Hello all, okay I know Christmas was yesterday, but whatever, it's still the 'holiday season' so enjoy!:)
A giant thank you to Amonraphoenix for the idea for this fic and for beta reading it for me, you are awesome! Merry Christmas!
A/N Still don't own the Turtles...*sniff*
The snow fell softly; like tiny stars falling from the heavens to grace the earth with their intricate beauty and presence. But the snow -unlike the stars that light up the night sky- rarely stays pristine and bright, and oftentimes becomes tainted, grey, and filled with dirt, rocks and sand.
The snowflakes dancing on the wind, lazily drifted to the ground almost unnoticed. A fine dusting of snow covered the motionless figure that lay on the cold asphalt of the darkened alley. The snow was crisp and clean, unblemished but for the crimson stain that lay starkly against the pure whiteness; a horrifying contrast of fresh, warm, living blood, and the cold pitiless, snow filled December night. The soft strains of Silent Night drifted in on the frigid, merciless breeze, an overshadowing, keening wail of grief drowning out the beautiful, reverent carol.
Michelangelo smiled with glee as he placed the star at the top of the Christmas tree. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he climbed down the ladder and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
All of the decorations had been put up; the stockings hung on the handle of a broom stick and slung between the couch and the love seat; the freshly cut tree -now filling the living room with the sharp, pleasant smell of pine- was decorated with ornaments and garland.
Michelangelo glanced over his shoulder at his brother who looked at the tree with approval.
"Nice job, Mikey." Leonardo said with a smile.
Donatello studied the tree and frowned. "It's missing something, Mikey." Donatello reluctantly admitted, a perplexed look on his face as his eyes scanned the tree again, searching for whatever it was that Michelangelo had forgotten.
"What do you mean missing?" Michelangelo cried in a distraught, baffled voice. "I hung the wreath and the bows on the wall, and I even put up the mistletoe for you in case April walks underneath it."
Donatello blushed at the suggestion and gave an embarrassed cough. "April's taken Mikey, remember, she's dating Casey."
Michelangelo shrugged . "Doesn't mean you still don't like her." He pointed out giving his brother a knowing wink. Donatello's cheeks darkened further with embarrassment as he studied the tree again.
"That's not it, Mikey." Donatello shook his head, diverting the attention from him and back to the problem at hand.
"I have Christmas carols playing, and there's eggnog and gingerbread cookies on the table." He began to tick off the points on his fingers. "And I hung up strings of lights... Oh, the lights." Michelangelo said as he dashed forward. "Drum roll, please." Michelangelo requested, finally doing his own drum roll, since his brothers were not offering up their own voices. He plugged in the tree's lights and smiled at the multi-coloured lights that now illuminated the tree.
"There." He said triumphantly as he held out an arm towards the tree.
"It's beautiful, Mikey, you did a great job." Leonardo said encouragingly, his smile again transforming his usually serious face.
"That wasn't it, Mikey." Donatello rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his face breaking into a devious grin which was uncharacteristic of Donatello, who also seemed to be enjoying the Christmas mood -enough to be pulled away from his lab to enjoy the Christmas festivities. "You forgot Christmas Blanky to go under the tree."
Michelangelo's face lit up with mischievous glee. He looked around furtively. "Where's Raph?" He asked in a conspiratorial whisper as he shut the Christmas tree lights off.
"Training with Master Splinter." Leonardo quickly answered. "He didn't take losing that gang of thugs last week very well."
"Yeah well, they kicked his shell, course he's mad." Michelangelo observed with a nod, his face shifting to serious as he remembered his brother coming in after a night of going off on his own; limping, bleeding, battered and bruised from head to toe. Luckily Raphael's pride and ego were hurt more than his body, but he had been in a foul mood ever since, not even getting into the Christmas spirit at all. "But it's still weird seeing Raph act like Leo, rather than the other way around."
Leonardo grimaced and gave Michelangelo a disapproving look before shrugging and giving a slight nod of acknowledgement.
Michelangelo's face broke into a mischievous grin again. "But all the better for us, because that means we can get into Raph's room." He insisted, his grin widening with anticipation and devious delight.
"You think he hid it in his room?" Leonardo asked, raising an eye ridge in doubt. "Last year he had it stashed in the garage under all of the shams he uses for polishing his bike."
"Trust me. Raph put Christmas Blanky in his room because he doesn't think we would dare step foot in there." Michelangelo said rubbing his hands together as the adrenalin rushed through his veins at the thought of storming -or in this case- sneaking, into Raphael's bedroom without his hot-headed brother catching him.
"Because it's true, Mikey." Donatello pointed out logically.
Michelangelo cracked his knuckles, undaunted by the terrifying task that lay before him.
"Mikey..." Leonardo's voice warned.
"See, what you guys don't know, is that Raph still uses Christmas Blanky." He whispered secretively.
