Chapter Two

Three days had passed since Raphael had regained consciousness.

The brothers had returned to their normal, everyday routines.

They spent their time practicing in the dojo, meditating, working around the Lair, and patrolling the rooftops at night.

The brothers had moved on with their lives. The recent fight had become a distant memory, not significant enough to remember, let alone talk about.

Or so they thought.

As the days continued, Raph struggled more.

He was exhausted, and when he wasn't working, he was sleeping. Yet, no amount of sleep ever seemed to be enough.

A constant migraine throbbed sharply between his eyes.

He felt flushed, yet his skin was clammy.

He felt moody and irritated. Even more than usual. He was quick to snap, and the smallest things were beginning to set him off.

He ate, but only because he had to. His stomach continued to writhe and churn violently. He forced himself to drink, only to keep himself hydrated.

Refusing to let his brothers see him in his weakest state, he pushed himself during practice and while patrolling, never letting his guard down. But, as the days went by, he found it more and more difficult to keep up.

A few times during recent practices, Donny had caught Raph leaning heavily against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Immediately, his expression showed concern and he moved closer to his brother.

"Hey, man. You okay?"

Straightening hastily, Raph looked annoyed. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine." His voice was cold.

Donny flinched slightly at the bite in his words. Yet, he accepted the curt answer, and nodding, backed away.

Donny turned and walked away. Raphael glared at his shell, unsure of where this aggression was coming from.

Donny had never done anything but help, so why treat him like this?

Ignoring his nagging conscience, Raphael let the anger engulf him as he moved back toward the practice mat.

He would prove to Donny that he was alright.

Leaving Raphael, Donny made his way over toward the punching bag where Leonardo was practicing his form. Grabbing the other side of the punching bag, Donny held it in place for Leo. Leo nodded his thanks and continued to punch and kick the bulky object.

Suddenly, he noticed his brother's face, and his punches ceased. "Hey, Don. What's wrong?"

Donatello snapped from his thoughts and turned his eyes to meet Leo's. "Has Raph been acting weird to you?"

"What?" Leo laughed and gave the bag a sharp jab. "He always acts weird."

Donny shook his head. "No . . . I mean . . . he's been more irritable lately. Hasn't he?"

Leo spun around swiftly and delivered a crushing blow to the bag. "He's always irritable. How can you tell if it's more?"

Donny looked toward the ground, dejected. His eyebrows knit together briefly, and he bit his lip. Leo wound up for his next attack, but abruptly stopped when he saw Don's face.

Walking around the punching bag, he gently laid his hand on Donny's shoulder. "Hey . . . you okay? What's wrong?"

Donatello looked up, his eyes full of thought. "I don't know . . . I mean, something just feels off, you know? I think that Raph's not telling us something . . . that something's going on with him. Something's different with him."

A small smile tugged on the corner of Leonardo's mouth. "Hey, look. Raph's fine. He knows to tell us if something is wrong. We've been working hard lately. He's probably just tired. We all are. . ."

Donny gave a half-hearted smile.

"Besides, if he wasn't feeling well, would he be doing that?" Leo tipped his chin in the direction of the practice mat where Raphael and Michelangelo were fervently sparring. Raphael had Mikey cornered, his teeth showing in a sneer. Suddenly, he leapt, catching Mikey off guard with a kick to the chest. Raphael landed softly, his eyes on fire as he looked down at his youngest brother.

Donny watched, and then sighed. "You're right. . . " he apologized. "I'm just being paranoid."

"Hey, you're not being paranoid . . . you're being concerned. There's a difference." Leo squeezed Donny's shoulder gently. "Just remember, he would tell us if something were wrong."

Donny glanced back over at Raphael, who was battling with Michelangelo once more. He studied their movements for a brief second, and his voice was soft when he finally spoke: "I hope so."

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Raphael leaned against the wall feeling lightheaded and queasy. He had pushed himself too hard.

He had felt it as soon as he cornered Mikey.

