Author's Note: So. Eight straight hours of writing and rock music, two and a half slices of pizza, and one excruciating workout later...I give you the longest thing I've ever written in one day. I've kinda jumped on the SAINW bandwagon. Let me enjoy the ride for a bit, and I'll get back to my other stories.
Now, this is one full of firsts for me as an author: First time I've written solely in first-person. First time I've tried to have equal parts dialogue and prose. First time I've played with time, keeping the main character's thoughts/actions at two places within a ten year span. First time I've chosen Raphael to be the main focus (b/c he is a very difficult character for me to write as I tend to identify with and focus on Donnie or Leo). First death-fic.
I would greatly appreciate feedback on the general things: everyone's in character? Flow is good? Structure is easy enough to follow?
Thanks so much, and without further ado, here you are!
You weren't supposed to die that day.
I stared at the line I'd just written. Probably wasn't the best way to start a letter, 'specially if it's recipient had been dead going on ten years. I ripped the paper apart and squashed the little pieces into a ball. It went sailing across the room to join the growing pile. The whiskey stung as it went down, but once the shot hit bottom, I decided, Screw it, I'll start the letter however I damn well please.
'Cause honestly, I was still pissed at 'im for gettin' himself killed. I snorted. How's that for friendship? I pulled out another sheet. The notebook at my side wasn't made for the abuse I put it through. The pen shook in my hand as I pressed it onto the clear line, and I swore when I realized I'd just finished the last of the bottle.
You weren't supposed to die that day. I wasn't supposed to come home alone. It was just gonna be the two of us raising cane and dishing out a fist or two to keep the troublemakers in line.
Sweat was beading on my forehead. I wasn't even four lines in and already my stomach churned as though to remind me that my dinner wouldn't look as good the second time I saw it. It was just a letter! Just one measly sheet of paper and my illegible handwriting, and here I was wishin' for booze or cigarettes to help me get through it!
But you just had to go and shake things up. Not that I'd have expected anything less.
I guess it all started about three nights before that, though, when Leonardo
I threw the empty bottle with all my might and was thoroughly satisfied when it shattered. He'd better appreciate this after dragging me back through all of that again! If my...brother...wasn't such a key player, I'd have marked through his name so hard it would make a hole in the paper and then burned the note. Well, okay, that was still an option, and who knows? I might get to it once the alcohol really got into me. But still. Casey deserved to know what happened, and I needed to be the one to tell him.
came back from the recon mission.
It was around midnight when I finally heard the window in the apartment open up. Babysittin' April's place was never my favorite job, but rotation put me on scout duty and Leo on point for the mission. Mikey had finished trickin' out the lair with what of Don's old stuff he could figure out how to work. It'd been nearly six years since we'd seen the little nerd, and nights like tonight really rubbed his absence in my face.
I shook off the depression and wondered into the living area. April's place just never seemed the same when she was gone. The cobwebs stood out more, and the dust bunnies bred and overtook the shelves and cabinets. She said she'd be back in a couple of days, had to get her sister and her uncle settled in the estate somewhere just north of Albany.
The night wind blew in with my brother, and the chill seeped into my bones. "'S 'bout time you showed up."
The blue bandana tails fluttered in the breeze, and I noticed for the first time how bad he was shaking. He turned to face me, and I swear I forgot how to breathe. He was caked from head to toe in gore. Blood pulsed out of a wound in his shoulder, but the rest was drying on his limbs and gear. He flinched as I caught him when his knees buckled.
"What happened?" I asked sharply.
His breaths were short and fast. Grimacing, he pulled off his jacket, exposing the wound to the air. "Gun...shot. Might've hit...artery."
He speech was slurring, and his head dipped and swayed. I patted his cheek roughly. "C'mon, wake up. Don't make me smack you more'n I have to."
He gave a valiant attempt at rolling his eyes into the scowl I knew so well and wormed his way onto the floor. I ran to the closet and grabbed a few towels. Kneeling, I pressed all of my weight onto his shoulder to prevent anymore blood loss. He cried out using words that brought a slight flush to my face. At some point, the pain got to him and he stopped thrashing.
