Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

See You Soon

There weren't too many things in life that could calm Raphael's nerves. It was a far easier thing to upset the thirty-two year old than it was to get him to relax. But the one thing that always seemed to work was the rumble of his motorcycle beneath him with the wind pulling at his jacket. Ever since he'd gotten his first bike over a decade ago, he'd fallen in love. There was no other feeling in the world quite like it.

Normally he only rode at night so the darkness and shadows could better hide his inhuman figure, but as he glanced to his right, he could just see the sun peeking above the horizon. It was already morning, and he hadn't even reached his destination yet. Lucky for him he had opted to avoid the highway, sticking to less populated roads. There were small towns here and there but not a lot of traffic. Still, the sooner he was off the road, the better.

"If only that were true," he grumbled into his helmet.

In reality, the last thing he wanted was for his soothing ride to be over. He'd been avoiding it for a long time now, but he knew there was no more putting it off. Much as he'd been dreading this day, the rift between him and his brothers would only continue to grow if he kept conveniently forgetting to make the trip. They'd tried to give him space, to allow him to deal with things in his own way, but after missing the anniversary yesterday, Leonardo had been positively furious with him. There would be no living with his older brother until he at last relented. And so with barely a thought as to what a late hour it was or how much gas was in his tank, he'd grabbed a few items haphazardly and stormed out, shouting obscenities at Leo as he had exited the lair.

Almost five hours into his drive, he was finally able to admit that the eldest turtle had indeed had a right to be angry with him. He'd been distant and irritable for a year now, and yesterday had merely been the straw that at last broke the camel's back. There were some things Leo wouldn't so easily forgive, and him staying as far away from the lair as possible until the others had left on their family pilgrimage without him was one of them. No, Raph couldn't blame his big brother, but that didn't make the nervous flips his stomach was doing feel any less uncomfortable.

As he spied Great Sacandaga Lake to his right, the nervous flips turned into nauseous leaps. He was almost there. Soon he would be at the farmhouse, and there would be no more avoiding it. The wind would settle down, the roar of the engine would die, and he'd have to let go of the only thing keeping him sane. He'd somehow managed to ignore where he was headed and why for the majority of the journey, but as he finally turned down the dirt path leading to the old house, his body was tense, and not even immediately doing a one-eighty and racing back the way he'd come would calm him down.

His motorcycle slowed to a halt as the farmhouse towered over him. It hadn't changed much since he'd last visited a year ago. It had been fixed up over time, but it's age was still apparent by a few grimy windows and loose boards. Turning his attention to the barn to his left, he jumped off of his bike and began guiding it toward the large, wooden doors. While the house had been cleaned up, the barn had seen better days. The filthy, red paint was peeling, and the door jolted open with a loud screech as he pulled on it.

A part of him wondered if leaving his beloved motorcycle in the run down structure was a good idea, but knowing he was stuck here until at least dusk, he didn't want to risk a storm - or worse, a large animal or mutant - ruining his pride and joy. Releasing the kickstand, he removed his jacket and riding pants and walked over to his saddlebags. Pulling out the paper bag he'd brought from home and putting his clothes in it's place, he headed back outside, shutting the barn door behind him.

The chilly, fall air nipped at his now exposed limbs, but luckily there wasn't even enough of a breeze to stir the red and brown leaves surrounding him. It was quiet, and as the early morning sun lit the area around him in an unearthly, golden glow, Raph closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't ready for this, but he knew he never would be, and it was best to not put it off any longer. He was here; there was no where to run.

Opening his eyes once more, he forced his legs to move one in front of the other across the dew laden lawn. Even though he'd only visited the spot once, his feet still remembered exactly where to go, and as he approached his destination at the edge of the trees, he felt his body go numb. His mouth was suddenly dry, but he willed himself to speak regardless.

"Hey, Mikey."

The small, inornate headstone they'd fashioned for the young turtle simply stared back at him.

