"Leave me out with the waste
this is not what I do.
It's the wrong kind of place
to be thinking of you.
…it's a small crime
and I've got no excuse." - 9 Crimes, Damien Rice
Chapter 3 – Small Crimes
The morning air hit him, humid and heavy. He felt the coolness from the subterranean levels evaporating off his flesh as he ascended the building's fire escape. His body had broken out into a clammy sweat as he strode across the apartment's roof. In the distance the morning traffic roared its low thrum of mechanical noise, pierced by the wailing of sirens. Raphael sniffed at the warm breeze, a light haze hung within the dang air. The sun was obscured by a gray cast of clouds that made the sky more a sickly yellow than anything resembling blue.
His face throbbed from the blows Leo had landed. He swallowed and tasted the last remnants of blood that had pooled in the corners of his mouth. He swallowed it back and smack his lips with the bitter taste. His tongue probed the slightly swollen side of his inner cheek. His teeth has sliced a decent gash there, but like most wounds to the mouth, it had stopped bleeding soon after it was cut. He huffed through his nose and leaned against the shadow of a stairwell shelter. He ran a palm over his face. Regret pulled at him.
"I'm an asshole," he mumbled, remembering the shocked look on Leo's face as he blamed him for waking Master Splinter with his cries of panic from the nightmare that he was gripped in. If only the stubborn ass would just confide in them and spill what had happened to him, then . . . Raphael sighed. At least, he'd understand why his brother suffered like he did. He was trying to hide it. Leonardo was never a good liar. Raph and Don and hell, even Mikey knew he was hiding something from them. And with everyone focused on Master Splinter's declining mental health, it was easy to overlook a few nightmares and withdrawn behavior. But Raph knew Leo too well. Something lingered from that night when they were separated. It lingered and festered like an unattended wound. His brother was hurting. But he wasn't the only one.
The real problem was, nothing had been settled after they got back to the lair. Everyone slipped into familiar patterns without much thought. Splinter's mental decline only made it easier for everyone to forget about the events of their capture. Leo clammed up and focused on Splinter nearly every minute of the day tending to him; talking him down from his violent outburst and mad ramblings. Raph went back to his familiar routine, hoping that the more he fought with the punching bag, the less he'd think of losing her. It wasn't as if he just forgot that Leonardo had been tortured. He just didn't know what had been done to him. And he accepted that it was all his fault they were ever captured.
Raph had wanted to apologize, but he never quite found the right time to open up to Leo about the night they were caught. Every time he did try to approach it, Leo got elusive and slipped away from him either by literally leaving the room or changing the subject as if Raph never even started to talk. And it pissed him off so he stomped off to his own corner of the lair. But how could he move on and let go of all the frustration and guilt when he couldn't forget that night? The night of their fight in the industrial park. Where he'd gone in hopes of seeing her again. An uncomfortable emotion swept through Raph and he shifted.
Enough moping. He needed to move.
They weren't allowed to go topside in broad daylight, but he had to get away from them. Leo had better get a grip on himself and start leading like he was supposed to. No matter what had been done to him. Raph huffed. He needed to get over it already. The family was falling apart. They needed Splinter to get better. They needed Leo to fix things.
He broke out into a dash and leapt clear of the space between to the next, repeating until he made his way to the more shadowy neighborhoods where he'd get his fill of busting heads. After a while, he stood, glancing down from a fire escape into the alley between an abandoned building and a liquor store. Sure enough, out from the delivery door in the side of the building, two men backed out. One bald and taller than the other by a good head. By their body language Raph could tell they were up to no good. That and the gun clutched in the shorter man's grip. He tucked it quickly into the back of his jeans, cradling the box of liquor with one arm awkwardly. The tall one held a plastic bag filled with money. They cackled and whooped with their score.
As they turned to dash down the alley, Raph dropped in front of them. He rose slowly to stand. The wicked points of his deadly weapons gleamed. The criminals came up short and gasped. The short man dropped the box; the bottles clanged against each other. He scrambled backwards with clumsy frantic movements. His bulging eyes were glued to Raphael's face, clear and exposed in the daylight. His mouth hung open in a silent scream of disgust and incomprehension.
Raph sneered at him, curling his lip to expose one curved canine; his bright green eyes glittered in the shadows. "Scary, I know," he rumbled.
The man screamed. Before Raph could throw a punch, the man was down the length of the alley, running in a blind panic. "Dammit," Raph murmured disappointed that the coward was too craven to even put up a fight. He really needed to blow off some steam. He twisted as he caught movement from the corner of his eye. The tall guy slipped a pair of brass knuckles over his hands and brought his fists up. A smile pulled the corners of Raph's mouth up as he twirled his sais and stuck them back into his belt. He shifted his legs and brought his fists up.
