A/N: Not the tag to "Annihilation: Earth!" I had originally been thinking of writing, but. I'm going through a pretty significant loss of my own right now, so this is what's come of it. Let's just say Mikey's actions in this fic are pretty much exactly what I've done with a voicemail I have saved on my phone from my aunt.
Major spoilers for the season finale. Inspired by Danyellser's art on Tumblr, which is linked in my profile - make sure to go leave some love! Title from Mumford & Sons. Not sure if it fits - not sure if anything about this fic works really, so let me know what you think.
-o-
Ghosts that we knew (will flicker from view)
The engines of Honeycutt's ship gives off a constant underlying hum – a low vibration that was hardly noticeable when they were first beamed aboard but now settles into Raph's bones in the quiet, and no matter how tired he is, it won't let him sleep.
Which is just as well, because every time he closes his eyes, he sees the horrific pained arch of Sensei's spine; the terrible glint of satisfaction in the Shredder's gaze; the final flutter of his father's robe before his body disappeared along with their friends, and New York, and the rest of the planet.
Raph growls and rolls over again on his cot, punching at the tiny pillow a few times to try and add some more nonexistent fluffiness to it. The sharp bite of grief at the loss of his father is buried under the wave of anger – at the Shredder, for his endless quest to defeat his nemesis; at the Triceratons, for bringing a machine that forced his father to join forces with his traitorous foe; at the Kraang, for bringing their war with the Triceratons to Earth.
Mostly, though, he's angry at himself for trusting Zog; for being too slow to deactivate the beacon; for starting all of this in the first place.
He wants nothing more than to spend a few hours lifting weights or doing his best to annihilate a heavy bag, but Honeycutt has no equipment like that on his ship, and Raph doesn't dare risk throwing his sai at anything for fear of setting off some new catastrophe.
Across the room, Casey mumbles something in his sleep. A frown pulls at his mouth, and his forehead is furrowed even in his dreams; all his exuberance at being in space don't seem to be keeping the dreams at bay. Not that Raph can do anything about that – past experience has proven that waking Casey up from nightmares leads to black eyes from wild flailing and a subsequent awkwardness that lasts until the worst of the swelling has gone down.
Still, Raph's glad that someone is managing to get at least a little sleep. Leo had disappeared to meditate awhile ago; Raph's not about to try and make him talk about anything yet. Don is probably still walking around the ship with Honeycutt, trying to drown his grief and pain in science, as per usual. Raph and April had exchanged a look of understanding before she'd wandered off after Don; Raph knows she'll be the only one who will be able to convince Donnie to try and get some rest once he's close to the point of collapse, if only because it means she'll be able to get some sleep, too.
And Mikey…
Raph twists over once more, frowning as he looks at the door to the hallway, which remains firmly closed. Mikey should've knocked softly on it by now; after every major battle they'd had before, he'd always wandered to one of their rooms within a couple hours of trying to go to sleep, awakened by terrible nightmares.
"Foolish little one! You are coming with me!"
Raph scowls, banishing the memory of his baby brother disappearing in a flash of orange light, and stands up, the thin blanket falling to the ground with a near-silent whuff of air. He keeps his steps quiet for Casey's sake as he heads to the door.
In the hallway, the engines' low hum is a little louder and the lights are brighter, but otherwise there's no sign of any movement. Raph heads to the door across the hall and pauses for only a moment before entering the command to open it.
His brother is curled up on the cot farthest from the door, facing the bulkhead. Raph stands there for a moment, watching the subtle movement of Mikey's shoulders as he breathes in his sleep.
At least we're all still here, he thinks, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. Because the loss of his father is devastating – but the loss of a brother? Unimaginable.
Across the room, there's a sudden hitch in Mikey's breathing and the soft tap of a finger hitting a touch screen. A soft glow silhouettes Mikey's shoulders, and then Raph hears the tinny sound of movement through the T-Phone's speakers.
"Sensei, sensei, wait, I need to take your picture!" Phone-Mikey's voice is full of energy and excitement, and Raph smirks a little out of reflex at the memory of Mikey running around the lair with his brand new phone, taking pictures of everything he could find.
Then Raph's breath leaves his lungs when he hears a familiar chuckle. "Were the last five you captured insufficient, my son?"
Even through the phone's tiny speakers across the room, Raph can hear the affection in his father's voice, and he finds himself wandering closer, trying to pick out more of the conversation.
"Heh, well, three of them were my thumb and the other two were just my eye – I don't know why they keep turning out like that!"
"Well, then, I suppose one more couldn't hurt."
"Alright, hold on, I – oh, wait, is it recording? Wait, Donnie made it so we could record video? That's awesome!"
Another familiar chuckle. "Sometime this evening, Michelan–"
Mikey lets out a single, gasping sob as the sound suddenly cuts off and taps his phone screen again.
Raph's close enough now that he can look over his brother's shoulder at the tiny phone screen. The movement is the choppy footage of someone swinging a phone around without realizing it's recording – the blur of stone floor; a flash of green leaves; a glimpse of the memorial shrine.
And then–
"Well, then, I suppose one more couldn't hurt," Master Splinter says, smiling into the camera. His eyes have the warm twinkle that's reserved for those moments his sons do something that humors him – which is often, it seemed, especially when Mikey's involved.
Was often, Raph corrects himself, and the pain lodges deep in his gut anew. Was.
"Sometime this evening, Michelan–"
The image freezes as the video ends: a blurry capture of his father speaking mid-sentence, and for a moment, the air in the room is nearly suffocating in its silence.
"I just…" Mikey's voice is low and rough. "Raph, I just want to hear him say my name."
Raph's eyes are burning now, and he sits on the edge of Mikey's cot, shifting until his arm is pressed against the curve of his brother's shell. "Me, too, Mikey," he whispers after a long and heavy moment.
Mikey sniffs and swallows audibly as the phone's screen goes dark, taking the image of their father's face with it. "What… what are we going to do without him?"
Raph closes his eyes and takes a long, quivering breath. He wishes he could come up with something, say something that will make the pain go away, but he's as helpless as he's ever been. "I… I don't know."
Silence falls again. Mikey shudders once, twice, then taps his phone back to life and plays the recording again.
And again.
And again.
And even though it's torture to sit there and watch it over and over, Raph can't pull himself away; can't force Mikey to stop; can't bring himself to rip the phone from his brother's hands.
Because if he does then Sensei's voice will be silenced again, and Raph doesn't think he can handle that. Not again.
"Sometime this evening, Michelan–"
It's like the dam breaks, then, and suddenly Mikey is sobbing, deep, wrenching, body-shaking gasps that rip from his throat with a low keen, the kind of grief too deep for any words to express.
It's the same grief ripping Raph's soul apart, too.
"It's not fair!" Mikey chokes out as Raph pulls him into a hug. "Raph, it isn't fair!"
Raph shifts on the bed and pulls Mikey closer, curling around him like he did when they were little kids and Mikey woke up terrified of the monsters in his closet; like he can still somehow shield his little brother from the world. Too little, too late, he thinks as Mikey continues sobbing, clutching the phone closer to his plastron.
"I know, Mikey," he whispers, pressing his forehead against his brother's and hugging him even tighter. "I know."
End.