His two brothers looked at each other in shock before turning their attention back towards him, looks of disbelief written plainly across both of their faces.
"It's true." Michelangelo insisted as he lowered his voice more, forcing his brothers to lean in closer. "They say that-"
"Who says?" Donatello interrupted.
"Donny, you're ruining my story." Michelangelo pouted.
"Sorry." Donatello said lifting up his hands in surrender.
Michelangelo looked back and forth between his brothers before continuing. "They say that on dark and lonely nights you can hear Raph, wandering the halls searching for his hidden blanket, to give him comfort; his mournful cries echoing throughout the sewers."He finished his voice having taken on an ominous, spooky tone.
Leonardo and Donatello looked at each other before looking back at Michelangelo. "Really?" Leonardo inquired in disbelief.
Michelangelo burst out laughing. "Y-you sh-should see the looks on your f-faces." He said as he tried to talk through his laughter.
Leonardo crossed his arms over his chest in irritation while Donatello glared. Michelangelo waved away their disapproving looks and as soon as he was able to control his laughter, he spoke again.
"But seriously, I have been looking for that thing for over a month now and I haven't been able to find it anywhere, and I always find it. The only place I haven't looked is Raph's room, so it's gotta be there."
Leonardo clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good luck, Mikey." He said somberly as if he was going on a suicide mission, and the chances of seeing him alive again was slim to none.
Donatello squeezed Michelangelo's other shoulder in support, his face just as serious. "We'll run interference as best as we can, but we will only be able to hold him off for so long, after that..." Donatello paused dramatically. "You'll be on your own."
Michelangelo nodded solemnly as he stepped away from his brothers. "I won't fail." He promised. "I will find Christmas Blanky, if it's the last thing I do." He vowed dramatically as he turned, taking one last look at his brothers before leaving the living room, and carefully heading up the stairs to the upper level where their bedrooms were located.
His face broke into a grin as he eased his way down the hallway. Christmas Blanky always made him smile. In fact, putting Christmas Blanky under the tree had become even more fun than opening Christmas presents, and that was saying something.
Raphael would deny it with his dying breath, but when Raphael was about three years old, he used to carry around his 'blanky'. It was a plush red, satin trimmed blanket that he was unable to sleep without. Of course Raphael, eventually outgrew it, and it vanished when he was about six.
One Christmas when they were around eight, Donatello had told Raphael that Santa didn't exist, because he said it was theoretically impossible for a man to fly around the world in one night, even if he was magic. Raphael had been determined to prove Donatello wrong and had camped out under the Christmas tree, determined to capture Santa and prove Donatello wrong. When everyone had woken up on Christmas morning, they found Raphael curled up beneath the tree, hand clutched around his blanket, presents from Santa carefully arranged around the sleeping form of their brother.
Raphael had by then developed an attitude and seeing their difficult brother looking so adorably vulnerable had always been a constant source of material for Michelangelo to use against his older brother.
They had never forgotten about that day, but the years had gone by, and one Christmas about seven years ago Michelangelo had stumbled upon the blanket when he had been digging in the storage room for Christmas decorations. Just to tease Raphael Michelangelo had wrapped the now worn blanket beneath the Christmas tree as a gentle, though teasing reminder of that one Christmas.
Raphael had been less than impressed and when no one was looking, the blanket had vanished once again. It had been pure fluke that the next year Leonardo had stumbled upon the blanket again, this time stuffed into Raphael's duffel bag, where he would keep some of his workout equipment. Leonardo had told Michelangelo about it and he had waited patiently until the Christmas, hoping his brother wouldn't move the blanket -he didn't- and the blanket had then pilfered from the duffel bag and placed beneath the tree. And it had been that way each Christmas ever since.
It was a game that Raphael didn't want to play, but one that his whole family participated in anyway. They would all search for the blanket while Raphael would hide it, hoping that they wouldn't find it. The fact that Raphael kept hiding it rather than just throwing it out and avoiding the embarrassment every year meant that his brother had attached a high amount of sentimental value to the blanket. And it was a sentiment that Michelangelo was fully able and willing to exploit to the best of his abilities.
Michelangelo sidled up to Raphael's closed bedroom door and looked back down the hallway, making sure the coast was clear. Finding the hallway empty, he proceeded to turn the handle. He soon discovered that his brother's door was locked. Not that he was surprised, but still, it meant that he would be wasting time he didn't have picking the lock. He dashed across the hall and into his own bedroom. He grabbed his lock picks and ran back to Raphael's bedroom door. He double checked the hallway again before sliding the metal picks into the lock, waiting until there was a successful clicking noise, and turning the knob in one smooth motion. He ducked into Raphael's room, shutting the door quietly behind him, tucking his lock picks into his belt, and turning on the light.
