So I know that I have another story dealing with a very similar topic. That's because this was only written as an exercise to get rid of my writer's block for "Leo's Oath." Unfortunately, the writer's block remains, but I am rather fond of what came out of the exercise. It's a take from Raphael's POV under slightly different circumstances than those in "Leo's Oath." I promise to get back to the other story as soon as I can. Please read and review.
Raphael loved the city rooftops. He loved the view of the skyline and, more importantly, the city streets below it. The rooftops were the perfect place for patrolling.
However, his reason for loving it had nothing to do with patrolling. Sure, it was quite advantageous when he was in the mood to knock out some scumbags, and he was often in the mood, being the hothead that he was. But his favorite thing about the rooftops was the feeling of the wind.
It might've been silly to someone else, but when you've lived underground your entire life, wind becomes a luxury. Raphael had come to appreciate it. The feeling of the wind was exhilarating; it was one of the few things that made him feel less insignificant. When he stood up on the rooftops, looking down on the city with the wind chilling his green skin, he felt like he actually belonged to this world above.
It let him forget that he lived underground. That he was a freak. That he didn't matter to more than a handful of people (for lack of a better term) because no one else even knew of his existence. That only they would remember or mourn him after he was gone.
So on the night that an everyday lowlife had actually gotten the better of him with a sharp blade in the flesh between plastron and shell, Raphael had struggled to the rooftops with what little energy he'd still possessed. There was no way he would die in the sewers with that overwhelming feeling of worthlessness. He wanted to leave at peace.
He was lying on his shell, staring up at the sky as he tried with difficulty to breathe. He knew his lung must've been punctured, because it felt like he was drowning. He'd honestly never expected this to be his end, alone on a rooftop with a stab wound from some average punk. No brothers or father or friends. Just Raphael.
He's really miss them, wherever it was he was going—he wasn't quite sure that he bought into the whole heaven deal or if mutant turtles were even included in it anyway. But, shell, he would miss them. He half wished that he could slap the back of Mikey's stupid head again or terrorize nerdy Don or shout at bossy Leo. Actually, he would've settled for just watching TV with them, maybe a handshake or a hug even. He might've even said "sorry" or "you ain't half bad" ("I love you" in Raphael's dictionary), but, you know, only if he was forced to be nice.
They would probably be worried when he didn't turn up with the pizza he'd been fetching. They'd freak once he was nowhere to be found. He could hear Leo's agitated voice mumbling, "Not even enough courtesy to turn on his damn tracker." Of course, Leo wouldn't really mean it that way. His worry would just take over and—
The damn tracking signal! Don had just installed it into his shell cell as a distress button. Raphael half grinned, half gritted his teeth at his own stupidity and absentmindedness. He reached for his belt and found the button. Maybe he was a goner, but he could at least save his brothers some confusion by giving them a general idea of where to look for his body.
Damn, he hoped that one of them would think to search the rooftops for him. Dead bodies on rooftops weren't too common, even in a city full of crime. But Leo watched all of his brothers carefully, studying them. He probably knew Raphael so well that his search would start with the rooftops, and Raphael wasn't so sure how he felt about that. Maybe it was just another factor of why he picked fights with Leo so often. It could drive a turtle mad always having someone prying into his head like that. It unnerved him that his leader knew him better than he knew himself, but maybe he was grateful too that someone cared enough to pay attention.
Shit, he wished his last conversation with Leo hadn't been so hostile. Raphael was pretty sure he'd threatened to pound Leo's face into the wall—nice parting words. He had to appreciate the irony though. So few would remember him, yet he'd never really attempted to make memories of himself good for those who would. He was going to die as Raphael, the Biggest Jerk of a Turtle Who Ever Lived.
"I'm so… sorry… guys," he whispered as he just let go, giving in to the darkness that had been setting in. He gave up the struggle that he knew he would inevitably lose.
It was so damn dark and Raphael couldn't figure out why everything felt so strange. He felt… light. Kind of like he was floating in a pool or—no that wasn't right. He just felt weird as hell, almost a numb feeling that weighed down every muscle in his body. There was a pain in his left side, though, and a slight pressure on his left hand.
He found himself wishing that he could see where he was before realizing that all he needed to do was open his eyes. The effort elicited a dull groan from him and the lack of success deterred him from a second try. He was so tired anyway that he could just take a nap.
"Raphael?"
Of course, no one could let him just sleep, could they? The pressure on his hand increased and he realized that someone was holding it. One mystery solved.
"Raph? Can you open your eyes for me?"
He recognized the voice as Leo's, and that meant that Leo was holding his hand. Damn. He'd have to kick his ass.
It could wait until he woke up, hopefully much later.
"Raph, please."