Mikey had put up a good fight, which made it more difficult for Raph to defeat him. Yet, unable to give Mike the satisfaction, Raphael had pushed himself with energy he didn't have.

His head throbbed painfully after their first sparring. He could barely stand on his feet after the second.

Now, the brothers were resting briefly before Master Splinter's final orders.

Raph stood, his arms crossed tightly across his plastron, breathing carefully. His body longed for more air, but he refused to pant, no matter how good it would feel. Instead, he forced each breath to enter through his nose, filling his lungs. Then, he held it momentarily before slowly releasing it. He continued this pattern, keeping his facial expressions straight and stern, blinking away the small spots that were beginning to form in front of his eyes.

His brothers stood a few feet away, laughing lightly about something. Raphael observed them for awhile, but as blackness began to creep into his peripherals, he opted to shut his eyes and breathe.

The sharp clapping of Master Splinters hands caused Raph to hastily open his eyes. The other three had also turned their attention toward their Sensei, who was standing near the door.

"For your final challenge today, I have set up four stations. Each of you is to rotate through these stations, completing each task. These tasks will test your reflexes, strength, observation, and wisdom: Each a necessary skill in the way of the ninja. You will have ten minutes at each station. If you fail a task, you must repeat it until you have succeeded. I trust that you will do this correctly. When you have completed all of the stations, you will meet me for your daily meditations. Are there any questions?"

Leonardo bowed. "No, Master Splinter."

Raphael rolled his eyes.

Splinter nodded once. "I shall leave you now. But," he glanced over at Michelangelo, "I expect these to be done correctly."

Mikey opened his mouth in protest, but Splinter cut him off with a gentle swish of his gnarled hand. "You may begin." Tapping a timer, he turned and disappeared through the door, his tail swinging gently.

As the timer began to tick metrically, the turtles each turned to a different station and focused their attention at the task at hand.

Raphael looked down at his challenge. Pieces of a puzzle were laid haphazardly around his feet. A message, written in Splinter's meticulous handwriting, lay next to the broken pieces. Sighing, he dropped down to his knees and picked up the note.

Scanning the words, he cringed as each movement of his eyes caused his head to painfully throb. Finally, he gave up, and set the note aside, unread.

Picking up a piece in each hand, he twisted and turned them, trying to get them to fit together. He knew that the answer was absolutely logical, but he was unable to focus. Frustrated, he threw them down and picked up two more.

As he tried to force them together, his head continued to throb, spots exploding in front of his eyes. He could feel the waves of nausea beginning to roll in the pit of his stomach again, and he put the pieces down. Leaning forward, he rested his hands on his thighs, his eyes shut.

Slowly, he breathed in and out.

Rhythmically. Matching the ticking timer.

And finally, the throbbing started to cease.

The dinging of the bell shook him from his meditations. Opening his eyes, he looked at the unfinished puzzle, the pieces still in their haphazard position. Splinter's instructions echoed in his head momentarily, and Raph scowled.

He didn't care.

Rolling back on his heels, he rocked himself up to a standing position.

It was too fast . . .

As he pushed himself vertical, Raphael paled and swayed slightly on his feet.

Donatello, who was walking toward his station, rushed forward and touched his arm lightly. "Raph?"

Raph pulled his arm away harshly, a scowl deeply etched across his face. Refusing to look at Donny, he stared straight ahead instead, toward a spot on the wall. "I'm fine."

Donny's brow furrowed. "No, you're not. Maybe you should go sit—"

Raph spun on him, cutting him off abruptly. His face contorted with a rage that Donny had never seen before and his words dripped with distain. "No, Don . . . maybe you should get off my shell and baby someone else!"

"Raphael!" Leo's voice was stern. "There's absolutely no need to talk to him like that! He's just trying to help."

Still scowling, Raph merely rolled his eyes and turned his shell on his older brother. Leonardo angrily lashed out and gripped Raph's arm.

Immediately, Raphael turned back, fire spilling out of his eyes. Leo's gaze matched his and they stood, unmoving, staring silent daggers at each other.

