Webbed Glass

Chapter 4

Two weeks, fourteen days he had waited. Raphael had left after making sure that Michelangelo was going to be well looked after once the sea-green turtle had left the room to relieve his stomach of its contence. He had told his little brother to be good, to rest up while he was gone. He had told him to listen to Donatello and take whatever medicine their brother came up with no matter how nasty. He had told him all of this in his eyes, not in words. In words he had said he expected him to be better in a months time. Michelangelo had wanted to tell him to get better himself, to stay home, to keep that sorrowful hurt at bay that was deep with in his being. But all that came out what a choked sigh, and all he could do was watch his brother leave while Leonardo rubbed his face with a damp cloth to keep any raising fever at bay. Leonardo had assured Raphael that everything would be fine, that their baby brother was going to be well watched over. Raphael listened. It made the youngest feel sour inside, it wasn't hate, just a type of frustration. He wanted to be listened to, he wanted to be able to find his voice and tell everyone about that hurt deep inside and how if Raphael left it would only grow because he would be alone. No, they both would be alone. He would not have that sent to fill in that void that was growing with each night his emerald brother had a bad dream, and Raphael would be vulnerable to the demons that lurked deep inside that place that had no names and no location. Two weeks have passed since then, brothers and father with watchful eyes as the youngest grew more peculiar daily. His sighs from the table or couch heavy and long, his pacing feet soft and dragging. They did not understand he was trying to come up with a plan to join the one he cared for, the one that needed him there by his side. Each plan he came up with he would be stopped, he would be lectured for and forced to stay home. To come out and tell them straight up what he surmised was... not his place to say. Raphael would be angry with him, Raphael would yell at him, maybe hit him. Worse yet, Raphael may hate him for it. That thought made the hurt worse, he never wanted his family to disapprove of him, but Raphael... to have him disapprove, to hate...

Michelangelo rubbed his hand over his upper arm trying to get the chills to leave. He didn't want that, it really would be a living nightmare to him if that happened. He shook his head. Why was Raphael's approval, his opinion, so important all of the sudden? When did he start fearing of being pushed away? When did he start to become jealous of Raphael's relationship with Leonardo? It wasn't like they had an interest in each other, other than brother hood. They fought, a lot, butted heads more often than agreed, but that didn't mean... What if there was a possibility of a relationship deeper than that? The orange clad turtle put a hand to his mouth feeling queasy. The thought was not disgusting, it was unsettling. It was frightening. The thought was hard to swallow, it refused to be digested and was just thrown back to wherever it had come from as he paced and silently told himself that it wouldn't happen. That was when he stopped walking, looking down at the floor, eyes tracing whatever they could find until they had risen to rest on the punching bag. He could still see his brother punching at the bag, each hit practiced and hard. His mind cleared of the worries for moment, his ears still picking up the whispers of the past, the grunts the padded punches, it was soothing to him. He needed Raphael there, he needed him close so that he knew he was safe, so he could help. That's when a thought came to him.

Do I... love Raphael more than I should?

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There was no more coffee, no more tea, the food supply was getting low and he was running on empty. Today was the mark of his seventeenth day of no sleep. Last time he tried was when he first got to the place. He could still see the eyes being sowed shut with thick string, mouths opening, screams echoing the room before there was a sickening wet popping sound. It was a disgusting terror, he had refused to eat for two days afterwards. That was one of the ones he could handle, a nightmare he was used to seeing now. It never set well with him whenever he saw it, it never would. He hated the sight, the sounds, it always made him feel gnarled and twisted inside. But compared to the other ones he was fine with having that one, he would prefer it. The ones that he was having recently, they sent a chill down his spine in waking hours. Their hidden darkness had no limitations to the disgust and filth they thought to coat him with. Their mere images made him feel filthy, settling a feeling in his heart that if he were to reach out his hand and touch one of his brothers that he might taint them. He never wanted to give them this shadow of broken dreams, he wanted Leonardo to remain the strong leader, Donatello to be the innocent minded tinker-er, and Mikey... he NEEDED Mikey to remain sweet and full of warmth. If he reached out... no, he would keep this demon to himself. He would find a way to conquer it, send it back to where it came from. He wouldn't allow it to take over and slip into his family. It was his disgraceful creature to bare, like an unwanted, tainted embryo created in an unholy union of darkness over taking innocence.

Raphael put down the cup of water he was drinking, he found that if he drank an extreme amount of water then the sleep was warded off easier. Water, there was something very calming about it. To have it roll around in his tongue, to have it on his leathery skin, just the soothing sound of it. He loved the musky sweet sent as well, it reminded him of... of Michelangelo.

There was a knock on the door. He paused, he didn't hear any cars... then again he was trying hard not to nod off. Maybe it was one of the neighbors needing something. If he answered the door he could make up some excuse for his appearance. Pushing himself away from the table, he got up from his seat. Making it to the door was a bit of a chore, his body ached from the home repairs he had been doing just to keep himself busy. He had learned much about house hold wiring over the past two weeks and few days, as well as how to replace floor boards and counters. Plumbing was easy enough and was kind of fun, he got the whole top floor nearly completely new, he was tempted to peal the wallpaper off and put on a new coat of paint, but that wasn't his job, and he'd have to ask Casey for permission before doing something that drastic in appearance. There was another knock beckoning him to the front of the house. He growled, "I'm comin' keep your shirt on."

