Raphael groped for the trash can beside his bed, still blinded by the images behind his eyes. There was no light to search by; he slept with his door shut and bolted, usually with no need to know the location of his furniture in the dark. The sickness had taken him suddenly, and addled by sleep and violent nausea, he was unable to do more than roll onto the floor before he vomited. He heaved again and again, forced to all fours by his lurching stomach. Bile, mucus, and partially digested pizza were expelled through his raw throat and lips, dripping off the end of his beak as the nightmare and his stomach's twisting subsided. He coughed and spat, trying to rid himself of the taste. Away from his hammock and regrettably awake, he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and reached to flick the switch on the small reading lamp.
He rubbed a hand over his face. Been a while since I've had one like that.
The last time had been - what? Two years ago? Three? - when they were still living out in the sewer system. He and his brothers had shared the common room for entertainment, training, and sleep. Leo and Don had tactfully ignored him, but Mikey had taken one look at the mess and nearly been sick himself.
He sigh at the memory, spat again, and stood. The clock beside the lamp read 4:00am. Sensei would be up soon, and the others soon after that. Best he go down now, before anyone caught a whiff of the sweat or puke on him. He was taken slightly aback at the cool, fresh air that filled the halls and wafted into the fetid stench of regurgitation. The door shut with a careful click, and he made his way down to the kitchen.
Mikey had begged off cooking duty, so pizza was the default entree. The stack of empty boxes in the garbage bin swayed uncertainly as he passed. Soft blue light lay across the stone threshold, chairs, and table, the large crystal chandelier having plenty of light to share. Crimson sauce stains dotted the aged wood, as though something had been slaughtered upon it. The thought made the knots in his stomach tighten suddenly.
With a groan, he shook himself and pulled a cold soda from the fridge. He sipped it as he contemplated the nightmare's return. He knew what had brought it on: he'd nicked Donatello during a sparring session the day before. He grimaced to himself. "Nick" was probably too gentle a term for the gash on his brother's upper arm.
Donatello brought the bo down from above his head, with a force that would have shattered Raphael's skull had it connected. Raph blocked high, grinning. This was one of Donnie's favorite moves. He stepped back, preparing to thrust low and hard to catch the reverse sweep that would follow. It was a powerful attack, or at least would have been had Don completed it. With horror, Raph realized a half a second too late that his low jab was on a collision course with Donatello's shoulder, the latter having begun to stoop for a drop kick. The sai entered Don's shoulder with a meaty thunk, neatly severing skin, muscle, and connective tissue on its way through.
Donnie stiffened and dropped his staff with a grunt before collapsing rather ungracefully into a bleeding heap. The sai wasn't quite buried to the hilt, but it was close enough. Raph had been struck dumb by his carelessness and could only watch in silence as Donnie's grasped at the wound, paused momentarily to measure its depth, then grit his teeth and pulled the blade out. Blood came out in a gush so sudden that his family was reanimated. Leonardo bolted for the lab, looking for a first aid and surgical kit. Splinter and Michelangelo raised a swearing Don into a sitting position.
Splinter spoke sharply. "Raphael. Remove your weapons."
He barely remembered tossing aside his other sai and his belt before coming to his injured brother's side. Donnie winced as he gave directions. "Master Splinter, heat the needle over a fire. A...match will do. Raph." Raphael jerked. "You and Mikey told it open. Leo, clean it. Iodine."
They scrambled to follow his orders, pulling off gore encrusted elbow pads and wrist braces. Michelangelo hovered over Don with a look of concern. The latter tried for a reassuring smile only to have it morph into a hideous snarl as the iodine seeped into the wound. Of them all, Donatello had the neatest hand at suturing, but Leonardo was the fastest. They all sat in silence as he worked, listening to the deceptively soothing thwip, schiiick, thwip, schiick of the needle piercing flesh and pulling the silk thread through. Donnie had gone pale and clammy, having refused all pain medication until the job was done. Leo pulled the thread tightly and knotted it. He tugged gently at his work, checking its security, before giving Don's leg a brief squeeze and allowing him to relax into oblivion.
Raphael could feel his arms tingle, remembering the weight of his unconscious brother in a fireman's carry. They'd left him asleep on the couch, but he'd woken up an hour later and trudged off to his lab. Raph ran a hand across his head and sat down. He scratched absently at the flecks of red on the wood.