I didn't think the streams of crimson staining his torso and legs were all his blood. It was a lot, more than he could've lost and still made it back here conscious, but the thought did little to comfort me. It just meant we'd lost more of our guys. I sighed. The Shredder was getting smarter and stronger if he could take out one of our recon squads in one fell swoop.
"Told ya I should've come along," I muttered at him. Peeling the towels back, I was pleased to see the wound was trying to clot. I stuck my hand onto his shoulder blade, feeling for an exit wound…there! I released the breath I didn't know I'd been holding, eternally thankful I wouldn't have to go digging around my brother's insides lookin' for a bullet. He'd need to be trussed up like a turkey for a bit, but that'd have to wait until Mikey got back.
I flipped my phone open. "Hey, Mike. Where are ya right now?"
"'Bout to head your way. Whatcha need?"
"Think you can find some more dressings or somethin' and bring 'em with ya?"
"Uh, sure. I'll see what I can do." He paused. "Who was it this time?"
The resigned question seemed outta place comin' from my baby brother, but I knew he wouldn't let me off without getting an answer. "Eh...It's Leo. Got clipped by some punk with a gun."
He sucked in a sharp breath. "How...how is he?"
"He'll live."
"Right. I'll be over there soon." The line went dead.
We spent the rest of the night trying to convince Leonardo that first aid was a good thing, and that a band aid or two wouldn't make a bullet wound magically heal. It was actually good to see him out of commission for a bit. I got to step up and be the boss like I'd always wanted, able to shove my orders down his throat for a change. It didn't stop him from fighting me tooth and nail and second guessing every call I made, though.
By the end of the third day, I'd seriously had enough. I dumped his butt in the room we'd fixed up for ourselves in April's basement, told Mikey I was going out to check on supplies or something, and left. I remember sitting outside your window, watching you pace. I think you were nearly as stir-crazy as me by that point, what with April out of town and me and the guys trying to get a handle on what Shredder was up to. I knew you'd been wanting in on the action since you figured out our shtick, and I swear we didn't mean to let you and April fall by the wayside. We just didn't want either of you to get in over your heads.
I gave into the migraine I'd been fighting and set aside the letter. Massaging my temples, I tried to calm the shakes that had taken over. It might have been my frayed nerves or the alcohol or the fact that I felt some burning need to talk to my best friend one last time or some combination of all three, but in the end, the whiskey and the sandwich were back on the floor. On all fours, I heaved again and again until nothing was left, and still my body hitched and twisted in sickness.
"Ungh," I shuddered as I wiped the strings of saliva from my mouth. Swallowing the knot in my throat and my pride, I returned to the makeshift bench and picked up the pen again.
I am so sorry. For leaving you out and listening to my own ideas over everyone else's and letting you down. And I'm sorry I couldn't keep
There was a stinging behind my eyes as I recalled the promise he'd bound me to. Irritated, I slid my thumb over my lids and scratched out the last two and a half lines. Self pity wasn't gonna get me anywhere, and he'd probably come back just to take a swipe at me for it. I'd done all I could and squared with those demons long ago; it was just the drink talking.
You were just spoiling for a fight, I could tell, and I didn't see what harm it would do to have a sidekick.
We spent the better part of the patrollin' around the park before we'd found someone stupid enough to take us. They tried to jump us as we came up on the east entrance. They had no marks to identify them as Foot or Dragons, so they were probably your garden variety wannabes that couldn't fight worth crap. The Shredder had put a large enough price on all of our heads that crazies from the underworld of street gangs to the illicit white collar crews knew us well. Rarely did they approach our homes, but while we were training or traveling in the city, they came out of the woodwork. What the heck. At least I had someone to punch hard enough that they couldn't talk back if they wanted.
The last seventy-two hours were really starting to grate on my sanity. Between Leo's backtalk and his refusal to tell either of us what happened until April got back and we could all meet up, it was a wonder me or Mikey one hadn't clobbered him yet. I was pretty sure Mikey could keep him locked in the downstairs apartment long enough for me to blow off a little steam.
I blocked high and threw a punch into the guy's face. I might have busted his nose, but he screamed and fell away like I'd branded him. I heard plenty of grunts and squeals from my six, so I assumed Casey was holdin' his own. I'd barely warmed up by the time we'd mowed down our opponents.