His eyes scanned the room and he felt his shoulder slump before he pushed his shoulders back, determination filling him. To say that Raphael's room was a mess was being overly kind and simple. 'Mess' had been left behind a long time ago, degenerating into utter and total anarchy.
The floor was a hazardous minefield of magazines, training equipment, empty food containers, wrappers, sheets, blankets, clothing, weapons, and knick knacks. Michelangelo shuffled in a little further his foot striking something sharp and metallic. He yelped softly and picked up the offending article from the floor. He looked at the shuriken and frowned in disbelief. "Seriously, Raph?" He asked out loud in a quiet whisper as he shook his head and placed the star back on the floor. "And why are there so many clothes on the floor? We don't even wear clothes!" He asked in exasperation. Though he had to admit that out of all of them Raphael tended to wear clothing the most, as he was the one who would brave the human stores and fast food restaurants for them.
He waded through the clutter on the floor, on the lookout for other sharp and pointy objects, wondering where he could even start looking for the blanket in the chaotic mess before him. He could be stepping on it right now and he wouldn't even know it.
His eyes scanned his brothers desk, which was also covered with clothing, magazines, DVD and CD's. He opened one of the desk drawers and found it full of papers and other clutter, but no blanket. There was a bookshelf full of books that Leonardo had given Raphael, but which had never been read.
Michelangelo snooped around the bookcase and found nothing. He blew out a frustrated breath as he scanned the room again. His eyes strayed towards the bed. He hadn't looked under the bed yet, and he had hoped that he wouldn't have to, as he was pretty sure there was probably something nasty and slimy living under here. Some leftover and discarded food item had probably rolled under there and it had refused to let the mold consume it; turning instead into a flesh craving monster, intent on payback for not being completely eaten.
He waded his way to the bed and cleared an area so he could kneel down. He took a deep breath and leaned down searching the inky darkness beneath the bed for anything resembling a battered, frayed blanket. "You can do this, Mikey." He mumbled to himself in encouragement as squeezed his eyes shut, stuck his arm beneath the bed and rummaged around a little. He wondered if when he pulled out his arm, if there was going to be something, horribly frightening attached to it.
He pulled out a large first aid kit, a tool kit, a black pair of combat boots, a pair of roller blades and a half eaten sub sandwich that had so many fuzzy friends living on it that Michelangelo nearly gagged in disgust. He wiped his hand off on a piece of discarded clothing in repulsion and pulled himself up so that his arms were resting on the bed. He frowned and rifled between his brother's mattresses and only came up with some questionable reading material.
Michelangelo let out a huff of defeat, resting his chin on the bed, and staring at a poster of a UFC fighter. "Where did you put it, Raphie?" He asked quietly in frustration, wondering if Raphael had actually thrown the blanket out.
He moved his head, shifting to stand when he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. His head shot around and he stared at a tiny piece of red fabric sticking out from under the pillow of Raphael's unmade bed.
"You aren't sleepin' with it, are you, Raphie?" He asked quietly as he reached out a hand and snagged the fabric, pulling out the much worn and highly sought Christmas Blanky. Michelangelo smiled triumphantly, holding his prize aloft like some great sports trophy. "And again, Mikey takes it for the win!" He crowed victoriously.
There was a movement outside the door, someone placing a key in the lock and turning. Michelangelo leapt up, flying into the corner of his brother's bedroom and hiding behind the door.
He tried to slow his breathing as his heart hammered furiously in his chest. The door opened and Michelangelo was able to catch a glimpse of Raphael, looking grim, menacing, and dripping with sweat, a white towel thrown over his shoulders as he moved into the room.
Michelangelo didn't breathe as his brother moved more into the room, his hand still upon the doorknob.
"Raph!" Leonardo's shouted voice came from down the hallway.
Michelangelo could hear Raphael's teeth grinding together in irritation. "Piss off, Leo. I ain't in the mood to hear whatever you're preachin'." Raphael snarled.
"It's about Master Splinter." Leonardo said trying to coax Raphael from his bedroom.
"He's in the dojo if you want him." Raphael's hand was on the edge of the door, ready to close it.
"It's about his Christmas present. You have to sign your name, remember?" Leonardo tried again.
Raphael growled. "Fine." He said as he slammed the door closed as he left the room.
Michelangelo let out the breath he had been holding in a whoosh of air. "That was too close." He whispered as he opened his brother's door, peeking out into the hallway and finding it to be empty, darted quickly across the hall and into his own room. He then quickly grabbed a box, stuffing the prized blanket inside.
He then heard footsteps outside his door and the slam of a door across the hall. Michelangelo ran to his door opening it and looking down the hallway. Leonardo was standing on the steps a look of relief filling his worried face as Michelangelo gave a huge grin and a thumbs up, Leonardo smiled in return.
Michelangelo walked from his room and followed his oldest brother downstairs where he found Donatello pacing in front of the tree.
"Well?" He questioned.