Raph's nostrils flared with each heated breath that he took. His eyes finally broke their gaze with Leo's and flickered toward Leo's grip on his forearm.

He stared at his brother's hand as if it were a disease.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, menacing growl. "Let go of my arm, Leo."

Leo didn't budge, his grip stubbornly remaining firm.

Raph focused his gaze back up to Leo's face, anger darkening his irises to a murky black. Absolute hatred boiled through his veins and filled his body. Without any thought, his fingers twitched slightly toward his sais.

Donatello's eyes widened as he witnessed Raph's threatening gesture. Instantly, he grabbed onto Leo's bicep. "Jesus, Leo . . . you're going to kill each other."

Loathing radiated between the two oldest brothers, yet both refused to tear their eyes from one another. Mikey stood a few feet away, unblinking, ready at a moments' notice to jump forward and grab Raphael.

"LEO!" Don's voice was sharp. He looked pleadingly at his leader, his voice growing softer. "Just let him go . . . it's not worth it."

Leo scoffed audibly. "You mean he's not worth it."

Before Raph could strike, Leo abruptly opened his hand wide, released Raph's arm. As Raph's arm dropped to his side, Leo turned and began to walk away.

"Yeah, that's right . . . WALK AWAY! Oh great and fearless leader." Raph's mocking tone was cold.

Leo's shoulders tensed slightly, but he continued to make his way out of the dojo.

Raph scoffed, expelling his breath in a quiet "pshh", but allowed the matter to be dropped. With one final glare at his brother's retreating shell, he finally turned and stalked heatedly in the opposite direction.

Donatello and Michelangelo stood rooted in the center of the practice mat, not quite sure of what had just happened. They watched as both brothers separated from one another, and then looked at each other.

"Um … what just happened, dude?" Confusion was evident on Mikey's face.

Donny rubbed his hand wearily across his face. "I don't know."

"Should we go after them?"

Donny dropped his arm to his side, and looked tiredly over to his youngest brother. He shook his head slightly and shrugged. "I don't kn—"

A loud thump cut him off unexpectedly. Donny jumped and turned, just in time to see Raphael fall, plastron down, onto the practice mat. His head was turned to the right, his cheek pressed against the mat, and arms were bent unevenly around his face.

"Oh, my God . . . Raph!" Hastily, Donny rushed over to his brother.

By the time Donny was at Raph's side, he was already starting to come to. He moaned as his hand came up to his forehead. Groggily, he rolled his eyes open.

Donny leaned over him and gently touched his shoulder.

Instantaneously, Raphael was alert, hatred returning to his eyes as his face worked its way into a sneer. "Get the fuck off of me, Don." He violently shoved Donny's hand away from his shoulder.

Mikey gasped in surprise.

Donny remained composed. "Why can't you just tell me what's wrong?"

Raph had struggled his way into a seated position. "BECAUSE NOTHING'S FUCKING WRONG!!"

The words echoed loudly around the dojo, causing Mikey to noticeably flinch.

Raph sat, breathing heavily . . .

angrily . . .

painfully.

The effort it took to raise his voice was too much, and suddenly, Raph began cough violently. Then, he was bent over, the coughs shaking his body.

He couldn't stop.

He couldn't breathe.

He was hyperventilating.

He covered his mouth tightly, and tried to pull air deep into his lungs.

The coughing wouldn't cease, and he felt pain deep in his gut.

He bent further over, one hand still covering his mouth, the other one balanced on the mat.

He coughed once more, and felt something loosen in his chest.

Then . . . something wet on his hands.

He pulled his hand away from his mouth and stared.

His breath caught in his throat and he could feel more coughs building in his chest.

His breathing started coming in gasps, and as his heart beat relentlessly in his plastron, he fell forward, lightheaded.

Blood splattered across his palm, dark and alien-like. He stared at it, unwilling to believe that this was his blood.

Blood that was now where it didn't belong.

Contrasting against his skin.

"Donny . . ." Raphael's voice shook between gasps. "I think something's wrong. . . "