Summary: A short story set near the end of Redemption and before Retribution. Raphael comes to terms with his injuries and tries to make up for past mistakes.

Disclaimer: All rights belong to their respective owners.

A/n: I've been working on this idea for a while now, and have only just come back to it. Reading what I have so far, I decided I was happy enough to post the first chapter. This is only a small side-fic, so it will probably be only 3-4 chapters long. If you have not read Redemption, this piece will make no sense to you at all. If you are interested, I suggest you read it first, though it is a bit of a lengthy story. This story takes place lose to the end of Redemption, in a few chapters where we don't fully see Raphael's recovery, and is also set before the start of Retribution.

Recompense

It was agonising, at first. Don had told him it would be, that his rehabilitation would take time, and that he would have to take it slow, but Raphael didn't like to take things slow. He was impatient, to say the least, which often led him into trouble, and in hindsight, was the reason behind his current predicament.

He sat perched gingerly on the end of his bed, scared fists clutching the rumpled bed sheets in pain. He clenched his teeth, forcing the groan of pain that wanted to escape back down his throat. He would not be weak. He would not show his pain. More importantly, he wanted to show that he was not a cripple.

"Take it easy, Raph," Don said gently from where he stood a few metres away from the bed, waiting to catch Raphael if he fell. "Your wounds are still healing. You don't need to do this today. Maybe after a few more weeks of physiotherapy."

"I can do this," Raphael growled, his single eye glaring at Don sharply. "I'm not an invalid."

"I never said you were," Don said, trying to keep his hot-headed brother calm. "But you're still recovering. There is no shame in asking for help."

"I don't need help," Raphael said firmly, focusing on the wall in front of him. All he had to do was get up. It was a simple thing to do. He had to do it. He had to prove to his brothers that he was ok, that he was getting better and didn't need to be fussed over anymore, like a sick puppy.

Leo and Mikey stood silently by the door to his room. Mikey couldn't look him in the eye, not when he was like this. Raphael knew it was because Mikey didn't want him to see the pity in his eyes, and that killed Raphael more than he cared to admit. Mikey was his little brother. He looked up to him, protected him. To Mikey, he was his big, strong brother; fearless and unbreakable. Now Raphael feared all he saw was a failure, a hothead, and a cripple.

He shifted his weight, slowly pushing himself upwards using his arms. He hated how hard it was, how the small movement stole so much of his energy, and how his arms shook under the strain. Clenching his teeth in a silent scream, Raphael pushed himself agonisingly to his feet.

As soon as he was standing upright he felt like he was going to pass out. He wobbled dangerously, his sense of balance no longer in existence. He felt like he was going to throw up and his head swam dizzyingly. His whole world was tilting out of control and there was nothing he could do to stop it. What was left of his right leg screamed and burned in pain. He felt his leg give out completely. He had no idea how to dispense his weight through his knew prosthetic, and he tilted forward, arms out-splayed to catch himself.

But he didn't need to. A pair of strong, familiar arms caught him before he hit the ground. Voices echoed loudly in his ears, but he couldn't make sense of them. Black dots danced in his vision as images blurred above him. He felt more hands on him and the next thing he knew he was lying back in his bed, propped up against a mountain of soft pillows. His breathing was ragged and weak, and he only just noticed his whole body was shaking and sleek with sweat. He closed his eye and groaned. He was weak, so weak. He could only imagine what his brothers saw at that moment; a weak shadow of his former self. A weak shadow that couldn't even stand up without passing out. Try as he might, Raphael couldn't stop the single tear that escaped and rolled down his cheek.

"It's okay, Raph, we can try again later," Leo said, resting a comforting hand on Raphael's shoulder.

Raphael couldn't look at him. He didn't want to see the pity in his brother's eyes.

"Please leave," Raphael whispered huskily, his voice cracking despite his best efforts to sound like his usual gruff self.

"Raph…" Don started.

"I said leave!" Raphael yelled, all the anger, all the frustration he had been trying to hold back, pouring forth in an anguished wave.

His brothers shared a quick glance, the concern obvious in their eyes. It sickened Raphael. But they left. Turning, they left the room, quietly closing the door behind them.

When the door was closed firmly behind them, Raphael bowed his head and did something he never did.

