All right, you guys wanted more for Gunshot, here it is. Well, the makings of it any how. Heh, busy as all crud with all my school work so this'll take a while so be patient (Please?). I appreciate all of your comments, they help tremendously!

-I haven't a total clue where I am going to take this one so bare with me!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the TMNT characters.

Wisp of a Nightmare

"What the hell are you trying to prove Raph? We're nearly twenty and you're still running around like some god damned crazed adrenalin junky hell bent on blowing your self to oblivion in one of your crazy ass stunts." Leonardo shook his head. The eldest stood in the doorway with arms loosely crossed and eyes full of piss fire and worry, all of which were uncovered by the absence of blue. There was nothing else that could describe the feeling that crawled up the back of his throat; he was truly disgusted with his brother. Raphael knew this, he felt it, and yet he had the balls to look his eldest brother in the eyes. His arm was outstretched allowing his younger brother to examine the wounds that adorned his entire left arm.

"Raph," for a brief moment his eyes wavered, averted to another place, any place but those burning eyes, but then he quickly looked back, finding that those same eyes weren't looking at him but another place, seemingly only known to his brother.

"Raph, have you even heard a word I said?" There was silence followed by a hiss with a trickle of blood down the side of his brother's lip. Donny had tightened the bandage that he was wrapping around Raph's upper arm. The second eldest looked up at his brother in the door way.

"Ya, Leo, I heard." It was odd hearing his voice so melancholy. Leo shook his head once more and trudged out of the infirmary. It was quite with out him there; there were no electrical hums, no Mikey bouncing off the walls, there was no sound of the tv or video games. There was just the sound of Don moving about to get another wrap for his arms.

"He's just worried about you. After Splinter died . . . We just don't want to have to burry another so soon . . ." His voice was soft, compassionate. Raph turned to look at his younger brother. He knew that Leo just worried but it still bugged the hell out of him every time he came home with a little cut or bump that his brother would flip. Sigh . . .

"What happened?" Raph glanced away.

"The bike decided to do a summersault and it wanted to take me for a ride." The turtle in red had to grin just a bit at that. Don stopped wrapping is brother's arm and raised an eye ridge.

"Pardon?"

"I was takin' a corner an' some punk ass thought it would be funny to chuck whatever it was at my bike. Well it ended up getting' caught in between the guard of the front tier and the piece of the medal that holds it there. The tire stopped movin' when I was getting' back up to speed. I got lucky enough that I saw something flyin' and I was able to wrench the bike to one side but unfortunately . . ."

"But unfortunately for you, you got your arm caught under the bike as it did its thing and you tore it up. But luckily you weren't going too fast that you didn't sever the arm. Nice. Hold this." Letting go of the wrap for his brother to place his hand over to hold it in place, Don rolled his chair over to the counter to get some surgical tape. "You're still using the nightwatcher's bike?"

"Ya, I'll take it out every once and a while just at keep her runnin' is all." Tapping the bandage in place, Don had to smile at that. Raph always loved his bikes, taking care if them more than he did himself.

"You should remodel that bike a little. The way you use them, it would be better off without that whole front section of the bike and we could just re-designed it so that objects can't get caught in it again." Raph shook his head.

Standing, Raph flexed his arm to test his new bindings. "Na, it'll be fine. The bike was given to me that way an' I plan on keeping it like that."

Don was skeptical. "All right Raph, it's your bike but promise me that you'll wear a extra protection next time."

"Ya, sure Donny, ya got it . . ."

"Promise me Raph." Don stood, unwilling to let his brother's good arm go. His eyes were pleading, innocent. Raph could only sigh.

"Sure Don, I'll do that for ya. I promise." They searched each other for a moment then he departed, leaving his little brother behind, wondering.

If only he could take it all back, take back everything that he had ever said to his brothers. To his father . . .He just wanted to make everything all right again. He should have listened to Donny. Should have listened to Leo. Hell, should have listened to Mikey but nothing could change that now. He was lying there in god knows where, slowly dieing in his own pool of blood. Everything was fading in and out. He couldn't remember much of what happened but all he knew was that he was shot and no one knew he was alive.

The Nightwatcher was lying on his stomach, bleeding from an open chest wound caused by a single bullet piercing a faulty chest plate. His helmet had fallen off some time a go leaving his head hanging open in the cool night's air, his right cheek soaking in sticky crimson liquid. Breathing began to come more shallowed, staggering as the realization came to him.

Here he was, probably going to drown in his own blood, and yet he seemed so calm. So empty. He had a bullet wound in his chest and yet there was no pain. There was nothing at all. He felt strangely hollow where the wound was but there was nothing else. He was determined not to die there, in the dark and abandoned by all reality. He was left with sorrow and regret, but there was no pain.

This can't be th' end . . . He blinked once, salten tears escaped fading eyes, falling between scars and fresh gashes that adorned his face from years of battle.

I wont die here, not now . . . A stubborn will could only hold out for so long until the body decides to give out, unwilling to comply. A gasp; then another. His breathing was labored more so than ever. Streaks of red flashed through his vision, not of anger, not this time. Pain . . .

Got to get up . . . There was no one coming. That was the plain truth of the matter. It was a done deal, his life was over.

Get up! He blinked once. He wanted badly to get up and go home. He wanted badly to just feel something.

Don't move . . . He just wanted his brothers to know he was alive but there was this voice in the back of his mind, so small that he almost missed it, screaming at him to stay put. He was becoming more weak, more lethargic. Winter was settling out side the abandoned house and the chill was starting to creep its way in between the armor and padding of his outfit.

Hot tears stung his open wounds as the thought of his brothers came to him. He was no longer in control of himself. No longer in control of his life. Time was running out and there was nothing he could do about it.