Michelangelo reverently placed the box on the coffee table. "Gather around my brothers." He said as he made a beckoning motion. "I made my way across the room, booby trapped with deadly weapons, searching high and low for Christmas Blanky. I searched all through the chaotic remnants of Raphael's room, reaching my hand beneath his bed where I found horrible, unspeakable things." He said dramatically, his voice shaking with feigned horror. "I was about to give up. But then I saw it, out of the corner of my eye. I dared not hope that I could have found what I sought." He paused his brother's looking at him with a hint of irritation and impatience. "Fine, fine, you guys are no fun at all." Michelangelo huffed out as he opened the box. "I found Christmas Blanky under Raph's pillow. And I was like this close to getting caught by him!" He exclaimed holding his fingers a hair's breadth apart.
"It may not be wise to tease Raphael, my sons." Their father pointed out as he walked into the living room, admiring the decorations and the tree before finally settling on the box with the red blanket tucked inside.
"Raph needs to loosen up, it's Christmas." Michelangelo pointed out. "Besides, this is our way of showing Raph that we know he's all surly and rough on the outside, but inside, he has a big gooey marshmallow center." Michelangelo said with a Cheshire grin. "And it's Christmas Blanky, it's a family tradition!"
Master Splinter sighed in resignation. "Perhaps you are right, Michelangelo." Master Splinter nodded. "However, as I am pretending to be oblivious as to what is going on in here, I shall be in my meditation room if you need me." He said as he slowly moved off. "And the decorations look very festive, Michelangelo." He threw over his shoulder as he left the living room.
A door slammed on the upper floor. Michelangelo grinned in anticipation. He quickly pulled the blanket out of the box and laid it around the tree. He then got his brothers to stand in front of the tree with him as Raphael strolled into the living room, an angry scowl on his face. Michelangelo hit the switch for the tree, lighting it, which caught Raphael's attention. He seemed preoccupied, not even noticing them as he made his way towards the kitchen.
"Merry Christmas!" They all shouted as they moved out of the way exposing the entire tree down to its base where Christmas Blanky was laid out around the base in its place of honour.
Raphael's amber eyes took in the tree and darkened with rage as he saw the worn blanket around the base. He stomped towards the tree, snatching the blanket from the floor."Who was in my room?" Raphael growled low and dangerously, his knuckles turning white as he clutched his blanket in his fist.
"We found Christmas Blanky!" Michelangelo gloated gleefully. "Who's missing his snuggawee wuggly Blanky?" Michelangelo teased and his brother glared at him, his teeth grinding together as he opened and closed his fists menacingly. "And the rule is you have to leave Christmas Blanky under the tree until Christmas, or you have to sing four Christmas carols in a Santa hat; your choice."
"There are no rules, Mikey." Raphael snarled as he advanced towards him. "It's just something stupid you make up every year!"
"Yeah, but every year we find your Blanky, if you didn't want to play then you would just throw it out." Michelangelo pointed out reasonably as he tried not to flinch back from the unbridled fury he saw in his brother's amber gaze.
"You come into my room again, Mikey, and I swear you will be nothing but a puddle of goo by the time I get through with you." Raphael turned on his heel and stormed away, the red blanket still clutched in his hand.
Michelangelo frowned. "That was...off!" He said quietly. "I've never seen Raph so mad."
"I don't know." Leonardo said thoughtfully. "There was that one year Raphael took that extra strand of lights, tied you up, hung you from the ceiling and plugged you into the wall like a giant light fixture."
"Or that other time when Raphael used an entire roll of duct tape on you , wrapping you up from head to toe and stuffed you in your closet with a note saying 'Do Not Open EVER'." Donatello pointed out.
"Or that one year when he grabbed all of the metal snowflake ornaments from the tree and used them like shurikens and threw them at you." Leonardo added.
"Or that year when-" Donatello began but Michelangelo interrupted him.
"Okay, okay, you're right," Michelangelo agreed, "But he usually stays long enough to get even, not just threatening me and then storming off." Michelangelo observed.
"If I didn't know better, I would say you like it when Raph tries to get payback." Donatello observed with a smile.
"It's Raph's way of saying 'I love you' since you know he'd never say that out loud, ever." Michelangelo chuckled.
Leonardo snorted but nodded his head in agreement of his observation.
"Raph likes the attention." Michelangelo insisted.
"I think it's all in your head, Mikey." Donatello said a hint of seriousness entering his voice.
"Hey, I saw the way Raph was trying to suppress his grin when he lit me up like a Christmas tree with all of those lights." Michelangelo defended with a broad smile.
"Well, maybe you should lay off the teasing and the pranks for a bit, Raph doesn't seem to be in the mood right now."Leonardo warned, his voice serious and containing a hint of worry.
Michelangelo shrugged, not intending to cease any of his Christmas 'traditions' of tormenting his hot-headed brother. His brother would just have to get into the Christmas spirit, and Michelangelo had a plan to do just that.