He wept.

He dreamt that night, of terrible things; things in the dark, waiting for him; a grisly nightmare. He had had the same dream ever since he had woken up, groggy and confused on Don's make-shift surgery table. He dreamed of many things, all blurring together into a single, painful reality. He dreamt of that night, so long ago, when he had fought with Leo.

"I'm done with you, I'm done with all of you!"

Raphael remembered the harsh words he had shouted, remembered the shocked and hurt look that crossed his brother's face. He dreamt of the roar of his bike as he sped down the highway. It was so realistic he could almost feel the rush of the wind on his skin. He liked this part of the dream. It was peaceful and serene; him alone in the vast night, riding under a blanket of stars, nothing but him and the open road ahead of him. This part of the dream didn't last very long though; just long enough to lull Raphael into a false sense of security. The peacefulness shattered with a loud bang, and then Raphael was no longer on his bike, but soaring over the handlebars. It still felt realistic in his dream, the feel of slamming into the tarmac, of crushing his leg under himself. He tumbled across the road before his dream shifted once more.

Now he was lying in a dark forest, covered in blood and sweat; lost, in pain and alone. He called out to his brothers, but his echoes died around him, swallowed by the shadows. He dream changed again, almost like it had been switched on to fast forward, and all he saw was a montage of images that flashed behind closed eyelids. There were blurred images of his brothers, of April and Casey, leaning over him and shouting, but he couldn't make out the words. He dreamt of Bishop, of the wicked smile he flashed him. He dreamt of pain, of a hot iron poker descending towards his eye, before his dream was filled with screams.

He dreamt of his brothers, bound and gagged, drowning right in front of him. He remembered quiet moments of tears and heartache. Then the final part of his dream; he was held against a sweaty chest, a knife pressed against his throat.

"Raph, no!"

He dreamt of being pushed, of falling, falling, falling into the dark abyss, and the heartless laughs of his brothers.

Raphael awoke with a strangled gasp. He clutched the bed sheets in his fists, the feeling of falling still fresh in his mind. His whole body shook, and he was coated in sweat. His breathing was ragged and he felt the warm trail of salty tears on his cheeks.

Raphael sat up, wiping away the tears. He always had that dream, that nightmare, and it always ended the same. The callous laugh of his brothers rang in his ears. They wanted you to die.

"Stop it," Raphael whispered to himself, covering his ears.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Raphael fought to push away the remanets of the dream. A familiar yet unwanted feeling pooled in Raphael's gut. He needed to go to the bathroom. Usually, this wasn't a problem, and was little cause for concern, however because Raphael could barley stand, let alone walk, the simple task had grown in complexity. He had had this problem before after the accident, and would usually have to call upon one of his brothers, usually Leo, for assistance. However tonight was different. Raphael was determined to do this on his own.

Gritting his teeth in determination, Raphael carefully swung his legs over the bed and gripped the bed sheets tightly in his fists. Not waiting to change his mind, he pushed himself heavily to his feet. Agonising pain swept through his leg and Raphael had to bite his tongue to stop his scream. He felt dizzy and light headed, and he wobbled unsteadily on his feet. Trying to calm his breathing, Raphael squeezed his eye shut and waited for the initial shock to pass. After a few minutes, he started to feel normal again, and the swaying on his feet was less apparent. Opening his good eye, Raphael held his breath and took a slow, shaking step forward. The pain rushed back and he stumbled, catching himself on the wall. Hissing in pain, he straightened himself and tried again, this time using the wall for support. He stumbled slightly, not use to walking on his prosthetic.

Taking slow steps, Raphael made his way over to the bedroom door, never once letting go of the wall. He stopped when he reached the door and straightened. He did it. He had made it to the door without anyone's help. Raphael allowed himself a grin. However the journey, though small, had weakened him considerably. His legs were shaking and his arms were the only things holding him up.

"Leo!"

He would need his brother's help to get the rest of the way to the bathroom, but for now he would allow it. He had made this small milestone without the help of his brothers. And one day he would make it the rest of the way.

A/n: Hopefully I will have the next chapter posted soon. If you have any questions, comments or thoughts, please feel free to lave a review or send me a PM.

Until the next time,

~Cat