"Well," he panted. "That was fun."
I laughed and clapped him on the back. "C'mon, let's see if we can find a few more of 'em."
The clouds rolled in and lightning lit up the night by the time we'd reached the docks. We perched on one of the warehouse and waited for nearly an hour for something to happen.
He rolled his eyes and stretched. "Welp, I'd call this a bust. Wanna head back?"
"Not really."
He cocked his head. "What's eatin' ya?"
"More like 'who.'"
"Leo? But I thought you said he was laid up."
"He is! That's the sad part!" I pummeled the ledge with the butt of the sai I'd been spinning. "His whole I'm-in-charge bit is actually worse when he can't enforce his orders."
Casey laughed and jerked his head toward the city. "Well, then ya might wanna get back before the weather picks up any worse."
I sighed and stood, knowin' he was right. But I still had a little edge I needed to work outta my system. "Race ya home. Last one there owes ev'ryone a round next time we get together."
He shook my hand firmly. "You're on."
The buildings blurred as I pushed myself past my burning calves and further into the city. The sky abruptly opened up, and I couldn't see five feet in front of me for the rain. Mud and grit stuck to my feet, and I slid to the edge of a building, stopping only to get a fix on my location. I couldn't see Casey anywhere, and knowin' him, he'd prob'ly stashed his bike somewhere and was back at his warm, dry pad. Irked, I pressed on until I found myself starin' at the southern park entrance.
The trees looked sad, flattened as they were by the sheets of water poundin' on 'em. If I remembered correctly, there was a manhole about a block from here. I could get underground and wait out the storm. I winced, knowing I'd most definitely lost the race. Everyone was getting cheap rotgut at the next gathering.
I shook droplets of rain and sweat onto the sewer walls and stood back to watch the storm through the grating. A pang caught me in the chest as I thought of all the times I'd sat up with Donnie doing this very thing. I think the last time had been when we were nine. He had always been fascinated with storms, but he was really scared of the thunder. He'd drag me outta bed to come watch the squall blow through, and I'd always end up having to carry his sleeping butt back home. When we were older, I asked him once why he didn't ever get Leo or Mikey to go with him, and the answer stuck with me.
'Cause you just let me be afraid. Mikey would be just as scared as me, and Leo would just tell me to face my fears. You...you protected me, and your protection wasn't contingent on my bravery. I felt safest with you, and I guess I still do, to a point.
I scowled at myself. Some job I did looking after him.
I shook off the ghosts and peered at the sky. It seemed to be thinning a bit, but it was also getting lighter. I smiled as I thought of Mikey having to tie Leo to the bed to keep him from coming out after me. Mikey was going to kill me if I was gone too much longer. I poked my head out of the ground and scanned the area. It seemed clear enough, aside from the thick fog that had moved in, so I hefted my body up out of the drain and continued my trek home.
I wasn't sure when I became aware that something was off. It felt like I was being watched or followed, but I couldn't tell through the mist. Straining my ears for the slightest whisper of movement, I was wholly unprepared for the ground to come rushing at me. The fist had shot out of the dark before I could react, and I was spitting rocks and teeth out of my mouth as I picked myself up off the ground. Sais in hand, I struck out blindly until the blade connected with a throat. I could tell I'd got in a good strike as my hand was bathed red and the gurgling noise ceased in under twenty seconds.
If the guy - a Foot, I could tell by the emblem etched onto his neck - had any friends with him, they were a bit more careful when they saw I had no problem eviscerating another person. Dulled though they were, the sai could do some serious damage when I put enough force behind 'em. A throwing star whizzed past my temple, and even as I rolled, I caught someone's knee in my ribs and wheezed. I didn't have enough time to catch my breath before a series of punches and strikes took me to the ground. Near as I could tell, there were five, maybe six, more of 'em, and they had to be higher ranking in the clan to be able to pull off a coordinate ambush.
I sneered and shouted, "C'mon. Too chicken to face me one on one?"
I could almost hear Leonardo berating my apparent bravado, but I needed to level the playing field. If I could get a couple of these guys to take me head on, I had a better chance of breakin' up their little game. The Fearless Leader wasn't the only one who could concoct a plan on the fly.