"Let's dance, pal," he said.
The guy stared at him with empty gray eyes. Raph tensed. Then he came in fast and swinging. Raph bobbed and ducked. He chuckled but it was cut short as the man followed up with a swift round house kick. Raph jumped to the side, lurching just out of reach. The guy was into martial arts? Fine by me. That only makes it better, he thought grimly.
"Nice form ya got there, Baldy," Raph taunted. "Just not as pretty as mine," he said as he threw a side kick and swung his fist out in a series of moves that would've made even Leonardo proud.
The man wove around the attacks and blocked the ones he couldn't dodge effectively. Raph huffed. This was getting old. Baldy was fast, too. Not fast enough. The brass knuckles gleamed as his fist flew just past Raph's cheek. Taking the fraction of a second he gained by the crook's forward momentum, Raph came up in a blur and landed a solid blow to the guy's midsection. He heard the man's breath puff out but could barely believe it as he shook it off like nothing happened.
A flash of white blinded him for a second and the gash inside his mouth reopened. Blinking, both in shock and to clear his doubled vision, Raph staggered back and caught himself enough to dodge the man's boot as it flew out at his face from the side. Blood pooled in Raphael's mouth, sliding down his throat. His stomach lurched. Raph turned his head and spat a thick gob of blood. It sprayed across the gravel in a crimson arc.
Raph took two steps forward, chin covered in blood, snarling; he jumped up and spun. His foot connected with the man square in the chest. He flew back, but Raph dropped and sprung; he stayed right on top of him, hammering him with his fists. Baldy brought his forearms up to block, but Raph barreled through him. They continued to stagger backwards. Raph's biceps bunched as he came in low and then finished him with an upper cut that slammed the guy into the bricks of the abandoned building. The back of his head went through a partially broken window. The impact shattered the remaining glass. It rained down over the man's bowed head as he slid to the ground with a low groan.
Raph stood panting before him; shaking out his left fist. Knuckles sore, mouth throbbing, chest heaving, adrenaline pumping. He didn't hear her until it was too late. His fighting instinct in high gear: tuned sharply to only react and not think.
"Nice," a soft voice said from behind him and he spun; sai in hand, but not for long. He threw it and as it slipped from his fingers, his eyes widened in horror; mouth dropping open to scream in denial at the events playing out in sickening slow motion in front of his vision.
The sai flew forward. The aim true. If she hadn't been trained for the past few years with the Foot it would have surely met its destination square in the center of her trachea. But Deborah was able to just tilt her head as she lurched to one side. Instead of the weapon piercing her throat, only the curved prong caught her and slid into her delicate flesh. The long straight blade had merely grazed the side of her neck, leaving a long, shallow gash. The sai pinned her backwards against the liquor store. Her back slammed into the bricks and the breath was forced out from her lungs. Raph crossed the distance between them and was on her in a second.
"No!" his voice cracked, "Oh, oh fuck!"
She grimaced as he grabbed the hilt of his sai and pulled it free from the wall with a sharp yank and an aggravated cry of distress. The puncture wound was the size of a dime and had missed her larynx by a fraction of an inch. As he freed the prong of his sai, the wound spilled a curtain of blood, making Raph gasp. Her face paled and Deborah fell forward. He caught her in the crook of his elbow and felt the strength in his legs give out. What had he done? He just murdered the woman of his dreams. The only woman he'd ever loved. The first and only woman he'd ever kissed. Probably the only woman he'd ever get the chance to kiss. His breath hitched in his throat. His voice bubbled up through his swollen mouth, only to make strangled, frightened sounds that were so foreign to him, he briefly thought they were coming from Deborah.
She squirmed in his fumbling grasp and he felt the warmth of her blood on his bicep as she struggled against his hold. Panic lanced him, blanking his mind and he only gripped her more tightly. His face darted around the alley. In the distance, cars honked and sirens blared. The mundane world carried on all around him and it seemed to mock him in his desperate state. The only thing he could think of was that he needed to put pressure on the wound and why the fuck did he throw his sai without checking who had spoken. Was he that careless? That uncontrolled? Splinter would be furious. If he were coherent, he thought with a pang that hurt more than he'd expected.
He started as her fist came up and punched him in the chest. And then again. Her fist splayed out and she pushed against him. He didn't budge. She strained against him and finally he caught on and released her, backing up on his knees to give her some space. He ducked his head low, trying to see her face hidden beneath a curtain of blond tendrils. Her hands pressed against her throat. Her blue eyes snapped up through her bangs and narrowed. He swallowed and the thick blood that went down soured his stomach. He ignored everything as he looked at the woman before him. How could he have done something so stupid? His face crushed down into a mask of anguish.
"D-Deborah, oh god. Can I . . . C-Can I . . . Are you . . .?"
