A/N: Written for Darthempress over on Tumblr who wanted a story about Raph with his teddy bear. Naturally, I had to write this in 2k14 version. Just the image of big strong 'Bara' Raph with a tattered, lumpy little bear to comfort him . . . I couldn't resist. Enjoy this little drabble. Rated T for Raph's potty mouth.

Confidant

It had been a bad one. Sure enough, it was just as Leo had lectured about Friday nights in the city when there was a full moon. Leo was right. He wasn't surprised. Splinter Junior may be a pain in the ass, but he knew strategy, he knew when to charge in for a victory and when to slip back into the shadows to await success another night. Still, it didn't stop Raph from hating him for it. Just a little.

With a grimace, Raph rubbed his aching side when the punk had stabbed him multiple times. Stupid, he thought. Yeah, going up against a group of Purple Dragons in the midst of a drug exchange with the Bronx gang, The Pride, thirteen assholes in all, maybe wasn't the smartest idea he's had. Maybe ignoring Leo's bitching about staying in tonight wasn't either. He sighed. What did he expect? Hot July night, full moon, lucky thirteen. He snorted. Maybe he just needed to get his ass kicked to remind himself of where he belonged. And what he was. After getting a glimpse of that chick, with her dark locks and sapphire eyes … he'd gotten it into his head … that maybe … if only …

"Grah!" he growled and flopped into his hammock, banishing the thought before it took root again. Poisoning him. Hurting him worse than the stab wounds.

He shoved his thick fist underneath himself and rummaged around until his finger felt the familiar, lumpy softness buried beneath the hard scutes of his shell. Ripples of pain lanced his injured side, but it was worth it. He dragged Mr. Cuddles out and wrapped one massive arm around it. The tattered teddy bear that Splinter had given him when he'd only been a tot. The only one who he could talk to about his troubles. One of the few comforts he had down here. If his brother's knew of the bear, he didn't give a shit. No one would dare mention the fact that he slept with a stuffie night after night. And the one time Mikey did, he regretted it for quite some time afterwards.

One leg kicked slowly to rock the hammock. He felt the heat of his wounds. Felt the sharp throb and knew that his patch-work job was going to lead to infection.

Stubbornly, he closed his green-gold eyes and murmured to Mr. Cuddles, "I got thirteen tonigh'. One guy knifed me, but … you shoulda' seen his face when I gutted him. You woulda' laughed. Don'll be pissed when he sees … four stabs. I think it was four …"

He grew quiet and listened to the sounds of the lair around him. Distantly pipes groaned with the traffic roaring above his head, even through miles of brick and dirt and pipelines, he could still hear it.

"Listen, there's this chick, this, uh, lady … she's … human," he paused and snuggled deeper into the hammock, clutching his teddy tightly, nuzzling into the matted fur that smelled of home and slightly of his father. His words grew slurred as sleep began to descend upon him. "She's, uh, really . .. pretty. But you know … she ain't never gonna see me as nothin' but the freak I am."

The hammock swung slowly and Raphael clung to his bear, ignoring his pain, both physical and not, drifting off to slumber beneath the city that never slept. And he dreamt of the one who could rescue him from the life he lead, one of blood and pain, of running from the truth; the one with dark hair and sapphire eyes.