"What? Ya need to hold each other's hands to face one turtle in a fight?"
Two of 'em took my bait and lashed out. I ducked and faked left before driving the hilt into the man's solar plexus. He went limp, unconscious from the sudden force to his midsection. I found the other one's shoulder and whipped my other hand around his head, quickly twisting and sickly smiling as I felt the bones strain then break. The remaining ninja were hesitant to join the small mound of corpses at my feet. I made a mad dash into the center of the group before they could make their next move. One of the more skittish ones ran off before I could really do anything besides growl at him. The rest went down in a hail of wild swings, precision kicks, and paralyzing nerve strikes, obviously hedging their bets on Plan A working without a hitch.
It took me a minute to shake the feral beast from my system and see that all of them were down and out. My skin pinched with dried blood and water, and I could feel several good bruises forming. And I still had a mile and a half to go til I got to Casey's. I groaned, and set off on the jog before I could talk myself out of it.
~*.*~
I knew something might be wrong when I saw the shattered glass on the street. As dilapidated as the complex was, a neighborhood kid could have just as easily thrown a rock through the window, but that ingrained sixth sense told me to play it safe. Instantly concealing myself in the shadows, I waited a full five minutes before investigating. Sensing no attackers, I crept up the fire escape to the window that faced the alley. It had been propped open with a piece of plywood and duct-taped into place. I vaguely recalled him complaining about a busted a/c a couple of weeks ago. Sliding into the flat, I swore when I landed on a pile of dirty (and possibly molding) dishes.
"Case, I cannot wait til April shows you how efficient cleaning makes your life," I snarled at the plate that was adhered to the back of my thigh.
The lights were off but the TV was on, and I was sure my hunch about his bike was right. Knowing he never cared, I opened the fridge and pulled out the last of the six pack stowed behind the vegetables. "Yo, Case!"
My voice echoed back at me, and unease gripped my chest. I sat the beer on the table and tiptoed around the divider.
It was the smell that stopped me. Like rust and salt and bile. The carpet squished under my weight, and I was horrified to find my foot dripping ichor. The flashing technicolor lights illuminated the couch and its occupant. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, hands carelessly flung over the arm behind his head, feet at a comfortable angle.
Maybe it wasn't his blood on my feet.
Maybe he was just sleepin' off the fight.
Maybe that purple area on his neck was just a shadow.
Maybe...maybe…
I don't exactly know when it sunk in that you weren't with me anymore, but once it did, I went ballistic. There aren't that many memories of me trashing your old place; at some point, I'd just run out of things to break.
I'd never known pure, unadulterated hatred before then. I hated them for catching you off guard and beating you senseless. I hated them for stripping you down and taking your dignity. I hated them for knowing your death would be intimate and that their hands would be the last thing you were ever aware of. I totally, completely, dishonorably wanted their blood in cold blood for yours, and God help anyone in my way.
At some point, I stumbled through the apartment door, not caring how much of a racket I caused. I wasn't sure how I'd found my way back, but all that mattered right now was that my brothers were trippin' over each other up the stairs and I could finally stop runnin'.
"Who's there?" called Leo sharply. He blanched as he came to the edge of the living area. "Raph?"
Mikey ran into Leo when he stopped short. He looked irritated, at first, as he peered at me, but it was immediately wiped away by fear. I suppose I was some sight, covered with blood and vomit and sweat.
"Mikey, get him some water!"
Baby brother snapped into action, but by the time he'd returned, I'd sunk to the floor, dizzy and hurting. He and Leo exchanged a few words then lifted me from the floor to an easy chair. A hand tipped back my head and guided the cool glass to my mouth, supporting my neck as I mechanically swallowed gulp after gulp of water.
"Raphael."
I swiveled my eyes to Leo. He flinched under the listless stare, but continued, "Are you hurt?"
More than you could ever know.
"'M alright."
"What happened?"
I sentenced my best friend to death.
"They got 'im."
Somethin' in my tone musta hit a hard chord in both of 'em, for they simultaneously guarded their posture and moved closer to me.
"Got who?" The question shook as it left Mikey's lips.