It had been exactly a year and a day ago that he'd lost his baby brother in battle. He'd been out with Casey that night, trying to rid the city of the last of the Purple Dragon gang, when he'd gotten the call from Leo. The three of them had been out on patrol as usual when they'd come across Tatsu, the newest leader of the Foot Clan at the time, and an army of his cyborg ninjas. Mikey had taken a fatal blow from the master ninja himself, and while Donnie did all he could to save him, he had died before they'd even made it back to the lair.

Despite the long distance, everyone had agreed that the farmhouse was the safest place to bury his body. All of their closest friends had come to help, but to Raph that day was no more than a blur. He could recall vague details, like Leo trying to get him to open up, but all he had wanted was to shut everyone out, to leave the tranquil setting in favor of exacting his vengeance on the man that had taken his little brother from him. In the end, he had gotten his revenge, but it had done little to ease the ache in his heart.

Clenching the top of the paper bag in a tight fist, he pushed the memory aside. He didn't come here to think about himself; he had come to visit his baby brother. Now that he was here, however, he found he had no idea where to start. Awkwardly, he held out the bag.

"So, I, uh, I brought you something." Opening it up, he reached in and pulled out a comic book and a doggie bag full of pizza gyoza. "This one was your favorite, right? 'Carter the Enforcer'? I'll have to remember to thank Murakami for the gyoza when I get back, though. I stopped by his house last night right before coming here. Even though he's retired and it was, like, 2 AM, he still made up a batch for us. I, uh, I kinda just grabbed them and took off. Didn't really feel like chatting, ya know?"

Looking down at the carefully polished stone before him, Raph couldn't help but feel a bit silly about all of this. He was talking to a rock. Rocks don't eat or read. He hadn't even thought about why he was taking them; it was as if his body had gone into autopilot the moment he'd made up his mind to finally go. Sitting down in the wet grass with a sigh, he collapsed the paper bag and placed it's contents on top of it.

"Guess it's pretty dumb bringing that stuff out here, huh?" he mumbled. While the fact that he earned no response was unsurprising, he still found himself fidgeting, grasping at what to say next. He wasn't very good at holding lengthy conversations with other people let alone himself. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, I guess I should apologize. For not coming out here yesterday with everyone else, I mean. I, uh, got caught up in stuff, ya know? I was busy. The streets have been a mess since you left. The Purple Dragons found a new leader right as Casey and I were about wipe'em out, and then there's the new leader of the Foot. Pimino or something. Says she's Shredder's real daughter. Not that it matters, but she's brought these elite guards with her from Japan. Almost lost Donnie the same way we..."

His voice trailed off, a lump forming in his throat as the memories again boiled to the surface. The night of Michelangelo's death, his tears had refused to cease, but ever since, he'd made sure to keep his feelings bottled up. Crying was useless. It didn't solve anything. But sitting here knowing his baby brother lay six feet beneath him, his corpse decaying with the cruel passage of time, his heart ached a thousand times more than it ever had since that fateful day.

Attempting to take a deep breath in order to subdue his growing anxiety, he found it came out as more of a desperate wheeze. He leaned forward, placing the palms of his hands on the ground, and squeezed his eyes shut as he grit his teeth. Wishing more than anything that he had his older sibling's knack for clearing his mind, he tried everything to push aside the flood of emotions threatening to overtake him. But being here in this remote place with nothing but painful memories bombarding him, he felt his breathing hitch as he failed to keep it under control, and the dampness growing behind his eyelids began to leak out.

The rest of his family had all pushed him to visit the gravesite, but he had never understood why. What was the point? Why put himself through this? Mikey was dead! Nothing was going to change that! Coming back here and pretending to talk to him as if he were still alive was irrational and stupid. It wasn't making him feel better or helping him cope. Instead, all it was doing was allowing his pent up anguish and guilt to finally free itself in one sudden, fierce rush.

