Shatter

Raphael's head throbbed with every beat of his heart. He had been trying to sleep for hours, but in spite of the painkillers they'd given him, his discomfort wouldn't let him rest. The pain of his injuries was beginning to fade a bit, but now the sutures were starting to itch. The bandage around his head covering his empty eye socket was constricting and only made the ache in his skull worse.

He'd choked down nothing but water and orange Gatorade for three days until he'd become lucid enough to object. Now, two days later, he was managing to keep food down and the unrelenting dizziness had abated. Now the reality of what had happened was beginning to sink in.

Casey was dead.

Even in his delirium, Raph had known. He'd felt the tension and mourning saturating the air and he'd heard the hushed and broken voices even though he'd been unable to understand them. Raph couldn't remember the details of the battle and he suspected he never would. Part of him was somehow grateful that his friend's death wouldn't be forever branded on his memory; and the other part was angry and ashamed that he felt that way.

The numbers on his nightstand clock shed a dull red light across his face. 11:17 PM. The long bleak hours before morning stretched into the soundless night and the crushing weight of loss pressed heavily down on him, and the thought of staying in bed another moment was suddenly unbearable.

Raph switched on the bedside lamp and tossed back the blankets. Sitting up without Mike or Leo to help him was harder than he'd expected, and he sat on the edge of the mattress for a moment or two in a cold sweat until he'd regained his bearings. He gritted his teeth to bite back a growl of pain and rose unsteadily to his feet.

He wasn't supposed to leave his quarters and he glanced both ways when he opened his door, but saw no one. He kept one hand on the wall as he walked, both to keep himself upright and to provide guidance. His sudden lack of depth perception was disconcerting and the dizziness had returned now that he was moving, and he found himself stumbling unexpectedly.

Even though it wasn't all that late, the hallways were deserted. After their defeat - and the death of one of their commanders - the resistance needed a few days to regroup and recover. Raph was glad of the isolation. He wasn't sure he could handle soft words or sympathetic glances. Even though he knew Casey was gone, his heart had yet to believe it. He could feel the dark emptiness within his chest, could feel the vacuum Casey's death had left behind, but he felt curiously numb inside. He didn't feel the immediate rending pain he'd felt when he'd seen Splinter die...but he knew it was coming, delayed perhaps by the fact that he had no memories to remind him.

He hadn't had a specific destination in mind when he'd left his room - he'd just had to go - but he wasn't surprised when he found himself standing in the garage that he and Casey used to maintain some of the vehicles. The concrete-floored bay wasn't large, but it easily held a few armored trucks...and had left enough room in the back corner for a still that the two of them had put together. April tolerated it with mingled amusement and mild exasperation, but since it had never caused a problem she never voiced any real objection.

Raph made his halting way past the vehicles and lowered himself to sit on a stool next to the table that held the still. There was still a good amount of moonshine left over from the last batch Casey had started. Raph picked up one of the glass jars and held it up to the light, swirling the clear liquid around. The sharp smell of home-brewed alcohol stung his nose, mingling with the familiar scents of gasoline, motor oil, and rubber tires.

Raph lifted the jar. "Here's to you, Case," he whispered roughly. The mouthful of liquor burned its way down his throat and made him cough. His healing body wasn't ready for the liquid jet fuel Casey called gin, but he caught his breath and drank again. He knew it was a bad idea; God only knew what the booze would do when it hit the considerably strong painkillers already in his system, but being in the garage was triggering a flood of memories about his dead friend and the numb space inside him was beginning to awaken with a deep, wrenching sorrow.

He did his best to drown the agony with the burn of alcohol, and when the jar was empty he reached for another. Some small part of his mind told him he should stop, but he drained the second jar faster than the first. By the time the jar was empty, Raph was shaking, and he listed on his stool to lean heavily on the table. The gin scorched through him, throwing him off balance and blurring his vision.

"Raphael?...Sir…?"

Raph lifted his head to see the pale face and wide eyes of one of the guards making his evening rounds. "Get out," he snarled.

"Sir, I think - "

"Get out!"