"C-casey," I moaned. "Dammit, those bastards killed Casey Jones!" I punched the back of the chair and buried my hot face in my hands. I could hear the other two reacting. Two arms locked around my own and we circled up, unabashedly mourning our ally, friend, and brother.
~*.*~
Eventually the tears subsided, and the grief jarred Leo into his favorite role, which was the last thing I needed right now. But I was too tired to do anything but go along with it and chuck the occasional ice cube at him.
"Where is he?"
"In his apartment."
That tick under his eye told me he had found something wrong with those three little words, the most I'd said to him in the past hour. "You left him in his apartment." He repeated it slowly as though doing so would suddenly bring to mind how I'd wronged the world this time.
"Uh, yeah. What else was I supposed to do?"
"You couldn't have brought him to Angel's or even here?"
"How the hell - he lives on the freakin' other side o' the city! And I wasn't exactly in any shape to lug a corpse - " I hissed the word at him and enjoyed watching him cringe "- across the New York skyline!"
"You could have at least shut the windows!"
"What, you think someone's gonna break into his place? Newsflash, Leo, dead bodies tend to scare off crooks and landlords."
"What are we supposed to do if the city officials get to him before we can?"
"Show up at the funeral."
He threw his hands up in the air. "I can't believe you! He was your best friend -"
"You don't think I know that!" My fist was up and under his chin before I knew I moved. "I did the best I could, and I'm sorry it missed your mark again. He was already gone when I got there, so -"
"Who was?"
We froze as the question cut through the air, and I could tell from the way his jaw dropped that we were sharin' the same thought.
Oh. Crap.
April was standing the doorway, having walked in on the argument and the travesty. I utterly hated my life in that moment. She cocked her head even as she skirted past us and into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Mikey shied away from her as though she had bitten him and looked desperately from me to Leo and back. I guess I was gonna hafta be the one to tell her. My throat constricted.
She paled a little as I approached her, seeing for the first time the gore and grime I'd had yet to wash off. Her hands flew across my shoulders and torso as she checked me over for injury. I caught them up and brought them close to my neck, where I knew she could feel my heartbeat the strongest.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Apr -"
"You're sure?"
I blinked back a wayward tear. "Yeah. But.. uh…" I shot the guys a frantic look. Michelangelo kept his gaze adverted, and Leonardo was suddenly fascinated by the plaster in the ceiling. "We...lost someone tonight."
I hated the way her face fell. "Oh, no. Who?"
I jerked as though struck by the question. I'd stowed his mask in my jacket, and I'd meant to wash it off before I gave it to her. The plastic quivered in my hand as I held it out to her. "I'm...I'm so sorry, April."
I think I could have handled hysterics. I think I could have handled tears and screams. I think I could have even handled grief-stricken abuse in some form. But I couldn't handle it when she just...froze. She stared uncomprehendingly at the item in her hand, apathetically picking at the dried blood. She said nothing; I don't even think she breathed. For more than a minute, she couldn't even respond to her name.
Mikey stole up beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders tentatively, as though waiting for her to break. "April?" We didn't have to wait long. As soon as he touched her, her knees buckled. She lay crumpled and pantin' on the floor like a rabid animal.
"No...no, not him. Why, oh God, no…"
She kept up the steady denials and half-hearted prayers or curses while clutchin' his mask so tight the teeth left imprints on her palms. Mikey swallowed hard as he stroked her back and cooed gently at her. By and by, the words were fewer and further between, and harsh sobs choked out her grudging acceptance.
That lady loved you something fierce, buddy. Still does, though she'll never say so. I think it hurts her too much. She kept that ring you gave her, the one I helped you pick out? Keeps it around her neck 24/7. You'd be proud of her now. She toughened up quite a bit over the years. She had to. And believe me when I say, I'd think twice before taking her in a fight.
I looked up from the page and slowly tilted my head right and left until my neck popped. It was later than I thought. The moon was hangin' low on the horizon, and I could see the north star blinking back at me. I stashed the letter in the notebook, fairly surprised to see that it'd taken up at least three sheets, and I wasn't even done. They'd be waitin' for me at the base. I sighed. I could finish the blasted thing tomorrow. Maybe I'd be able to find another fifth by then.