Raphael stood on the roof of a building, his brothers standing around him as he looked at Leonardo in shock.
"Leo, I ain't goin' with Mikey." He snarled as he shook his head back and forth.
Leonardo stepped in close. "Yes you are. You've been snarky and mean to Mikey all week. It's Christmas Eve, Raph, and you two are going to work things out. You need to apologize to him." Leonardo ordered as he turned, Raphael grabbing his older brother's shoulder and pulling him back around.
"Me, apologize?!" He asked in dumbfounded shock. "He's the one who-" He began but Leonardo pushed his hand away, silencing him with a look. Raphael growled low in his chest as Leonardo turned away, vanishing with Donatello into the darkened cityscape like two fleeting shadows merging with the night.
Raphael tried to contain his anger as he turned towards his baby brother whose expression was disturbingly somber. Raphael ran a hand down his face in irritation. For the past several hours Michelangelo had done nothing but try to shove Christmas cheer down his throat, even kissing his cheek under the mistletoe when Raphael accidentally walked underneath the stupid piece of hanging plant.
Raphael had of course reacted violently, his fist lashing out towards his brother's grinning face. Michelangelo had seemed prepared for this reaction, already ducking out of the way of Raphael's angry punch. Michelangelo had then danced away, laughing his head off and seeking sanctuary in the presence of Master Splinter.
But now -looking at his baby brother's gloomy face- a wave of guilt rolled through him. He let out a huff of air. "I'm sorry, Mikey." He grumbled, though his apology didn't even sound sincere to his own ears.
He was sick and tired of the constant pranks and teasing, especially about his blanket. He would never admit to a single soul how much that stupid blanket meant to him. He knew he really shouldn't still be attached to a scrap of fabric anymore -he was 20 years old- but he couldn't seem to help it. Ever since Michelangelo had found the blanket, he hadn't been able to tuck the thing away or throw it out. He knew every single patch of worn fabric, every mysterious stain, and small tear. He even loved the missing satin edging from the one side.
The stupid blanket made him feel better -gave him some amount of comfort- because it reminded him of when his life was innocent and carefree, as opposed to filled with violence, danger and death. Holding his blanket reminded him of times spent looking forward to Christmas and the belief in good will and peace and family and presents, blissfully unaware at how dangerous their lives were going to get, or how much they were going to be hated by the humans they tried to protect.
Michelangelo's face broke into a wide grin. "Does some-wone need to cuddle with his bwanky?" Michelangelo teased impishly. "Waphael is cwanky."
Raphael narrowed his eyes, his fleeting guilt vanishing as red hot anger took its place. "Mikey-"
A freezing white ball smashed into his face, cold chunks of snow running down his neck and plastron.
He stared at his brother in utter shock. Michelangelo tossed another ball into the air catching it a few times. "You gotta lighten up, Raphie." He said as he threw it at him.
Raphael dodged the second snowball, but was hit in the shoulder by a third.
"It's Christmas Eve." Michelangelo sang as he threw two more snowballs, only one hitting its mark.
"Stop it!" Raphael roared. "Mikey I swear to you if you don't-" Another snowball hit him square in the face.
Raphael scooped up a handful of snow and launched it at his baby brother. "You are such an ass!" Raphael shouted angrily. "It's not all fun and games all the time! And who cares if it's Christmas!" He shouted furiously. "That means absolutely nothing to us! Why do we bother tryin' to celebrate something' so stupid? It's good will t'wards men, not mutants!" He threw five more snowballs, each hitting his brother either in the face or chest.
Michelangelo stepped back a few paces, trying to block the angry barrage of snowballs that were now being flung fast and furiously towards him. "We bust our shells day in and day out tryin' to protect this city, and all they do is hate us for it! And then I gotta come home and deal with your stupid pranks and your teasin' and I am so sick and tired of all the bullshit!" He roared. "I saved a woman last week, know what she did? Nearly got me killed! I come in, start beatin' up the gangland scum tryin' to mug her and I ask her if she's okay when I get most of 'em down, then she wallops me in the head with her purse!"
Michelangelo burst into unrestrained laughter. "You got beat up by a girl with a purse!" Michelangelo doubled over in laughter. "No wonder you needed to curl up with your Blanky!"
All Raphael could see was red.
He was so sick and tired of everyone either hating him, being scared of him, or being completely unaware of his existence. And that woman had nearly gotten him killed. Dazed from the blow of the purse -that he swore was filled with rocks- the gang members had proceeded to beat him with vicious abandon. The sound of police cars had been the only thing that had dispersed the gang members before they had been able to do any real lasting damage. That the woman had been more frightened of him than her attackers hurt, that she later described him as a 'horrible, frightening monster' to news crews as he sat atop a building -nursing his injuries and his pride- cut him to the bone.