"I'm sorry... I..." Raph let out a shuddering breath as his tears mixed with the dew below. "I should have been there. I shouldn't have been running off with Casey when you needed me. If - if I'd have just been there -" A low whine escaped from his mouth as his hands tightened into fists, and he sniffed loudly. "But I wasn't. I wasn't there. I wasn't there to - to protect you like I should have been, like I always did! You - you needed me... and I... I...!"

His babbling was cut short as violent sobs wracked his body. Words were replaced by mournful weeping as he lowered his face into the grass, gasping for air, and his entire body was trembling as if being shaken by a terrible earthquake. The distraught cries grew louder and louder until he at last reached the limit of his strained vocal cords. He had no idea how long he sat there, hunched over, his fingers subconsciously clawing at the ground, but he didn't care. Out here he was alone. Out here there was no one to pretend to be strong for.

As the time passed, his wailing grew softer. Eventually the shaking ceased, and his sobs turned into silent tears. When at last his breathing had evened out, he swallowed hard and licked the dry edges of his mouth.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye."

With a shaky sigh, Raph slowly pushed himself up, leaning back on his heels. He knew he looked terrible with his dirty hands and bloodshot eyes. Roughly wiping at his face with the back of his hand, he sniffed loudly and gazed down at the headstone. But even though he had managed to get his emotions back under control once more, the tears refused to stop. They continued to soak his mask, slowly dripping down his reddened cheeks.

"I know that if you were - if you were here you'd tell me to quit blaming myself. But I can't, and I don't think I ever will. I should've -"

Catching himself, he bit his tongue before he could finish the sentence. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and sighed.

"I'd give anything to hear that annoying laugh of yours one more time. I wanna eat your weird food. I wanna smack you over the head for doing something stupid. I wanna chase you around the lair for drawing a mustache on my face. It's not the same without you, and I - I just..."

He lifted his chin and stared at the grave.

"I really miss you, little brother."

As he at last grew silent, the stillness of the morning surrounded him, engulfing him in it's stifling grasp. The bluntly sincere words hung in the air like a noose, threatening to push him back over the edge. But just as he was about to push off of the ground and run back toward the gentle embrace of the open road, the rustle of leaves broke through the otherwise quiet morning. The unnaturally warm breeze brushed against his cool face, sending shivers down his spine, and next to him he could hear the pages of the comic book flipping open.

The feelings of loneliness and anguish subsided if only a little as the wind died down. Closing his eyes and taking in a deep, calming breath of fresh, morning air, he adjusted his position, crossing his legs and leaning back on his palms. He lifted his face toward the sky and felt the sun's rays drying his cheeks as they trickled through the sparse foliage of the trees. Once he had fully regained his composure, he opened his eyes and glanced to the side where he had left the gifts he'd brought for Michelangelo.

The light breeze had flipped the comic open to it's last page. On it was, he assumed, the titular Carter, a dark skinned male dressed in some ridiculous, orange spacesuit. He appeared to be boarding a spacecraft, giving an odd salute with gun in hand to the green aliens of the planet he was about to leave. In large, bold letters, he simply stated with a broad smile, "You'll see me again. You can count on it."

Raphael stared at the page in wonder for several minutes without moving a muscle. If it didn't sound so crazy, he could have sworn he heard Mikey's voice in his head as he read the words over and over again, and for the first time in a very, very long time, he could feel the ghost of a smile crossing his face. He was never one to believe in the supernatural, more interested in believing what he could see and confirm with his own two eyes, or better yet, fists, but he would be lying if he denied the feelings of hope and warmth that filled his chest upon reading those words. It almost seemed as if all he had to do was close his eyes and he'd be wrapped in his baby brother's comforting embrace once more.

With a sigh, he again leaned forward and fixed his gaze on the polished stone in front of him.

"I hope so."

Suddenly feeling a rush of embarrassment over his grossly sentimental behavior, he quickly straightened up and cleared his throat.

