There had been another fight. It was almost routine now. Leo had ever so helpfully pointed out that Raph had charged into another fight without thinking. Raph had ever so helpfully pointed out that Leo was an asshole.
Mikey had slipped silently from the room, and, as per usual, Donnie quietly opened the lab door to let him in. Even Master Splinter had retreated to his room, happy to sit this one out if it meant he wouldn't have to deal with Raph's inevitable back-chat.
It was a fairly average argument. But Raph stormed out, nonetheless, because that was the way things worked. He'd be back, Leo knew, early in the morning, perhaps with a few bruises, a cut or two at the worst. Didn't stop him from slumping onto the couch, the clock ticking away like a reminder that Leo still wasn't good enough.
"Why doesn't he just kick me off the team anyway? If it's so obvious I'm useless." Raph grumbled, kicking a trashcan out of the way.
A short and strangled cry rang out from a few streets away, and Raph flew towards the sound, instantly magnetized by the prospect of a new fight. Adrenaline was already pumping through his veins when he arrived at the scene.
Looked like another mugging. One carried a metal pipe, and was beating it threateningly against the palm of his hand. Raph recognized the guys. Fairly new to the criminal underbelly, Raph had seen them once before, on patrol with his brothers. Though, judging by the new threads, they'd moved up a few notches in the food chain.
"You prefer to walk away now, or get carried outta here on a stretcher?" Raph asked, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.
"Hey, it's that turtle-thing!" The leader exclaimed, turning his attention away from the victim. "What'sa matter? The other freaks forget about you or something?"
"Nah. Sometimes I prefer goin' solo." Raph lunged forward, ignoring the twist of sadness in his gut. His sai locked with the man's thin metal pipe.
"Means my brothers ain't here to hold me back."
With a grunt, Raph turned his sai inwards. The pipe snapped. There was a satisfied smirk on Raph's face as the two pieces fell to the ground. A look of shock passed over the gang-member's crude features.
Raph gave him a nasty dragon-kick into a dumpster.
Another criminal with a set of chains rushed forward, eager to prove himself against the terrapin. Raph shot him a wicked half-grin, and let the chains wrap around his sai. He jerked them downwards until the man's face met his knee.
He fell backwards, nose crushed and spurting blood. Raph snorted. Looked like the asshat was about to faint. Turning to the final man, Raph cricked his neck. The man gulped.
"Mugging innocent people? What would ya mother say?" Raph twirled his sai.
"Don't have a mother no more." The thug muttered, a large switchblade hanging uncertainly from his hand.
Raph felt a tiny stab of guilt. Leo would probably still be up. He guessed this low-life probably wouldn't have anyone waiting up on him.
With a sharp shake of his head, Raph dismissed this sudden feeling of pity. The man lay unconscious on the ground before he knew what hit him.
Click.
Raph leapt out of the way. A jolt of adrenaline shocked through him, his body reacting before his mind even registered the noise.
The hammer of a gun being cocked.
Apparently, it wasn't quick enough. The white-hot pain of a bullet tearing through flesh rushed up his leg. A shuriken pierced the thug's throat.
He wouldn't be shooting anybody anymore.
Raph grimaced, breaths heavy and uneven as the blood poured from the wound. Reaching up, he untied his bandanna to staunch the flow. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he limped toward the nearest manhole cover.
The turtle heaved the heavy chunk of metal aside, a frustrated growl escaping his throat. It shouldn't take so much effort. He couldn't stop the cry of pain as he landed awkwardly in the sewers, jolting his bad leg. Raph limped homeward, ignoring the shaking in his hands, as he leant heavily against the brick walls.
"Shit."
Light-headedness was starting to set in. From blood-loss or shock, Raph couldn't tell. The wound was worse than he had first thought, and as he slumped to the floor, vision doubling, his worst fears were confirmed. The mask was soaked through entirely, and the blood was already spurting down his leg.
"Musta nicked a vein or sumthin'." Raph told himself, his voice muggy and unfamiliar.
With aching limbs, the terrapin pulled the mask further up his leg, slipping a sai through the loop and pulling it into a tourniquet. The effort exhausted Raph, and his head fell back against the slimy bricks. It would be so easy to just lie here until the tourniquet stopped working. His brothers weren't expecting him back for another few hours at least. In any case, they wouldn't go looking for him until the next day at the earliest. If they went looking at all.
Besides, it couldn't hurt to rest, just for a little while…
No! Raph couldn't, wouldn't die here, alone and half-delirious in some dirty tunnel. With a low keening of pain, Raph eased himself up off the floor. Pain, lightning-fast, and sharp as poison sped up his leg. Raph grimaced again, nausea setting in. He blinked. Only a few minutes away…
It was a slow and painful march, interspersed with grunts of anguish and laboured breathing. Sweat clouded his eyes, salty and stinging. Raph didn't mind. This pain was almost sweet.
A sudden realisation hit him. What if he did die here? An odd sense of déjà vu washed over Raph. He had been near death several times before; and every time, all he could think about was his brothers.
How Donnie stitched up his wounds without fail, but never got so much as a thank-you. How Mikey only ever tried to make him smile, and only ever got bruises instead. How Leo tried, tried so hard to be perfect, for them, for him, but somehow Raph could never try to be anything but angry.
How Raph's last words to his only older brother, were full of a hate he had never deserved.
"No." Raph stumbled, his head glancing against the sewer wall. Stars, white and blinding, exploded in front of his eyes.
Raph slid part-way down the wall, the rough bricks grazing his arm and the side of his head. If he squinted, Raph reckoned he could see the entrance to the lair.
Wouldn't it be ironic to come so close, only to fall, mere feet from salvation.
Maybe it would've been better if Leo had kicked him off the team. He could've died fighting in a nice, dark alley, and saved them the torture of waking up to his bled-out body. He knew they wouldn't mourn him. Why should they? All he'd ever done was cause them pain. Even... even as kids they'd been wary of him. Played too rough and hit too hard. At least he'd kept them safe.
But what about later? A time after now. When Raph was gone and they were still fighting?
Who'd protect them?
Raph's thoughts swirled around in his head, thin tendrils of consciousness that he couldn't quite catch. Like trying to hold onto smoke.
Who'd protect them?
All he knew was that he needed to get to the lair, even if he couldn't put his finger on why. And he wanted to sleep. God, did he want to sleep. Sleep? His brothers would be asleep. Raph would be the furthest thing from their minds. It would all be for nothing. So why did he keep lurching forward?
Raph fell to his knees and started crawling, torturously slow, through the filth. There was a doorway in the middle of nowhere (when had he pressed the hidden button to make it open?) and Raph clawed his way up the side of it.
It was then, dry-retching, bleeding to death, and covered in a thin layer of raw sewage, that Raphael fell headfirst into the lair.
"Raph?!"
And for once, Raph was real glad Leo always stayed up so late waiting for him.