His brother's laughter drove him over the edge. He began throwing one snowball after another, as fast and as hard as he could. "You are such a bastard." Raphael snarled softly, but loud enough that his voice carried through the crisp night air.
Michelangelo's eyes widened in shock, hurt wiping away his teasing smile and laughter.
"Everyone thinks I'm the self centered ass of the group, but it ain't me, Mikey, it's you!" He sneered cruelly. "All you care about is pissin' me off and trying to get under my skin 'cause you think it's funny! You think all of your pranks are funny, but they ain't, they're stupid and childish, just like you!" Raphael shouted as he advanced towards his baby brother who stopped defending himself against the barrage of snowballs he was being struck with.
"Raph, you don't-" Michelangelo whimpered, tears filling his eyes.
"No one should have to have to put up with a selfish, spiteful, jerk of a brother like YOU!" He threw his snowball as hard and as fast as he could, hitting Michelangelo right in the center of his plastron. His brother stumbled back. "I hate you." He snarled viciously as he launched another icy snowball at his brother's chest hitting him hard as he fell backwards.
Michelangelo's arms pin wheeled madly as he tried to regain his balance as he stumbled back, slipping on some ice, falling backwards and then vanishing off the side of the building.
Raphael stared at the empty rooftop in utter shock, his mind barely even able to process the fact that he had pushed his brother so close to the edge of the building without even realizing it, let alone actually causing him to stumble over the edge of the building.
His frozen body finally reacted, rushing forward as a heart stopping crack -like the shattering of bone and shell- echoed up from below. Utter silence followed the gut twisting sound, the faint strains of Silent Night was softly carried in on the winter breeze from a nearby church.
He stumbled towards the edge of the building, looking down, praying that Michelangelo's face would be looking up at his own, grinning widely as he hung from a window ledge, the loud horrifying noise he had heard only some ice falling from the ledge Michelangelo gripped.
Raphael's heart stopped beating, his breath catching in his throat as he looked over the side in horror.
Lying in the pristine white snow five stories below him, was his baby brother. Michelangelo lay unmoving, a pool of crimson flowering out from beneath him like some ghastly bloom tainting the unblemished purity of the ivory snow.
Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace...
Raphael didn't know how long he stood there, the words of the Christmas carol running hauntingly through his head, his body frozen and unable to move as his mind denied what his eyes were showing him. The reality was too horrific to accept, too unreal to believe.
"Mikey! No! NO!" He cried out, his voice breaking as he let out a keening wail of grief, tears welling up in his eyes and streaming down his cold cheeks.
He leapt over the edge hopping down to a window ledge below and leaping to a convenient drainpipe, sliding the rest of the way down as his heart beat a terrible, painful rhythm in his chest.
He stumbled to his brother's side, falling to his knees beside his brother's motionless body. "Mikey?" He choked out as his hands hovered over his brother's chest, panic and horror filling him as he tried to think of what to do and couldn't think of anything, his mind no longer functioning.
"No, no. Oh, God no." He choked out as he lightly touched Michelangelo's face, wiping away some of the cold snow from his brother's pallid cheeks. "Please be okay, please, please be okay." He whispered plaintively as a few tears rolled down his chin before landing on his brother's cheeks, tumbling down the side of his face and disappearing into the dark scarlet stain that bloomed out across the snow by his brother's right side.
His fingers flew to his brother's neck, checking for a pulse and finding one, grasped Michelangelo's shoulders and gently shook him. His brother's head lolled bonelessly to the side. "Mikey, wake up! Come on, Mikey, just stay with me. You're gonna be okay!" His panicked voice echoed in the narrow, darkened alley as the snow that had been falling thickened, the snowflakes that fell, covering his brother's body like a fine spun, delicate linen shroud.
Michelangelo remained unresponsive, the bells of a church tolling the midnight hour and the arrival of Christmas day.
Raphael shook his head in denial. His brother had to be okay because if he wasn't, if he was dying right now -right before his eyes- then it would be all his fault. He would have killed his baby brother, his last words to him full of hate and spite.
"Come on, Mikey, wake up, It's Christmas, and you are not allowed to die. We have to go home and open presents." He whispered desperately. His eyes shot to the blood that had pooled around his brother's right side. He reached over his brother's body and with a shaking hand, gently tugged the crimson blanket free from beneath his brother's carapace.
Raphael breathed out a sigh of relief. His brother had obviously managed to steal into his room and grab his blanket again and for some reason had brought it along, tucking in into his belt behind his back.
"Come on, Mikey, get up." He growled at his baby brother, tired of his brother still playing games, but too full of relief to even be angry. He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand, watching the snow lazily falling around him. The flakes were large and fluffy, the kind that built up a lot of snow in a short amount of time, but tended to be dense, heavy and wet.
