Title: Validation
Summary: Never the perfect son or student or brother, Raphael does the unthinkable. Away from the lair and into an allegiance with Shredder, honor is replaced by his pronounced desire for validation.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership ties to the TMNT fandom or anything else I might reference. Credit to those who do.
SPECIAL THANKS TO! Bella13blue, my own personal Nemesis! (Because everybody needs one.) MY Nemesis has been a good friend; she's a great soundboard and has been kind enough to encourage and offer suggestions on my work for this fic.
Author's Notes: This chapter takes place days after Raphael had delivered the Golden Shuriken to the Shredder. After the stressful events in the previous chapter, I decided Raph could use a light-hearted moment, and you'll find it here. After that, Leo has a bit of a breakthrough!
Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.
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CH 27
It was funny, almost, the way the world kept turning, the days kept fading into nights, and really... everything kept changing all the time, and yet those constant changes were expected and stagnant. There was never any surprise when a little rain decided to pour, nor when the leaves fell from the trees. There was no surprise when people traded tears for laughter, or smiles for glares.
How things could change, but the change- expected or not- could be simply overlooked as something ordinary, it was special. Special, and unnoticed.
'An ordinary change. Somethin' different that is accepted, expected, almost necessary. A cycle that I don't belong in...'
Raphael focused on something along those lines as he held the 'American Government' notebook and scribbled a few lines of truth-turned-fiction in an attempt to vent his stray emotions.
It had been days since he'd obtained the relic and offered it to the Shredder. During that time, he'd been stripped of everything except his heated belt and tended by the medic. Shredder, armored and intimidating, had offered verbal praise and a familiar hand to the turtle's shoulder, but Raph found no satisfaction in it.
Since then, Raphael had been moody, more so than usual. His verbal lashings came with little prompt and he was prone to storming off to either his old room, the infirmary, or even the Barracks- which, after his case of comatose brumation, had been insulated and heated.
Shredder had what he wanted- that relic of mystic forgery- and Raphael's newfound sense of petulance and rebellion posed little threat; thus the tyrant of a human was able to look the other way in regards to ill-placed words and flight tendencies.
And Raph, of course, pushing his feelings inward in favor of coping with the stress of his actions, had taken up the pen once more. His writings were scattered and frequent. But unlike before, while he would write on the bulk of his thoughts, he didn't write anything of the dreams he had- well, the one dream he seemed to have.
It was that same dream, recurring, the one where he was trapped, encased in the white dome with his name scripted on the wall. But lately, in that dream, the dome had been redecorated, grafted with a spiderweb of cracks, as if it was trying to break. In his dream, Raph had tried to break through, but his efforts were fruitless. Still... if he was quiet, still, and if he concentrated, sometimes... he could hear a voice. Familiar, soothing, calling to him, saying things that drew flashes of memory closer to the surface...
The dream was confusing, but he didn't question it. And he refused to write it down. It felt important to him. And it was something he refused to share. At the risk of someone reading his notebook, he wouldn't write it. He wouldn't give them the chance to see that part of his mind.
In a way, that dream was becoming his own personal secret.
And... just this morning, right before he drew into full consciousness, the crack in that white paper prison grew just a bit more, to the point where he could see through to the other side... He couldn't make out any real features, but the sky... vibrant red, with swirls of blue and purple- living colors, swimming...
He woke up that morning, thinking that maybe sleep wasn't so bad after all. Those colors, that voice he could almost hear... it placated his inner demons and left him feeling lighter.
Even so, his waking hours left him with much to think about.
With his current injuries- not that they were debilitating- his training was virtually nonexistent, and he found himself with entirely too much free time. Free time meant thinking. Thinking brought his mind to a dark place. That dark place in his mind made him angry and bitter. That bitterness revealed itself in impromptu tongue-lashings, foul words, and soured expressions.
What set him off, it was questionable. But something about the aggressive behavior felt right. It felt natural. Easier than breathing. The only thing difficult with it, in Raphael's opinion, was directing his anger where it was truly warranted.
That was something he'd never been able to do. Something he had always struggled with. Something that had once caused him great strife. But now...
Once again, Raphael was writing...
I once knew the value of man. The degree of honor. And the ration of innocence and understandin'.
