Title: Dropping Gloves
Summary: [Hockey!AU] As an injured Raphael gears up for what may be his last game, he can't help thinking back on how it all began.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership ties to the TMNT fandom or anything I may reference. Any pending references made to the NHL or any hockey team or organization is non-profiting and done with utmost respect, and I have no ownership ties to them either. Simple fan, writing simple fanfiction.
Author's Note: TMNT Hockey!AU. It just makes sense! Had this written a while ago, but I scrapped it, and I'm re-writing it. ENJOY!
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[PROLOGUE]
The first time setting foot in a locker room to such a major organization, the room always seemed so huge, no matter how many large, heavily-padded hulks occupied it. Nostalgic folks might say that such a thing never changes; the room is forever enormous and imposing but somehow feels a little more like home after each game. But, in truth to a particular athlete, the locker room felt too small. Musky. With thick, cloyingly sweet air that nearly choked him with each breath. There was plenty of room, yet he was sandwiched between two bodies- teammates. That was fine, and he supported the implication: that they were going into the game together, win or lose. As partners. Teammates. Family. Sharing a bond that could only be formed through blood, sweat, tears, and countless spills on the ice. Victories and blunders. The static silence of a play blown dead or the blare of the goal horn.
All this aside, it was so hard to breathe, and even harder to think. Yet he laced up his skates, crammed his two-toed feet into something made to accommodate humans, hence why he always ordered a size larger. Already padded up, sweater on, helmet at the ready, he felt the same nervous energy he always felt pre-game. That energy screamed for an outlet, and he expertly reigned it in with only mild jitters escaping as he mentally affirmed his resolve.
Today was a big game. The outcome would decide whether or not they made the playoffs.
Though, that wasn't the only thing on his mind. He still hadn't recovered from that last upper body injury, but he'd proven that he could still skate unhindered and shoot a puck with fervor. His team needed him, and he refused to let them down. This was his chance to prove to everyone- and more importantly, himself- that he'd chosen the right path in life. He wasn't just a meathead. Not just a jock who caught a lucky break. Not just a lump of muscle on skates. He was more. More than a barbarian wielding a stick. And the finesse with which he and his team played on a good day, was validation enough. Absolutely glorious.
With this in mind, he turned his focus to his team. His linemates. Those who would battle alongside him as they ushered one another that much closer greatness.
He looked to his team captain, Leonardo.
Leo's face was a mask of determination, but it was obvious to anyone who new him on a personal level that anxiety was tearing at his insides. The only evidence visible, however, was the small crease in his browline, and the way his mouth was closed into a tight, firm line.
He looked to his team's alternate, Donatello.
Don's own expression was a wash of calm, portraying nothing of his own worry, but the small telltale signs were there in his subtle twitches. The way he seemed to shift every now and then, and the ever-tightening grip he had on the shaft of his stick.
He looked to his team's own personal heart, Michelangelo.
Mikey had nothing to hide, with his large beaming smile and excitable bouncing as he secured the blockers and mitts that completed his goaltender gear. He was a living ball of energy, ready for anything that would come his way, be it puck, stick, or the body of a large mutant. Confidence was second only to his infallible cheer and encouragement.
And he, Raphael, simply tried to steel himself for what was to come. His heart hammering, head pulsing. Nerves fighting inside, twitching and bucking and pulling, as if trying to escape his very being. He willed them away with calming breaths. He busied himself by popping his custom mouth guard into place and biting down on it harder than usual, almost gritting his teeth in an attempt to ignore the sharp twang of pain that tore through his shoulder when he moved wrong.
A remnant of ache from his last injury. But he'd always been a fast healer- a credit to his mutated genes.
His time on the ice would be limited, he knew, but he'd give it his all.
He had to.
For his team. For himself. And for the parental figure who would never get to see him play...
Closing his eyes and inhaling the familiar musk of the locker room, ear slits taking in the sounds of his teammates as they went through their own rituals of getting ready, he couldn't ward off the memory of how it all began.
The memories burned as they surfaced. Hazy, yet somehow vivid. Like an old movie.
Memories of himself as a child, practically an orphan. Alone. Mad and angry at the world. And, somehow, for all the fire and passion inside his little body, something as simple as ice became his salvation.
And it all started... with a man named Casey Jones: the closest thing Raphael ever had to a father and mentor.
...
Positions:
Leo- Center (also Captain)
Raph- Right Wing
Mondo Gecko - Left Wing
Leatherhead - Right Defenseman
Don- Left Defenseman (also Alternate)
Mike- Goaltender