The soldier hurriedly retreated and Raph turned his back to the door. He reached for a third jar but his hand was clumsy and the jar slipped from his fingers to shatter on the floor. A frustrated growl rumbled in his throat, but the pitch changed and he could hear himself keening as his grief finally tore out of him. He couldn't stop it. The keening grew louder until it became a roar, and he swept the remaining jars off the table with a tinkling crash. The still was next, metal and glass buckling under his fists as he tore it apart. Raph hurled the broken pieces of the still against the wall one after another, wanting to lose himself in the rage. He hooked his hands underneath the solid wooden table and overturned it.

The abrupt movement proved too much for his impaired equilibrium. He slipped on the spilled gin, staggered, and fell backwards…

...into Leonardo's waiting arms.

Leo sat up with a jerk as urgent knocking rattled him awake. An involuntary hiss of pain escaped as the movement tugged at the sutures in the trio of deep slashes that had been carved in his right thigh - frighteningly close to the femoral artery - but he didn't allow it to slow him down. He slid his mask over his head and grabbed a katana on his way to the door, swinging it open to see a security guard standing in the hall, looking anxious and out of breath from running.

"What is it?" Leo asked.

"Sir, it's Raphael. He left his quarters and he's in the truck bay…" The man gulped a little. "...and when I left, it sounded like he was going to tear the place apart."

"What?" Leo tossed the katana onto his bed and stepped into the hall, hurrying in the direction of the garages. "Go wake Michelangelo and have him meet me there," he ordered.

"Already done, sir. I sent someone to get him. Here he comes now." The guard pointed down another hallway and Leo saw his brother striding toward him with an anxious look on his face, a second guard trailing close behind him.

"Sounds like someone broke parole," Mike said dryly.

Leo sighed, frustration and worry tangling in equal measure in his chest as the distant sound of shattering glass reached his ears. "Sounds like someone is breaking more than just parole." He waved the guards away. "We'll take it from here, guys. You did the right thing. Just keep everyone else away, all right?"

Down the hall, the sound of Raph crying out reached Leo's ears and he broke into a run, Mike close behind. The turtles pulled up short as they entered the garage, staring in alarm at Raphael. Their brother was in a blind rage, smashing the still apart with his bare hands.

Leo's breath caught in his throat as he watched Raph pick up one of the large distilling chambers and hurl it at the wall. "Raphael!"

Raph didn't hear him. He flung a mass of coiled copper tubing across the room, then grabbed hold of the table and overturned it.

Mike saw him start to fall. "Leo - !"

Leo was already moving. He lunged forward, dodging around the debris, and caught Raph as he fell. Leo wrapped his arms around Raph's chest to haul him close against his body, half-carrying him away from the glittering shards of broken glass that littered the floor. Raph growled wordlessly and elbowed him hard in the stomach - hard enough to crack ribs if Leo hadn't had a shell. Leo grunted a little but didn't let go. "Raph, stop!"

"Lemme go, Leo!" Raph slurred. He fought against his brother's confining hold, but his strength was gone. He sank to his knees, trembling and panting for breath, still pushing weakly at Leo's chest. "Lemme go…"

Leo caught the strong smell of gin and he knew it wasn't just coming from the broken still. "Oh, Raph, you idiot," he sighed sadly. He looked up at Mike. "He's three sheets to the wind. Maybe four."

"Is four even possible?" Mike knelt beside his brothers, looking worriedly into Raph's face. Raph blinked hazily at him, then twisted out of Leo's arms and leaned towards Mike. Leo let him go this time, swallowing back the hurt welling up inside him. Raphael was rarely drunk - if anything, he and Casey would get a little buzzed from time to time, an occurrence that had happened less and less as the war got worse (and as Shadow Jones had gotten older). Under the influence of alcohol, Raph tended to be clingy, which was often humorous; but he also tended to be bluntly honest, which had become less humorous as the years went on. Leo and Raph had been slowly drifting apart ever since Splinter had died, so it didn't surprise Leo that Raph would pull away from him now. He didn't try to stop him.