Or not. Leo would keep nagging until he got what he wanted, and Raphael didn't feel much like rebelling at the moment, even just on principle.
He groaned again as his heavy lids fluttered open, allowing painfully bright lifht to flood his vision. He nearly shut them again, finding darkness preferable, but Leo squeezed his dand and excitedly called out his brothers' names.
Through eyes barely slit open, Raphael found his brother's relieved face. It only occurred to him just then the strangeness of the situation. Why the hell was Leo holding his hand and watching him sleep? He prepared to bitch at his older sibling, but all that came out was a mumbled, "What?"
"Don't worry, Raph," Leo told him. "You're alright. You got hurt but Don fixed you up after we found you."
Everythin began to rush back to Raphael. Stab wound. Rooftop. Distress signal. Dying. Belonging. Alone. Things he regretted saying. Death.
"Sorry," Raphael grunted, closing his eyes and squeezing his brother's hand. He hadn't died. He'd been so sure that he was a goner, that he'd die before saying sorry. He hadn't. "For… you know…"
"Me too," Leo said softly as the other two turtles came running in, closely followed by Splinter and April.
"Is he okay?" Mikey asked. "Dude, Raph, are you awake?"
Raphael moaned quietly before cracking his eyes open again to see the anxious faces of his family members.
"I am happy to see you awake, my son," Splinter said with a smile.
April gently touched Raphael's cheek. "How are you feeling, tough guy?"
"Peachy," Raphael murmured sarcastically.
"We thought that we were going to lose you," Don said as he checked the dressing on the wound.
"Yeah, but Donny here is a miracle worker," Mike boasted. "So I wasn't worried."
"Right," Don said skeptically. "You weren't freaking out at all."
"Well," Mike said sheepishly. "Maybe a little…"
Raphael noted that Don had apparently fixed an IV that was attached to the back of his right hand. It was probably responsible for that slight numbness he was feeling (or not feeling if you prefer). He wondered how long he'd been unconscious for. How long had it taken them to find him? He couldn't believe that Don had been able to save his life.
"You were a mess when we found you," April said. "It was scary seeing you like that. Never do it again, okay?" Her tone was playful, but the look in her eyes was earnest. "Casey's out trying to track down the guy who did this. Although, if you ask me, I think that big oaf of mine is just trying to pay you back for getting some action in without him."
Raphael wished that he had the energy to joke with her, but he just felt so damn tired. He shut his eyes for a second, opening them again to see that Leo was giving the others a pointed look.
"He needs his rest. I'll keep watching him,"
"But he just woke up," Mike said.
Don sighed. "Come on. Let's let him sleep."
"Rest well," Splinter said.
April kissed Raphael's forehead. "Sweet dreams."
"Feel better dude," Mike said.
Raphael opened his eyes a bit after they left. Beside him, Leo was wearing a small smile despite the troubled look in his eyes. "Now you can have your peace and quiet. Hopefully Mike won't be too noisy out there."
"You okay, Leo?" Raphael whispered.
The smile faltered. "Yeah… I was just so… You gave me a big scare. When we found you…" He paused, his eyes no longer focused on Raphael. He shook himself from some image that Raphael could not see and replaced the smile on his face. "I'm fine."
Raphael frowned but nodded.
"Sleep Raph. I'll be here when you wake."
He shut his eyes, no longer able to evade the pull of sleep. He felt relief to know that he'd survived to live another day in the sewers, a life that he'd taken for granted. It wasn't really so bad, was it. Suddenly it seemed enough to him that only these few people knew and cared for him. He sighed. He had been given a second chance to appreciate that.
"You know… Leo," he mumbled tiredly. "You… ain't half bad…"
These were the words that Leonardo heard as he approached his brother's prone form on the rooftop. He ran to Raphael and yelled his name as he dropped to his knees beside him. He held him in his arms and gently tried to shake him awake, but it was no use. With those last unconscious words, Raphael had slipped away. The lack of a pulse confirmed it.
Leonardo noticed the puddle of blood that he was kneeling in. It trailed from his brother's side only sluggishly at that point. He cried out and held his brother to himself. The younger turtle's head lolled limply on his shoulder but Leonardo only held him closer and sobbed.
Having heard the cry, the two youngest turtles jumped to Raphael's rooftop. Michelangelo dropped his nunchuku and ran to Leonardo. "What happened?"
Donatello stayed back while Leonardo shook his head. "We're too late," the genius whispered.
Donatello approached numbly as Leonardo sobbed furiously and Michelangelo begged pathetically that they do something to fix it, as if Raphael could be brought back easily. The turtles decided to bring their brother home to Splinter. Later, the family and their pair of human friends would mourn his death for months, maybe even years in the case of some.
But on the streets… Hookers kept hooking. Dealers kept dealing. People kept breathing.
Life went on.