"What . . . the fuck!"
Raph blinked. His face burned as he stared at her as she leaned back. With the back of one shaking hand, she brushed the hair from her face. She looked pale, but her eyes flashed with fury in his direction. She pulled a wad of tissues out from the side pocket of her jacket. He saw her hands tremble as she folded it and pressed it into the wound. She swore softly again under her breath and closed her eyes.
Guilt weighed on him, but Raph felt his initial fear being swallowed up with anger now that he knew she wasn't dying. What was she thinking sneaking up on him in the middle of a battle? Was she that stupid or just crazy? A wave of mixed emotions swept through him. Relief, anger, happiness, anxiety; it all tumbled into a ball of knotted feelings that left his head spinning.
It had been months since he last saw her. Nine months, two weeks and three days, to be exact. Not that he was counting. His throat worked and he did his best to imagine that the reason his heart was pounding so uncomfortably was due to the adrenaline from the fight and not just because she was near. Because he had held her in his arms, briefly though it was, it was enough for him to catch the light lavender scent that had drifted from her hair, the strangely attractive salty, earthy scent of her sweat and the lingering smell of roses from her clothes. No, he was not that weak. His heart was pounding because of the fight and the shock of having nearly killed a bystander.
After all, she didn't want him. Not him or his pathetic love. She had said as much on that roof those long months ago when he'd blurted that he loved her like a complete moron. She'd only looked at him with a sort of sad pity that haunted him in quiet moments. She had no feelings like that for him. It was all a misunderstanding. Besides, who would? He was a freak. And she was a human; not to mention gorgeous. But he wasn't anything; not human or turtle. He was nothing. Nothing worth loving. He just had to remember that fact and he'd be golden where she was concerned. His mind raced along with his heart so desperately he clung to the boiling anger like a lifeline.
"What the hell were you doin' sneakin' up on me?"
He stood up and took a step back. He hooked his thumb into his belt and cast a look down the alley. Baldy was still out cold and no cops in sight. No alarms sounded. Dimly, he hoped the crooks hadn't killed the liquor store owner. He caught movement as Deborah used the wall to inch her way up to standing. Raph eyed her, keeping his head turned away. Trying his best to look unconcerned. Though he had to stop himself from reaching out to her when she swayed. Angry with himself, he pried his tongue into the gash in his mouth and internally swore at the pain. It steadied him nicely.
"Well, I thought rat-dad taught you how to control yourself," she spat and looked glumly at her palm coated in red. Her head was sending sharp shooting pains through her skull and the wound at her neck was a searing, throbbing pain. The little accident with the turtle's sai was going to leave a mark for sure. Saki would notice. Fuck. She was meeting him for dinner tomorrow night. How would she explain this? Lost in her distress, she didn't notice how the turtle stiffened at her off-hand remark.
Raph bristled at the insult aimed at his father. He took a step towards her.
"Don't call 'em that, you understand me?" He raised a finger and pointed it at her. She was disrespectful at best when it came to Splinter. And though he wasn't a golden boy like Leo when it came to their father, there was no way he was going to let some chick insult him. The anger he was feeling roared into life. His hands fisted and he took a half-step away. It was so much easier to deal with her like this. Easier to back off and give himself some breathing room. Because being this close was too much like not being able to breathe at all.
"Why don't you get outta here," he grumped and folded his arms across his chest.
She huffed; ignoring his warning and did the most stupid thing: she pulled the bloody wad of tissues away from her throat and gingerly prodded the wound. Stars and bubbles filled her vision as her legs turned to water and her stomach fell. She made a gurgling noise that might have been, oh god, as she stumbled forward. Raph's eyes went wide and for the second time in less than fifteen minutes, he caught her in his arms. Her soft curves pressed into him and her scent hit him making his knees go weak. He cleared his throat.
"Hey, easy. Why'dya have to poke it? Christ that was stupid. What're they teachin' you in the Foot?"
Deborah frowned up at him. "Dunno, but . . ." Her eyes grew round as her stomach heaved and Raph stiffened as he braced himself for her vomit on him. But it never came. She raised a finger. "I need a band aid." Her legs crumpled and Raph steadied her. "And an aspirin." He twisted, feeling exposed and helpless.
"Uh, I don't really have anything like that on me . . ." he started and he was struck with inspiration. He looked down at her. "But I know where we can get some."
Deborah nodded dreamily, "Yes, please," she slurred.
He wrapped his arm around her back and helped her walk towards the fire escape. He leaned her against the building as he jumped up and caught the lower part of the metal bars. With a heave and a scream of metal on metal, he pulled it down. He turned to help her up and stopped to find her gone.