Now, though, Raph wasn't consciously aware of his actions. Drunk, hurting, and still disoriented from his head injury and pain medication, his control was utterly shot. He sagged bonelessly against Michelangelo, shaking with silent sobs. Leo could tell that Raph's weight was pressing uncomfortably on the cracked ribs that one of the Karai-bots had given Mike, but Mike didn't flinch. He curled his arm around his grieving brother and just held him. "Aw, Raph. Maybe we shoulda seen this coming, huh?" He looked back at Leo, worry clouding his eyes. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Leo's mouth tightened as he ran a careful hand over the bandaged head. "Well, his little remodeling gig didn't do his concussion and skull fracture any favors. I don't think we'll really know anything until he sobers up." Leo gently picked up Raph's hands one at a time, frowning in concern as he saw the fresh cuts and bruises from the destroyed still. "It doesn't look as if he's broken anything," he said finally. "And I don't think he'll need any stitches. But we'd better get him out of here and cleaned up."

Mike leaned forward a bit, trying to see his brother's face. "Raph? You think you can get up, bro?" Raph didn't respond. "I think he's out, Leo."

Leo frowned worriedly. "Right now I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Come on, let's just go." He slid one arm under Raph's knees and the other behind his shoulders, then lifted him off the ground. The wounds in his leg burned with the effort and he had to lean on Mike to steady himself.

"You got him?" Mike asked.

"Yeah. Go on ahead and make sure there's no one hanging around, okay? Raph wouldn't want people to see him like this." Mike nodded once and vanished out the door. Leo sighed again, shifting Raph closer against his chest as he started the trek back to his brother's room. "You'll be okay, Raph," he said softly. But he wasn't sure if his words were an order, a plea, or just wishful thinking.

The roaring pain in his head was the first thing that registered on Raph's awareness. He shrank back from it at first, unable to bear it, but he knew he couldn't stay in oblivion. It was hard, slogging through the darkness that covered his mind like thick tar, but eventually he fought his way back to consciousness. He found himself in his own bed, blinking dazedly at the ceiling. A bag of saline hung on an IV pole near his head, trailing a line of clear tubing to the catheter taped into the back of his hand.

"Raph?"

He flinched, startled by the unexpected voice, and he followed the sound to see April sitting in a chair next to his bed. Her face was pale and haggard, and although her eyes were dry, they were red from crying.

Had he seen her since they'd lost Casey? Raph couldn't remember. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but couldn't produce a sound out of his parched throat. April reached for a bottle of water waiting on the nightstand and gently lifted his head to help him drink, then eased him back onto the pillow. Her cool hand rested on his forehead and seemed to draw some of the fierce pounding away.

"Thanks," he managed.

"You had us worried," she said in a low voice.

Raph frowned a little. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

Raph tried to concentrate. His thoughts were slippery, and trying to pin them down was exhausting...but after a moment or two, he remembered: his unauthorized trip to the garage, drinking until his blood burned, destroying the still. He had a vague impression of Leo and Mike coming in, but after that, his recollection disappeared into darkness.

April could see his expression change as memory returned, and some of the worried lines around her eyes faded a little. "Well, we should be thankful for small favors. The doctor was worried you might have permanent problems with short-term memory loss." She enfolded one of his hands in both of her own, careful not to disturb the bandages. "Raph. You can't do this again." Her voice was gentle, but her tone brooked no argument.

Her gaze held no accusation, but he couldn't meet her eyes and he turned his face away. "I'm sorry," he said in a choked voice. Sorry for the trouble I caused, sorry for worrying you, sorry that I couldn't protect Casey, sorry that we weren't enough to beat the Shredder, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry…

"I know," she whispered. She squeezed his hand a little, and the vise around his heart eased just a bit at the knowledge that she'd understood everything he'd meant to say in his weak apology, and that she didn't blame him. He wasn't sure he could dismiss his guilt so easily.

April squeezed his hand again to get his attention. "Raph, look at me." She waited until he obeyed, then leaned in closer and said, "Did you hear me? You can't do this again." Her voice was soft, devoid of anger, but he felt the reproach as deeply as if she had scolded him. "If not for your own sake," she continued, struggling to keep her voice steady, "and if not for your brothers, then for Shadow and me." Her eyes filled with tears, and Raph realized with a jolt that she was actually afraid for him. This wasn't just the familiar sisterly concern she showed whenever he went out on patrol. Raph himself knew he wasn't in any danger; he hadn't meant to get himself blind drunk five days after his brush with death…

...He hadn't meant to, but it had happened, and April was afraid it would happen again. She wouldn't have thought it of him a few years ago. His heart thumped heavily in his chest. Had he really changed so much?

