I do not own the TMNT

This is that Raph fluff I described in the latest chapter of Insanity. Go to deviantart and check out C-Puff's work, especially 'And God Will Heal', the inspiration for this.

Every last thing he did, it didn't matter what, where or why Leo was always there nagging at him.

Raphael charged down a cold alley, fists clenched over his sais and completely unmindful of the fresh snow on the ground, with the flakes still falling the strange prints he left would be covered soon anyway. "Every time." Raph's growl drifted into the frost laden air.

It had just been a little bit of fun. Stop a few dirt bags from pushing their goods on some kids; get a little exercise in the process of doing a good deed. No big deal. But along comes Big Brother on some fit about footprints and stealth, or at least a scarf. Even that Raph could put up with, but after dealing with the nag for the entire day and then being told to "Dress warm" by the self-made nanny in front of a bunch of creeps he was supposed to be busting… it was ridiculous!

"Every single d-" As if he were standing beside Raph Leo's voice kicked in, chastising him for his language. "I can't get away from him!" The turtle snarled, throwing a fierce punch at the nearest wall. The brick cut viciously into his skin and even as he pulled his hand back Raph knew there would be blood, from the feel of it he may very well have broken something.

"Ya know? I did that in front of a sergeant back in Korea." The mutant wheeled about to see a homeless man standing in front of a trashcan fire, warming one hand over the flames while tossing a sad looking pile of newspapers into the bin to feed the flames. That all too familiar voice in his head was accompanied by both Master Splinter's and Raphael's own for not noticing the light or the man earlier.

The guy had obviously been on the streets for a while. This was plain to see in the deep lines around his unshaven face and the exaggeration of these lines due to years of dirt buildup. The flickering light of the fire didn't make him look any younger. No hat covered his dirty grey hair and under a ragged and stained raincoat there was a familiar green jacket. True to his word the piece looked to be from the Korean War.

He also had to be sick… as in 'sick in the head'. What else would keep the old guy from screaming like a wounded dog and fleeing the very sight of a giant walking turtle? The glow of the trash fire fell well past where Raph currently stood.

While Raph was looking the man over and sizing him up the guy chuckled to himself and continued to reminisce. "Yeah, stormed into the store room complainin' and grumblin' to my lonesome before finally putting my fist right though the wall." After a short fit of low rolling chuckles he added, "Sergeant looked right at me and said that I was going to have to do better than that if I wanted a section eight."

Raph continued to stare at the guy. Not sure what else to say to the old coot he asked. "So what did you do?" He didn't expect an answer. Some of these guys, when they went back into their past there was no pulling them out.

Surprisingly, the man looked directly up at Raph and shot him a grin with dirty but nevertheless intact teeth. "Apologized. Explained what had me so all-fired mad." The man returned his focus to his hands. "So, being the caring kind of superior officer he was Sargeant took matters into his own hands." Raph's eyes strayed, wondering if he should just leave. "Let me tell you, I wasn't too happy about being reassigned to a tent with my own brother!" He laughed again, shaking his head slightly at his own past situation. By then Raphael had enough and turned to leave. "Boy, Jet was the biggest nag this side of the Kentucky Derby."

Convinced the guy's train of thought had fallen through a hole in his mind, Raph started walking.

"Clean your locker, keep your uniform straight, look at that bunk! You call yourself a soldier? It wasn't like you were drafted! Put some effort into your work…" Raph stiffened. "Look at that jacket! Mother taught you how to iron proper…"

With a snort Raph turned back to the man, "Wear a coat, or at least a scarf?" He suggested.

The man smiled, "Don't waste your money drinkin', don't this, don't that, Mother said." He finished, looking up to meet Raph's gaze and inviting him over to warm up.

Raph couldn't help but chuckle a little himself. He accepted the silent offer and moved to take advantage of the warmth. "Yeah, I got the same problem. How'd ya deal with it?"

His new friend smiled. "I didn't have much of a choice. We were stuck together. Not only that, but I suspect he always had Mother's favor and if I didn't at least attend chapel with him I'd get some sad letter from her noting that she was praying for my poor soul." The man bent over and picked up another handful of half rotten papers before tossing them in the bin. Hungrily, the flames licked off the moisture before gorging on the paper, casting off an extra boost of heat and light. "I did my best to humor him and hoped I'd get deployed somewhere else soon."

"I hear that." Raph grunted. He considered telling the old guy some of his own problems, or mentioning that there would be no getting redeployment for him.

Before he could say anything the man added. "It took every ounce of strength I possessed not to jump in glee when ol' Jet got his papers to head State side." His tone grew heavy, almost but not quite bitter… definitely sad. In fact, the particular color of his voice was almost that of-

"Jet never changed though. Last thing he did before leaving was nag at me…" The words should have been accompanied with amusement but the old guy sounded ready to start sobbing. Raph looked up at him uncertainly and noticed a glistening bead navigate the wrinkled and dirty cheek before dripping into the fire with a hiss, "Always the nag. Last thing he said, last thing, 'You're so sloppy sometimes.' That's what he said. Refused to let me leave our tent till I tightened my helmet strap…"

As the man's voice gave way to the past, Raph slowly realized that 'Jet' never made it 'State side'. Quietly Raphael glanced away to give the veteran his dignity as more the fire hissed and crackled.

How many times had he shrugged Leo off? Heads up, block higher, watch the rain, be careful… don't die. Donnie tended to do the same time… shell, even Mikey wasn't innocent… neither was Raph…

"I'm sorry." Raph grunted to the homeless man. His word couldn't make things better, but maybe… "Hey, are ya hung-…" Raph's words were cut short when he looked up and saw… nothing.

The man was gone. The fire was gone, the trash and the can were gone. The snow in front of him was smooth and cleaner than snow in New York had a right to be.

But the light remained. Warmth still brushed over his skin despite the white cloud that puffed out past his beak.

Startled and confused, Raphael looked around, trying to find the man or the source of the light. After hesitating and pushing it off for a moment Raph slowly looked up. High over head a star glistened brightly, twinkling with all its might and seeming the source of the light still dazzling Raphael's eyes.

"Raph?"

Slowly Raph turned from the star to the speaker behind him, even though he'd never forget the owner of that voice. Leo stood behind him dressed in winter clothes and looking concerned and guarded as well as decidedly chilled.