"So, uh, the comic." He reached over to grab it and held it in front of him, the cover facing the gravestone. "You did like this one, right? I just kind of grabbed it. But since I brought it I could, well, read it to you, I guess. I know I'm not as good at giving everyone weird voices like Donnie used to, but you'll just have to deal with it. I'm sure you've already read this thing a million times anyway."

Bringing the well worn comic up to his face, he turned to the first page and began to read aloud. He felt a bit awkward about it at first, but as the ridiculous story began to unfold, his wooden exterior vanished and his voice grew more animated. As he read along, he'd add in his own commentary, often wondering how such a jumbled mess had ever gotten published in the first place, and occasionally he would even find himself showing the offending page to the unresponsive headstone. Upon reaching the final page, he carefully put it back down on top of the paper bag and picked up the pizza gyoza.

Opening the doggie bag, he was grateful to discover that Murakami-san had provided him with two small plates and two sets of chopsticks. Dividing up the dumplings, making sure to give Mikey a few extra as he'd always been such a pig, he gently set his little brother's plate down in front of headstone, chopsticks resting neatly on top of the tall stack, before diving into his own. The long ride and whirlwind of emotions had left him feeling drained and ravenous, so it didn't take him long to scarf down the delicious morsels. Once he'd finished, however, he was unable to help himself from snatching one more off of the top of his brother's pile.

"You had extra anyway," he said with a smirk as he swallowed the last bite.

Throwing his used plate and chopsticks back into the doggie bag, he suddenly let out a loud yawn. It struck him that he hadn't slept in over a day, and as another yawn escaped from his mouth, he stretched his tired limbs and sprawled out onto the grass. With a weary sigh, he muttered a quiet good night as his eyelids slid closed. Just before he slipped from consciousness, a warm breeze washed over his skin, and a content smile settled on his face.

He hadn't actually meant to sleep outside. His plan was to take a nap inside the farmhouse before returning home. But as his eyes fluttered open, he soon realized that it was already dusk; he'd slept the entire day away lying in the grass next to his brother's grave. The thought struck him as more than a little morbid, but he somehow felt more at peace then he had all year. Pushing himself up off of the ground, he stretched and lazily glanced around him.

While he had carelessly left the comic out and open to the elements, he was relieved to see it just as it was before. Picking it up, he opened the paper bag and placed it back inside. Turning back to the small gravestone, he was surprised to find most of the gyoza gone, with only a few dumplings remaining completely untouched. The chopsticks were settled neatly in the grass in front of the plate.

It had to have been some birds or forest creatures who'd taken the offering, but he couldn't help but notice that there were only three remaining, the exact amount of extra portions that Raph had left for his baby brother. A lump formed in his throat. Whispering a quiet thank you, he ate the remaining gyoza. As soon as he'd finished, he quickly snatched up the trash, put it inside the doggie bag, and threw that into the bag with the comic book. Before he could hurry back to the barn to retrieve his motorcycle, however, he paused and tentatively reached out a lightly trembling hand to touch the polished stone.

"I won't wait so long to visit again. I promise."

He took a deep breath, willing the moisture in his eyes not to fall.

"I love you, little brother."

With that he finally stood. Tucking the bag under his arm, he directed a short nod toward the grave before turning toward the barn.

"See you soon."

Once inside the old, wooden building, he traded the paper bag for his riding clothes and got dressed. Pulling his bike out of the barn, he placed his helmet on his head and climbed onto it, quickly starting it up and revving the engine. And as he slowly started down the dirt path back to the main road, a warm breeze swirled up from behind him, tickling his exposed hands, feet, and neck.

With a grin and a wave, he was gone.

A/N: This was one of my left over prompts. I meant to start working on a longer story, but this one really wanted to be written right now, so who was I to argue? Always love the excuse to write about Raph and Mikey, after all.

As always, critics and grammar police appreciated!