Opening the door he was greeted with the bright grin of his little brother, "I would keep my shirt on, if I had one."

"Mikey, what are you-"

"Leo and Don are here too," he threw his thumb back over his shoulder to the van that had been pulled up, his other two brothers getting out some sacks of groceries and bags with pillows.

"But... why?"

"Why not? We were just worried you know," Mikey pushed his way in, his shoulder pressing into Raphael's chest softly, linger while he past his brother. "We're just gonna spend the night and see how you're doin' no biggy."

Raphael, reached out, his hand wrapping around a sea-green wrist. His brother turned just a little, looking at him for a moment while silence was the only language spoken. His grip loosened when he realized he had no idea what to say. Michelangelo's hand began to slip from his grip but stopped in favor for lacing their fingers together. The younger gave a small squeeze, a soft smile painted on his face before he said something in regards to the unspoken words from his brother, "You're welcome." Raphael smiled back, a rare one that was just as soft as his brother's. He flexed his fingers giving a gentle squeeze back before letting go of that warm hand and holding the door open for his other brothers. It was getting dark, and their trip was long, they would most likely want to eat some dinner then head to bed.

Their meal was like all their others, filled with chatter, jokes, and moments of silence. One of the conversations dealt with all of them sleeping in the same room since it was expected to get cold that night. Donatello had agreed to Michelangelo who had suggested it all, it would save Casey's family on heating cost and the last time they all slept in the same room was when they were recovering from a battle. It would a decent change of pace, but his eyes that caught Leonardo's told a different story. They wanted to keep an eye on their brother that needed a "vacation" they did not want to wake in separate rooms to screaming ever again. It was petrifying the first time, who knew what the second time would bring.

That night, sleeping in their makeshift beds, the sounds of soft slumber filled Raphael's ears. He rolled onto his side, eyes drifting shut from time to time. Across from him he could see Donatello snuggle up to Leonardo, their leader's arm wrapping around the brown-green brother that desired more comfort and warmth in his sleep. Raphael silently wondered to himself when they were going to say something to the rest of them. He was certain that they were just confused as to what they were getting themselves into. He had seen them kiss once, something sweet and tender, he had caught them cuddling on the couch late at night twice, he wasn't slow, he knew what that meant. He just wished they would come out and say something and stop hiding it, it would make everyone a lot more comfortable, or at least that's what he believed. A heavy sigh left his lips when he rolled over onto his other side, shifting so he was mostly on his back. Michelangelo was on his other side, sleeping face so relaxed and carefree. He reached out his hand, delicately running a finger along his little brother's forehead, down the side of the face and resting on the side of his beak. The younger gave a small giggle in his sleep that caused a small smile on Raphael's face. Taking his hand back he watched his brother a bit longer before his eyes shut for a second only to be pried open by the creak of a board.

A hand shot out, covering his mouth, five fingers gripping hard. The dull light from the room across the hall bathed the silhouette in shadows, giving just enough light to see the structure of the head and shoulders. Before he went to move a sharp pain was in his neck, a burn quickly spreading through his veins into his arms traveling through his fingers and back up. He tried to flinch his fingers, twitch his toes, anything! His voice was muffled as he tried to yell, scream, to get his brothers awake and away from this psycho that was catching the light on his straight teeth.

"Now, now," that deep, familiar voice whispered as a syringe was moved into sight. "We wouldn't want your brothers to wake, now would we."

His mocking tone was level and flat. The empty syringe was set down onto the floor next to Raphael's pillow, in front of a black bag that had its gaping mouth open. The man dressed in black tapped his finger against Raphael's beak for a moment before he removed it. A malicious grin on his face when Raphael tried to yell out, shout and growl, only to find it impossible. "Proper paralysis serums affect even the vocal cords," he smiled while digging to the bag he was next to. His explanation continuing, "But then again, I would have preferred to hear your reactions. It would have been more suitable data." The sounds of latex snapping should have been enough to wake up Leonardo, or Donatello. Dark eyes peered through the corners, head refusing to move. They were both fast asleep, not even a twitch. "But to be honest, I'm tired of chasing you mutants around for proper results," the man's face turned against the light as if he was in thought, a hand still in his bag. Bishop, it was that nasty, evil, son of a rotten turnip that had tried to hack up Mikey. "So I decided I would collect the results myself," a hand pulled out a scalpel, the thin blade glistening on the dim light. "Imagine the results of your dissection, imagine the behavioral data of your brothers when they wake up to find your corpse, it will be most beneficial indeed."

He wanted to say, "Screw you." He wanted to tell him to go throw himself into the pits of hell, he wanted to say anything that would get his brothers to at least twitch, but they were fast asleep! They didn't see the thin metallic tooth coming towards him. They couldn't feel the cold blade pressing into his throat, and they couldn't hear the scream when red droplets fanned against a blue wall.

To Be Continued...