His brother didn't move. Michelangelo's lips did not twitch into a lopsided grin, nor did his eyelids flutter open to reveal a playful twinkle within the rich brown depths. It was then -as he studied his brother's disturbingly peaceful face- that he noticed dark scarlet seeping from beneath his brother's head.
His heart leapt into his throat at the sight of the warm flowing blood. He dropped his blanket and carefully gathered Michelangelo's body up and into his arms. "Come on, Mikey, wake up." He murmured insistently as he looked at the bloody gash at the back of his brother's head. "No, no. Come on Mikey, you're gonna be alright, but you're gonna have ta open your eyes." He pleaded softly as he rocked his brother gently, looking around wildly for help, not knowing how serious Michelangelo's injuries were, or how to treat them.
Blood dripped down his plastron as he quickly untied his mask folding it up into a pad and placing it against the back of Michelangelo's head, trying to staunch the flow of blood. He then untied Michelangelo's mask and re-tied it around his brother's head and the makeshift pad.
Michelangelo groaned, his eyes fluttering open to reveal pain-filled brown eyes.
"I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry, Mikey. I didn't mean for you to fall. I didn't know you were so close to the edge. I didn't mean... Everything I said was a lie, so just be, okay? Please, please be okay." He begged miserably.
Michelangelo opened his mouth to speak, a tiny trickle of blood dribbling from between his pale lips. "Hurts." He managed to whimper.
"I know." Raphael whispered as he tried to keep the terrified horror out of his voice. Michelangelo could be bleeding internally and Raphael had no idea what to do.
Michelangelo's head dropped to his chest as his eyes slowly slid closed again.
"Hey, you don't get to go to sleep, so wake up." He patted his brother's cheek trying to get him to open his eyes again.
"Can't feel..." His brother's voice trailed off in pain as his eyes opened a tiny crack.
"Please don't die on me, Mikey." He whispered wretchedly as he placed his forehead on his brother's. Michelangelo had probably broken his back in the fall, the snapping of his brother's spine the noise he had heard echoing up and out of the alley.
"Not...gonna...die." Michelangelo struggled weakly, his body starting to shake. "W-who else wou-would p-rank you?" His teeth were chattering now.
Tears filled Raphael's eyes. He pulled away slightly as he tried to give his brother a comforting smile, even though he knew that there would be no comfort for him, not ever because this was all his fault. The only thing he could do was give his brother a small measure of comfort before he died. "I-I love you, Mikey, you know that, right? I didn't mean anything I said. I was just so...angry that you can always find the good and joy in everything and everyone. I'm jealous of you, and I wish I could be more like you. I don't mind your pranks. I mean I do, they piss me off, but I know you are just trying to make us all smile and have fun."
Michelangelo smiled. "Got you to say you love me." He murmured with a slight smile, his teeth stained red with blood. Michelangelo closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his gaze seemingly more clear and focused.
Raphael closed his eyes in regret, and guilt washed grief. He didn't know how he would ever be able to go on without his baby brother. Bearing Michelangelo's death would have been hard enough if he had fallen at the hands of one of their enemies, but he hadn't. He had fallen because of his brother -the one who was supposed to watch over and protect him- had been too angry to realize what he had been doing.
"Raph, I-I'm c-cold."Michelangelo stammered through chattering teeth.
"I'm so sorry, Mikey. Please just try to hang on a bit longer. I'm sure Donny and Leo will be back soon. You're gonna be fine, okay?" His voice wavered as he thought about his phone, tucked into his belt.
He moved to grab it, but Michelangelo let out a gasp of pain. Raphael froze, not wanting to move again.
"Raph, I'm n-not going t-to be fine, because I'm going t-to freeze to d-death." Michelangelo stammered.
Raphael looked at Michelangelo, stunned for a moment.
"Raph, I am l-lying in the s-snow. I'm f-freezing." Michelangelo complained.
Raphael laid his blanket over Michelangelo's quivering plastron. "Okay, okay, I'm going to try to move you..." Raphael had momentarily forgotten that his brother's back was probably broken. "Can you move your toes?" He asked gently, trying to gage his brother's injuries.
"No, b-because I-I can't f-feel my t-toes anymore." His brother grumbled.
Raphael swallowed down his growing horror over the idea that Michelangelo may be paralyzed. "Just, try, okay?"
"I am m-moving t-them, well at-t least one f-foot, I am p-pretty sure my other leg is b-broken." Michelangelo whimpered.
Raphael looked at his brother's feet and felt relief flow through him as he saw his brother's toes wiggling. "Okay, let's get you up." Raphael said gently as he pulled his brother up, Michelangelo let out a cry of pain that was like a dagger to Raphael's heart. He stopped moving, pulling as much of Michelangelo's body out of the snow and onto his lap as he could; his own knees and legs starting to freeze from the snow that he knelt in.
Raphael supported his brother as best as he could. Raphael shifted so that he was able to pull his phone from his belt. He needed Donatello, and fast. Michelangelo's injuries didn't seem too severe, though he wasn't sure. For all he knew his brother was still bleeding internally.
