Yeah,” Leo confirms, as he starts meandering around the open space. “Sometimes I cry, or yell, maybe run across the city. Most of the time I just meditate with Sensei and talk about how I feel or how crazy everything is right now. It might not be the best outlet, but it is private, and, most importantly, it works.”

Raph understands what he’s getting at. “So, you’re saying I should just be angry in the simulator?”

Leo stops near the door, facing him. “If it helps.”

Raph sighs, moving toward his brother once more. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you told me about this, and I’m honestly relieved to know that you’re not just deluding yourself in here everyday, but we gotta be honest. Your sadness isn’t a danger to the others, and it really isn’t something you need to get rid of. My anger, on the other hand? Splinter’s been telling me to control it for years.”

“Controlling it doesn’t mean you ‘get rid of it’,” Leo quotes. “I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

“I thought I was doing pretty well.”

Leo scoffs. “Except for the part where it was hurting you. Repressing it doesn’t mean it’s actually gone.”

“No shit,” Raph bites. “That’s why I try to get it out during battle.” He feels like this should be obvious by now.

“But you’re not always angry when you fight.”

Raph’s brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

“Raph,” Leo chuckles, “you love fighting. It’s practically meditative for you. There might be some anger, especially when it comes to the Foot, but I’d say you’re usually your happiest when you’re hitting something.”

“If you’re so sure of that, then how’s a simulated fight supposed to help me?” He gestures to the empty room behind him.

“Because it’ll focus on what you’re truly angry at.”

Raph crosses his arms, trying not to look as unsure as he feels. “What if I don’t know what that is?”

“You don’t have to,” Leo says, glancing about the Holo-Room. “It’ll find out for you.”

Raph recalls the Fugitoid describing the simulator as psychic. It didn’t feel as obvious when they were grappling with three different iterations of Bradford at once, but to have it searching through the deepest depths of his anger feels like a step too far. He’s never liked having outsiders digging through his mind…

…but he’s not a fan of coughing up wildflowers every couple hours either. He reluctantly decides that the simulator is at least worth a try, so long as it doesn’t start puppeteering him around the ship later.

He notices Leo getting ready to leave, and calls out before he can stop himself, “What if it doesn’t work?”

His big brother turns, with a confident look that would quell every anxiety Raph hopes he can’t see. “Then we’ll find another solution together,” he reassures. “You’re not alone in this.”

Leo hits the controls on his way out, but lingers as the door comes down between them. “For what it’s worth,” he calls, “I know you can make it work.”

The door closes with a hiss, and Raph is left in silence.

It doesn’t last long, however, as the simulator whirs to life. The orange lights of the scanner descend from the ceiling, and he can feel the second they reach his head.

His brain.

He ignores the feeling, knowing that he’s only fixating on the scan because of how stressed he is.

Stressed. Not scared.

The lights dissipate as they reach the floor, and the room falls silent once again. Raph looks around the empty space, composing his thoughts as best he can. He takes a deep breath in. “I wanna confront my anger,” he commands. “I want the source of it, no holds barred.”

Another deep breath, and he stares up at the ceiling. “I wanna know how to control it.”

The machine blips with acknowledgement, and the room is plunged into darkness.