He twisted to find her coming up from rummaging around the box the crook had dropped. In one fist she held up a bottle of dark brown whiskey. She swayed and cocked an eyebrow at him and shook the bottle in her grip. She twisted the cap and raised the bottle. Raph tensed as he saw her take a deep swallow, then wince with a grimace.
"Sustenance . . . to help get through the pain."
Raph shook his head in a mix of admiration and disgust. What was her deal? He realized with a start that he actually hardly knew her at all. The few moments they had shared together over a year ago didn't exactly add up to a friendship; hell not even an acquaintance. She saved him from the Foot. They'd spoken a handful of words to each other. And she'd kissed him – twice. Once hello and once goodbye. What did that even make her to him? He swallowed dryly and his eyes raked over her.
She made quite a sight: one hand pressing on the gash in her throat, the blood covering her chest, swaying and holding that bottle of booze in her other hand. He felt an unexpected surge of desire that made his face flush deeply. The back of his neck heated up, he ducked his head, internally cursing himself for being an idiot to entertain such feelings. Why was he torturing himself like this? Maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he deserved it. And much worse. Feeling uncomfortable, he wetted his dry lips and found himself at a loss for words.
She was a foot away when she looked at him up and down and said, "Turtles like booze, don't they?"
A wave of humiliation swept through him; at her words; at the way she had sized up his appearance with an open curiosity of a kid examining a weird animal. His stomach sank. He'd been so wrong about her, about everything. He was a damn fool. "Since you're feeling so much better, maybe you can just walk yourself to the hospital." He turned away from her coldly and moved to climb up the fire escape.
"Hey!" Deborah shook her head and stumbled into him; grabbing his shoulder with a bloodstained hand. He froze. "Don't forget who's to blame here, Red," she said and came up close, her curves pressed into him. He glanced sideways at her, wondering if she even remembered his name. Their eyes met and locked. Green on blue.
Her voice dropped to a purr, "So . . . you have to take care of me now."
He blinked at her; his green eyes sparked with intensity. His arm circled around her waist protectively. He pressed her closer without thinking. His heart hammered as he looked down into her slightly dazed eyes, her partially opened lips. His thoughts scattered. The blood rushed through his ears as he watched her lips form the words she said next.
"Will you, Raphael?" she asked and her head lulled onto his shoulder.
Hearing his name on her lips did something powerful to him. In one swift move he shifted; reached down and gathered her up in the crook of his elbow. With one arm he held her snug to his body as he climbed. The muscles in his arms and legs bunched and he grunted softly from the effort. But he got them both up the building in a matter of minutes. Once on the roof, he swept his free arm under her legs. She cradled the bottle on her stomach. Her cheek rested on his upper chest; listening to the rapid hammering of his caged heart and the even bursts of his breathing as he ran.
She hadn't meant for things to go down like this. When she left the lavish suite provided to her by Oroku Saki, she had only set out in the dimmest of hopes of coming across him. Knowing that the rougher neighborhoods were the best place to seek him out. Every time a Purple Dragon was found beaten and left for the police, she knew whose handy work it was. So, she'd gravitated to the areas that she'd heard the turtles were often spotted in. Not really sure if she'd be the one ending up in a fight with a gang member, or just resign herself to roaming the back alleys fruitlessly; her mind roaming on all the mistakes she'd made since that last time she saw him. His face when he confessed his feelings to her. How she said nothing. How crushed he looked; how quickly he'd tried to hide the hurt; failing miserably.
In the deepest recesses of her mind, she knew that he most likely still felt strongly for her. And right now she just needed to bask in that without the pressure of her hidden agenda. She needed him to blot out the mixed emotions and guilt; the confusion and the feeling of being torn in half; one side of her wanting peace and the other lusting for blood. She had only wanted to see him, maybe talk to him, if she were lucky.
Now all she wanted to do was nestle into his strong arms, breathing in his unique scent of earthy soil and forged steel over the coppery, raw scent of her own blood. She closed her eyes and ignored the way her neck ached and her head pounded. She let him carry her away from her troubles, away from her guilt and self-hatred; away from Saki and his slow, steady, seduction and her burgeoning, confusing feelings for him.
Raphael didn't think as he ran. Couldn't if he tried. He only knew that he was holding Deborah in his arms after not seeing her for nearly a year. Aching for something that could never be. Dreaming all those nights, despite his anger at himself, at the situation, of the impossible notion of loving someone and being loved in return. Holding her tightly against his chest as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop heading towards the hideout he and his new friend and fellow vigilante used in case of emergencies; the bitterness and frustration, the guilt and the self-loathing, his father's sickness, his brother's secrets, all faded into the background noise of traffic below.
A/N: So, needless to say, Deborah is not quite in the right frame of mind. But then again, the life she's lived has shaped her into a complex and slightly unbalanced person. Well see if she's the balm to Raph's nerves or the poison that will take him down. What do you think?
