"You don't know what you got till it's gone."

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Raphael Hamato was sitting. Not yelling, screaming, thrashing, arguing, beating something. Not vowing revenge and pain. Just sitting silently, another hand in his. He held the blue-green colored hand tightly with his own. The sight of his youngest brother was disturbing and depressing, but the hothead hadn't left his side yet. He had watched it all happen. Every cut had been witnessed, every scream had been heard, every tear had been wished for it's disappearance. Raph could handle the torture the Shredder had delivered him, but Michelangelo couldn't. He wasn't as strong. His cheery, ever happy soul had been crushed along with his body. This was how Saki got to the hothead. He made him watch everything. If he tried to close his eyes, he got a deep slash on the arm. Straining, he removed his eyes from his unconscious little brother's body and looked at his arms. Twenty on one arm, eighteen up the other. Raph was surprised he hadn't died of blood lose, but he didn't stay on that thought too long. Here was Mikey, who might as well be dead. His miracle recovery meant nothing but remorse if the high-hearted mutant lost his life.

Donatello came in frequently to check on their little brother. Dressing and redressing the wounds. The routine seemed to calm him down. Leonardo had fallen asleep in the corner chair after many failed attempts to get Raph to eat and rest. He couldn't get anything down and nightmares of the past week haunted him every time he closed his eyes. All he could do was sit, stare, and worry his shell off.

As he stared at the battered body of his brother, Raphael thought about all the memories he had with Mikey. Most of them contained the hothead trying to kill the youngest turtle. He wished those moments would go away; disappearing forever like the sigh he just heaved. He regretted every mark he had left on his brother. How could he harm him? Seeing him in this state, the deed seemed impossible. He had hurt Michelangleo more than he cared to count. Like the time he almost bashed in his head with a pipe just because he was out-tricking him. Beating him in sparring practice. How could he be such a fool? How could he underestimate his capability to break a bone, slice some flesh? He hated himself for all the pain he'd delivered.

I deserve every cut up this arm and that one. I earned that bloody mouth and this blackened eye. I deserve this broken rib. All of it does not even begin add up to what I owe Mikey. I should be the one close to death. Me. Not cheerful little Mikey. He doesn't deserve any of this!

Raphael sat there day upon day. In the same seat, in the same position. Leo finally forced food down his throat and, surprisingly, it stayed down. No one could get him to rest. It just wasn't possible for him. His mind was always racing, nightmares always flaring. He gave up trying.

A few days later, Raph was in his usual spot, mindlessly staring at his brother's hand in his when the blue-green object moved. He starred at it in amazement, weary mind unable to compute this action. It moved again and finally, he understood. "Mikey?" His eyes darted to the orange clad turtle's closed eyes. He stared, yearning for them to open and so they did. It was a slow process. His eyelids seemed to be going a mile per hour, if that. Not that Raph cared; he was just happy the eyes were opening at all.

When the once-bright now-dull blue eyes slowly migrated onto Raphael's face, recognition crept slowly onto his own. "You don't look so hot, bro," he said weakly.

The hothead felt his eyes watering. "Ya don't look so great yourself, ya know."

"What are you talking about? I always look good."

A slight smirk found it's way onto Raph's sorrowful face. "'Course ya do, Mikey. Jus' keep tellin' yourself that."

A small smile was all he received for a few moments, when his brother's now serious voice said, "Have you been treated?"

"You think Don would let me sit here for days if I hadn't?"

"I've been out that long, huh?"

"Yup."

A pause. "Hey, Raph."

"Yeah, Mikey?"

"I'm going to be okay." The hothead gawked at this random outburst. His fear must be showing on his face. "I feel better already. Just give me some time and...I'll be fine." There was another pause before he continued, "Now, get some sleep. A thousand little sleepy black birds are nesting under your eyes."

"But-"

"Sleep," he ordered, more forceful this time. Raphael happily complied, never really realizing how tired he was until this moment. Laying his head on the bed in which his brother laid, he was out within moments. Not a single nightmare haunted him.

A/N: This was prompted (in a half sorta way) by Amonraphoenix. So, hope you enjoyed it, Amony (mind if I call you that? Or maybe Nixy...or Phoe! Lol, don't mind me, the crazy sleepless girl who's mind is slowly deteriorating because she does nothing with her life but write fanfiction, which isn't such a bad thing...)

Okkkaaayyy, don't ask me where that^^^ crap came from, but ya know what? You're just going to have to deal with it! :DD

Anyway, review, pwease!