Since that night- the night of the Golden Shuriken- the worth of humans has declined. Honor has become something measured by mercy I can't show. And innocence, I guess it's aways been something that adults view in children and children discard as soon as possible.
Forget staining honor. My whole life is stained. Stained by my hands, my actions, and my faults. Stained by my anger.
But... even the worst failures have a silver lining.
All my life, I've been known by a single name- named after a famous Renaissance artist, but lately... the proud name Raphael has been reduced to: Raffle.
And so, a new nightmare begins. But... it's the kind of nightmare that I'm afraid ta wake up from. It's the kind of nightmare that just might be better than the alternative.
Maybe it ain't such a nightmare after all.
Raph sat on an old sofa in the newly furnished Barracks; he was there by choice rather than command. He tossed the pen and notebook aside as a familiar human approached.
Gunner made himself known well before he was visible, his cast clunking noisily with every step. He didn't need crutches in this stage of recovery; he was nearly ready to have the cast removed. In his hands, several boxes of pizza were stacked and wobbling dangerously. "I got the pizza, Raphael. But you have to pick the anime. Naruto or Dragonball Z?"
The turtle rolled his eyes. "You always wanna watch anime. Can't we watch a sitcom? Or a horror flick? Something with normal people?" Raphael's voice held a tone of tired exasperation. "I haven't seen the new Batman... What about-?"
Gunner grinned and dropped the pizza boxes onto an overturned crate that served as a makeshift table. "Nope! Think of the kids! They wanna watch violent cartoons. So, you can either choose an anime, or... we'll go old school and bust out the Looney Tunes and Animaniacs!"
Raph's cheek fell into his palm, his expression displaying his own plight of boredom. "Remind me again why there's a fuck-"
"Ah, shhh! Language! Watch your mouth," Gunner chided, snickering afterwards.
Raph rolled his eyes. "Why's there a fuh-friggin' daycare-thing goin' on here? And why am I the one dealin' with it? I mean, why send a turtle ta do a human's job? I ain't the nurturing type."
Gunner shrugged. "You, Raphael, are injured." The teen pointed an accusing finger at the turtle. "You might not be injured too severely, but Master Shredder wants to be certain you heal up good before sending you out for anything. And... in case you forgot, I'm also laid up, and I'm working Inventory. Since that boring job is covered... you get what's left. You get to be the nanny!"
"But why kids?!" Raph threw his arms out in frustration. He'd been more prone to outbursts over the last few days; he'd taken notice but hadn't bothered to make amends.
Still, Gunner flipped open a box of pizza and stole a slice before answering. "It's not a daycare center or anything. The kids are runaways. We can't turn them over to the authorities, just so they can be sent back to potentially abusive homes. And, it's better for them to come here than go out on the streets. Plus, they're potential recruits, once they're old enough."
Raph sighed but didn't comment further. Instead, he just tried to get comfortable on the lumpy sofa; his shell was proving itself to be a hindrance in the matter.
Speaking of kids... A single child ran over to Raphael. His clothes were ratty and covered in dirt, as was various patches of his otherwise pale skin. He held up his hands and flashed a bright smile; he was clearly proud of something. And he voiced his pride with an insistent cry of: "Look, Raffle! Lookie!"
The mutant held back a smile at the child's antics, but the corners of his mouth still twitched with the threat of emotion. "Wha'd ya do?" he asked the kid, seeing that both of the child's hands were coated thickly in silver duct tape.
The kid continued to display his hands. His pinky and ring finger had been taped together, as had his index and middle; the thumb stood alone. It was the same on both hands. "I've got three fingers, just like you, Raffle!"
Raphael shook his head and looked away. "Kid, ya don't want three fingers."
The kid pouted. "I do too! And I wanna be green. And I want one of those-" he climbed on the couch and sat next to the turtle before rapping his small fist against the mutant's carapace, as if knocking. "You are the coolest, most awesome big brother in the world."
Raphael had been mildly amused, but the child's last words made him frown; his chest tightened marginally. "Brother?" He couldn't help the strained sound of his usually gruff voice.
"Yeah. That's what you are to us, right, Raffle? You go out and keep us safe, and you spend time with us here when you can. You're the greatest, Raffle!" The kid leaned in close, his smile only growing wider.
Raph sighed and averted his gaze.