"I won't," he promised, curling his fingers around her hand.

"Good." She gave him an unsteady smile that was painful to see. "Because we can't lose you, too." Her smile faltered and she started to cry.

Raph struggled to sit up. The world lurched around him and the movement sent such a fierce spike of pain through his head that he thought he might be sick, but he braced his free hand against the wall - careful not to dislodge the catheter - and managed to haul himself upright. He gave her hand a little tug and she moved over to sit beside him, pulling a fold of the blanket up to hide her face. "I don't know what I'm going to do without him," she said brokenly.

Raph put his arm around her shoulders as she cried. "I don't either," he forced out. He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, but he wasn't sure he believed it anymore. Losing Casey was losing a brother, and the gaping hole that Donatello's disappearance had left in his heart had just been smashed open wider.

Casey had been the one constant, his sounding board, understanding listener, and the one to talk him down after arguments with Leo, or when tension arose between him and Mike. Raph was on his own now, and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. The soul-deep ties between him and his brothers were fraying, and none of them seemed to know how to get things back to normal.

No, Raph couldn't tell her that things would be all right. He couldn't even tell her that he believed they'd win in the end. He wondered if Mike and Leo would be angry with him if they knew he thought that way. Even so, he wasn't planning on giving up. He couldn't see a way out, couldn't see anything that he could do to make things better, but he could keep fighting.

After a few moments, April took a deep breath and fought back her tears. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that." She attempted to dry her eyes on the blanket and lifted her head to look him over. "How do you feel? Do you need anything?"

A fresh surge of guilt washed over him. Her husband had just died, and yet here she was trying to take care of him because he'd done something stupid. "Nah, I'm - I'm okay," he said. It wasn't exactly the truth, but it would be, eventually. "You don't have to stay here. I didn't mean to get you stuck with me."

Her brows drew together in a shadow of the affectionate scolding expression she used to give him. "Raph, I am not 'stuck'. I'm here because you needed someone to look after you, and I wanted to be here. And because Leo was ready to fall asleep and slide right off the chair onto the floor."

"...Leo was here?"

"Of course he was," she said gently. She sighed a little and leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "Raph, you know that Casey kept your confidence. He didn't tell me the details of what you guys would talk about, but I know how much he helped with you, Leo, and Mike."

Raph swallowed hard and dropped his gaze. "I never asked him to keep stuff from you."

"I know you didn't. But he respected your privacy. I know that nobody can take his place, but if you ever need to talk, I'm here. Don't give up on Mike and Leo, okay? And yes, before you ask, I had the same talk with them," she said, keeping her tone light to let him know she wasn't reprimanding him.

"Thanks." Raph sighed sadly at the mention of his brothers, but nodded once. "I'll try."

She gave him a sad little smile. "That's all I ask."

Raph leaned his head back to rest against the wall. The past several years had swept him and his family along as if they'd been caught in turbulent rapids. He'd been fighting so hard to keep his head above water, but every loss and every defeat was harder to come back from.

April sighed a little, the quiet sound drawing Raph out of his dismal musings. "Do you need to go?" he asked.

"No. Mike's watching Shadow and he said he'd stay with her as long as I needed him to. And if you don't mind, I'd like to just sit here for a little while," she said, voice quivering as fresh tears threatened to spill over.

Raph didn't speak, but he hugged her a little closer by way of answering. Hearing April cry hurt him more than his own sorrow, and it killed him to know there was nothing he could do about it. He also knew it wouldn't be long before he'd have to deal with the aftermath of their defeat and Casey's death and his brothers. Leo would probably have a thing or two to say about the incident with the still, he thought with a wince - but for now, he shied away from those thoughts, too exhausted and too dejected to face it now. He retreated into the forgetfulness of sleep, hoping against hope that, when the time came, he would be strong enough.