TMNT aren't mine.
There aren't a lot of Mirage turtle fics so a lot of people probably won't know what this it about. But, in the original Mirage comics, there was a story arc when Raphael gets demutated back into an ordinary turtle. I don't have any words to describe the pure awesomeness of that particular Mirage comic arc. But it's one of my favourites. Raphael is kind quiet in the comic after that and I've always wondered what he's thinking about. Life must have been simpler and easy when he was a regular turtle and I can't help but think part of him must have craved that life.
His short, stubby legs carried him forward through the long blades of grass. Distantly, he heard the shouts of the tall, hairless man animals and his large turtle brothers. He ignored them, nostrils widening to sniff the air, he could smell water, clean and fresh, and he scurried through the grass as quickly as possible.
A faint hiss of warning and he paused, a large, furry mammal slinked through the grass towards him, blocking his route to the river.
Some distant part of his brain uttered something that might have resembled a swear word, had he been capable of higher thought.
Behind, his large turtle brothers had drawn close, their constant chatter of foreign words flowing. The weasel seized him up, he bristled as the overgrown rat took a confident step forward, if the weasel thought it had an easy meal, it had another thing coming.
He shifted his weight carefully, just before the weasel lunged, almost sweeping him off his feet. His claws dug into rock, stabilizing him as the weasel ineffectively scrabbled at his shell. But it was so much larger than him and he quickly lost his grasp.
The sweet taste of blood.
His tiny beak clamped down hard on the weasel's neck as they rolled, slicing through fur and skin and into mammal flesh. An ancient part of him relished the taste of meat, even though it wasn't the sort he instinctively craved.
Then, the weasel shoved him away as it fled. As he inwardly crowed in triumph, one of his large turtle brothers step forward and picked him up.
No, the river-!
Raph jerked awake with a muffled cry. For a long moment, his heart thumped loudly in his ears as he lay on sweaty sheets, then he carefully sat up, a stream of silent curses dying on his tongue.
God, he hates this.
He carefully climbed out of bed, grabbed his sais from their hiding place beneath his pillow cover and slipped from the room he shared with Michelangelo at Casey's grandmother's farm. As he descended the stairs, he paused at the door to the living room.
Leo sat, arms spread out on his flat knees, on the couch, meditating.
Bastard.
As if Raph couldn't deal with his problems himself, no, Leo had to be up and ready to handle whatever issues were raging around his brain.
One eye opened, despite Raph being quieter than quiet, as though sensing his ire. Without a word, Leo climbed to his feet and they both pad out of the house, into the forest.
When they were far enough from the house, out of Master Splinter's mystic radar that could detect any mischief his sons were getting into, Leo drew his swords.
And not a second too soon, else Raph's sai would have driven into his heart.
There were no words, no taunts or battle cries, this was no friendly spar. This was combat, battle with the intent to kill or maim. Raph's anger and frustration drive his punches, his kicks; he pushes Leo to the limits of his skill as he pushes the rage from his system.
He loves his brothers, Master Splinter, his family, Casey, April, his life of ninjitsu, New York.
He loves them all.
But somehow, he can't smother the traitorous part of him that dreams of the river.