Still early. Maybe I can get in a run before practice.
He'd about made up his mind to wipe up the mess and leave when a shadow crossed the threshold. His head snapped up as Donnie shuffled into the room, his gait thrown off by the thick layer of bandages.
"It's been a while since I've seen you up this late."
"Yeah, couldn't really sleep. Sorry," he added with a nod at his brother's arm.
Donatello shrugged with his good shoulder. "Accidents happen." He gave an ironic smile. "I thought you kept those things dulled."
Raphael returned the smile. "So did Master Splinter. Yer really lucky you were unconscious for that part."
The tongue lashing after the harried surgery had been one of the worst he'd ever gotten and was followed by two straight hours of sai work against bokken and the training post. The wooden beatings had sufficiently dulled his blades to butter knives.
A thought struck him. "Why are you up anyway?"
Donnie grimaced. "Pain. Came to get something to chase the medicine with."
Raph pushed the half empty cola toward him. He accepted with a grateful nod, tossed back two pills, and chugged the rest of the beverage. They sat together quietly, each entertaining their own thoughts. Raph almost thought that Don had fallen asleep with his head in his hands when the latter glanced up with a knowing look.
"What was it this time?" He asked gently.
Raphael felt his shoulders tense. "Toldja, couldn't sleep."
"You've never gotten sick quietly, Raph," Don patiently pointed out. "And never like that unless you've been dreaming."
Raph sat very still, to reign in his trembling before he spoke. "It don't happen of'en, but..." His eyes glinted with dark curiosity. "Ya ever think about the first time ya killed? The first time ya meant to, I mean."
Donnie looked surprised. "Of course." He shuddered. "It's not really anything you forget."
Raph snorted. Master Splinter had made sure of that.
It had been close to a year now that they had had real weapons. Splinter had surprised them on their last birthday with the ninjaken, bo, sai, and nunchaku and had begun in earnest to train them int the safe handling and maintenance of them. Each of the brothers was beginning to show a preference, and as such, Splinter had announced that after this morning's lesson, he would begin to train each of the four to be a master of an art. There had never been any ten year olds more excited.
"Before we begin the lessons of mastery, my sons, I would like each of you to present yourself and your chosen weapon to me. You may train with whatever weapons you choose at any time this week, but make your personal selections within this time frame."
Michelangelo had been the first. Within a day, he had come bounding to Splinter's door brandishing the nunchaku. Splinter nodded with approval and beckoned Mikey aside. Mikey's eyes went wide at Splinter's hushed instructions, but he gave a shaky nod, took up his weapons and followed the old rat out into the maze of sewer. The other three had twittered amongst themselves. Solo missions with Splinter and real weapons?! How incredibly lucky was Mikey!
Only...maybe he wasn't. When they returned, Splinter was carrying Mikey, who appeared to have exhausted himself crying. Splinter said nothing to his other three sons as he passed, going to lay Michelangelo on the cot in the common room. He pried the nunchaku out of limp fingers and sat beside his youngest son. From inside of his robe, he removed an old orange mask and tore it into four long lengths, binding a ribbon around each of the four sticks. Raising the paired weapons above his head, he blessed them in Japanese and laid them at Mikey's feet.
Over the next two days, the others were a bit more cautious with their choosing, but the time came when Leonardo knew he could no longer deny his calling. He lifted the ninjaken from the weapon rack and knocked hesitantly on their master's door. Raphael and Donatello huddled together, anxious as they saw Leo give the same bewildered nod to the whispered directions and turn to follow Splinter. Mikey pretended not to have seen. Leo and Master Splinter were gone longer than Mikey and Splinter, but the outcome was the same. Leo's face was tear streaked and pale, and as soon as he was over the threshold, he sunk to his knees and puked. Splinter had stayed close until he was through, wiped his mouth, then taken the swords and a tattered blue cloth and sat beside Leo's cot.
The next day, Don took a deep breath and rapped expectantly on his sensei's door, bo in hand. His face was passive as Splinter presumably gave him the same words as he had the others. He nodded to his master and they headed out. Later, Donnie returned ahead of Splinter, face flushed from running. He made a bee line to the covered corner he'd marked as his "lab," stole behind the hanging sheets, and began throwing things. Raph could hear carefully collected beakers and mason jars shattering as they hit the wall. The cacophony died down some minutes before Splinter entered the lair. Again, he repeated the ritual blessing of the weapon and laid it at the foot of Donatello's cot. As he stood, he fixed his last son in a sad stare. Raph liked nothing he saw in those eyes at that moment.