"Mikey's hurt, hurry!" He told Donatello as he answered his phone. Raphael then told his genius brother where they were, but not what had happened, mostly because he hadn't known what to say. He glanced over and saw where his brother had fallen. A pile of garbage bags had been hidden beneath the snow, a few broken wooden boards sticking out from beneath one of the bags.
Raphael closed his eyes in grateful relief. The boards breaking had been the snapping noise he had heard, not his brother's spine or carapace.
"R-Raph." Michelangelo's voice was soft and laced with pain.
"Yeah, Mikey?" He asked gently.
Michelangelo quirked a grin. "Merry Christmas." He said as he lifted up his hand, a corner of Raphael's blanket clutched in it.
Raphael didn't care about the blanket very much at the moment, and almost hated the scrap of red fabric; since it was the cause of everything that had happened tonight. Raphael was about to snarl something, grab the blanket and toss it back into the snow, until he saw a strip of satin, brighter and newer than the rest, covering the end where the satin had been missing for years.
"I wanted to fix it for you." Michelangelo gave a more encouraging smile as he placed the fixed corner of the blanket into Raphael's shocked grasp.
He felt tears well up in his eyes.
"And I'm sorry for picking on you so much." Michelangelo apologized sincerely. "And don't tell Leo or Donny, but I still have Mr. Bun-Bun hidden under my pillow for those days when things get really bad." He said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Michelangelo frowned and wiped a trickle of blood away from his lips.
Raphael looked at it in horror. Michelangelo shrugged away his horror. "It's okay Raphie, I just bit my tongue on the way down." He said as Raphael nodded in relief, the sound of running feet above them signalling that their other siblings were close by.
"But you know what's funny, I always wondered why there was only the one strip missing, and I finally figured it out. Master Splinter gave us all our masks, except for you. You already had yours. You took the satin from your blanket and made your first mask with it, didn't you?"
Raphael felt his face go dark with embarrassment.
Michelangelo chuckled as Leonardo and Donatello came into view. "Don't worry Raphie, your secret is safe with me." He said with a wink.
"Thanks, Mikey. I really mean that." Raphael said earnestly.
"So what'd you get me for Christmas? I hope it's a video game cause it looks like I'm going to be stuck on the couch for a few weeks."
"Mikey what happened?" Leonardo asked in concern as he and Donatello ran up to them.
"Slipped on some ice." Michelangelo quickly answered as Donatello knelt down and examined Michelangelo's head and leg.
"It doesn't look like you have a concussion, but your leg is definitely broken." Donatello pronounced grimly as he stood. " Okay, Mikey let's get you home." Donatello said gently as he used some of the boards that had broken Michelangelo's fall to splint Michelangelo's broken leg.
Michelangelo nodded and shared a knowing look, thankful his baby brother hadn't told his other brothers that Raphael had nearly been responsible for his death.
Raphael stood, scooping his brother up into his arms, Michelangelo letting out a cry of pain. Donatello grabbed the red blanket that had fallen into the snow.
"Be careful with him, Raph." Donatello warned. "He's in a lot of pain, and any movement you make it going to hurt him." Donatello then draped the blanket over Michelangelo's still shivering form to keep him warm before darting ahead with Leonardo to get the infirmary ready.
Raphael began trudging through the snow, Michelangelo biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain, his body tense and rigid. "It's okay, Mikey, I ain't gonna drop you or let you fall." Raphael told his brother gently. Michelangelo nodded weakly laying his head against Raphael's shoulder, his eyes scrunched tightly closed.
Raphael tried distracting his injured baby brother. "Hey, Mikey, next year you ain't gonna be able to find my blanket." He challenged, clutching the edge of his blanket tightly in determination, a newfound sentimental memory attached to it.
"I am totally going to find it, Raph." Michelangelo answered his eyes opening, the light of determination filling them, along with a mischievous twinkle.
"No you won't" Raphael shot back.
"And if I do?" Michelangelo countered.
"You can keep Christmas Blanky under the tree until the tree comes down."
"Deal," Michelangelo agreed quickly.
"And if you don't find it, you have to sing four Christmas carols at the top of your lungs from the roof of April's apartment building." Raphael challenged with a smile.
"Deal." Michelangelo replied with a grin his body finally relaxing.
Raphael smiled.
"Oh and, Raphie, I expect to be waited on hand and foot." His brother's voice was softer, but containing a hint of a grin.
"Oh, yeah? Well you can just-" Raphael's voice trailed off as he looked at his brother's face, eyes closed, breathing heavy. Raphael sighed knowing his brother had passed out from the pain."Merry Christmas, Mikey." He said as he watched the snow gently floating around him, the soft strains of We Wish You a Merry Christmas drifting in on the breeze.
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