Long after Splinter retired for the evening, Raphael was still turning restlessly to and fro on his pallet. He felt a wisp of movement beside him. Leo had risen to pace, trying to wear himself out to sleep. Perfect.
Raph cornered his (slightly) older brother by the door, far enough from the others to talk. "So what happened to you guys?"
Leo started. " N-nothing."
"Like shell, 'nothin','" Raph snorted, entirely too irritated that he didn't know any better swear words. "All of ya have been actin' weird and none a ya 'll talk ta me about it. What gives?"
Leo looked like a caged animal, desperate to get out and away. "Master Splinter said no-"
"Splinter ain't awake right now. I won't tell, I just wanna know."
Leonardo kept his eyes down, afraid to look at his brother. He whispered, "He made us kill."
"What?"
"I said, 'He made us kill.'" Leo choked out. "So that we would know how...it felt. It was...they were strays, sick and dangerous, or the big rats that carry disease...they would have hurt someone eventually, but...still."
Raph laughed incredulously. "That's it? What's so hard about killin'?"
"It's not what's so hard, it's what's so easy, Raphael," snapped Leo sharply, sounding much, much older than ten. Then his gaze softened. "But you'll know that soon enough."
"You actually laughed?" Donnie's tone was some blend of amusement and horror.
Raph shrugged. "I was ten. I was cocky." Don gave him a long look. "Okay, okay, I'm still cocky, but its worse when yer young 'n' stupid enough to mix up bravado and courage."
Donnie was still giving him a dubious eye as he massaged his shoulder. "So? Was it easy for you?" The question was laced with more than a little bitterness.
Raph locked his fingers together behind his head, considering his answer. "Yeah..yeah, it was." His mouth was fixed in a taut line as he met Donnie's eyes. "But the dyin' was a whole helluva lot harder."
The next night was gonna be his night with Splinter, and he had wanted to show his brothers that something that came easy as killing was easy to do and live with. He was going to be fearless, fierce, and first to achieve mastery. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, popping in and out of manholes alone, looking for his victim. If Splinter caught him...well...better not to think of that. After almost two hours of searching, he hit the jackpot: a rabid, mangy cat no one would miss.
The cat had been more than willing to leap into the manhole after a snack sized turtle, fangs barred. Raph had been jubilant as the sai punctured the underbelly of the cat. The animal was foaming at the mouth, overtaken by delirium and rage. It raked its claws viciously upward, trying to gut the nimble turtle. Raph danced out of the way with ease, lashing out at the back and scraping a protruding vertebrae. The back limbs sagged, nerves deadened. The cat howled, army crawling away from his aggressor. At first Raph had been too giddy to notice the growing trail of blood and innards spreading across the tunnel floor. Then the poor creature fell into a mutilated heap. Raphael could see blood squirting with every heartbeat. He'd hit an artery; the dying would be fast.
But not fast enough.
It's breathing was harsh and labored, like a great monster on the prowl. It swung its head side to side, trying to shake off the pain and hallucinations. The useless bottom half of the animal had released its bowels, the stench of fresh urine and feces a sharp contrast to the diluted slop running through the trenches. A part of Raphael wished Master Splinter was there. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to just...well...just die and be dead and not making such a horrible noise and bleeding and pissing everywhere.
The cat panted, eyes growing wide. It was afraid. Raph inched closer, despite the hissing, reaching to pat the wavering head. A moan erupted from the feline's throat. The cat caught the young turtle's eye, laying its head aside, neck exposed...begging for an end.
"I cut him here." Raph touched a finger to his jugular. "And he died. It was after that, stayin' by the dyin' and then the dead, did I undastand."
"And the nightmares followed," Don mused.
Raph nodded. "Yeah, then them." He moved suddenly, grabbing Donatello's injured shoulder with force. "It was you. In my dream." The words spilled out before he could stop them. "We were sparring, and you dropped for the kick, but I didn't hit yer shoulder." He moved a finger to rest lightly on his brother's throat. Donatello felt his pulse accelerate as the finger pressed firm on his carotid.
"It was there." Raph's voice was hoarse. "And I couldn't be a murderer again."