Gunner playfully punched Raphael's uninjured arm. "Let the kid have his fun, Raffle," he teased, grinning widely before accepting a smack to the back of the head, courtesy of an emerald-skinned mutant.
"Ya ain't got no speech impediment, so don't act like it. It's disrespectful ta those who do," Raph said simply, eyes narrow but no real malice present.
Gunner's grin fell into a smile, but that smile quirked into a smirk. "Well, if the kids spend enough time around you, they'll all have a speech impediment and excessively use double and triple negatives!" With that, the teen ducked another oncoming smack; he set his pizza aside and moved to his collection of DVD's and boxsets. "So, did you decide which anime-"
"Put in a movie. With normal people," Raph said.
The child jumped up excitedly, unwittingly clipping the mutant in the chin with a thin and bony shoulder. "We should watch FIGHT CLUB! Wanna see it again! Raffle watched it with me yestah-day."
Gunner turned and fixed a slack-jawed gawk towards the turtle. "'The kid is, like, six. He can't be watching that, Raphael."
Raph had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply in an attempt to stave off the irritation of the accidental assault. Still, he managed a shrug before responding. "He spends his days with fuckin' ninja, and ya think he can't tolerate a few fights, explosions, and a piss poor sex scene?"
The human teen huffed and reluctantly found the aforementioned DVD before putting it in; all the while, he grumbled unintelligibly. By the time he'd set it up, adjusted the volume, and hit Play, he turned back to see that, where Raphael sat, there was not one- but several kids piled around him, all being mindful of the bandaged arm and leg. Gunner bit his lip in amusement at the sight but said nothing as he reclaimed his pizza and took his seat among the group.
... by the end of the movie, most of the pizza had been eaten, all the kids were asleep, and Raphael himself was beginning to nod off.
Gunner ejected and put away the DVD before turning the volume low and switching the TV to cable so that when the kids woke up they'd have something colorful to occupy themselves.
It had been a peaceful few days at Central, with very little to do but bond with one another. Unfortunately, the peace wouldn't last long. It couldn't. Not based on what the cast-legged rookie Foot ninja had overheard. Something about a hockey-masked vigilante busting up a few associates Shredder had been working with...
...
[Leo]
Leonardo sat alone on the roof of April's apartment building. He should have been either home or aiding Don and Casey in the search for his missing brother, but he was wearing down; his hope was dwindling. Giving into a moment of weakness, he'd run off without even telling his sensei. He was just so tired of waiting, of hoping, of trying to find his brother.
He was starting to feel helpless, trapped, suffocated in the confines of the lair. He had to wonder: 'Is this it? Is this the feeling that had always lured Raph topside? The need to just... go anywhere. This restless anxiety...'
In his brother's absence, Leo had done his best to soothe his family, to keep his spirits high. He'd preached and droned on about keeping faith. About finding their rogue sibling and bringing him home. He'd spoken those words so much that they now came without thought. It was to the point where, Leo couldn't be sure if he was reciting the promise habitually or if he was genuinely trying to keep everyone hopeful. Some days, he didn't know what to believe.
For all he knew, Raphael didn't even want to come home.
The thought was despairing.
Still, even after running off, the blue-banded ninja found himself unable to completely shirk his duties. As a leader and a brother.
He was the eldest brother. He was the leader. He was responsible. And until he could bring Raphael home, neither his family nor his team would be whole.
On that roof, Leonardo found himself in the lotus position, drifting deeper into a meditative trance. He'd hoped the rebellious act of running out along with the reprieve offered by the crisp night air might somehow bring him closer to his brother in essence and spirit.
After the abundance of practice he'd had as of late, he almost effortlessly found himself in the Astral Realm, caught between the planes of Existence.
He felt that weightless sense of calm wash over him as he took in the fantastic atmosphere of color. For a moment, he allowed himself to be awed by the display before steeling himself on task.
Spying the large paper shell that he'd become all too familiar with, his spiritual self approached, but... something was different. Several cracks ran along the once-pristine paper-steel surface and, through those cracks, a brilliant golden light shone, giving off an incredible energy.
"Raph?" Leo cautioned the name as he drew closer. "Can you hear me? Raph!" He raced the rest of the way to the dome. He inspected the cracks with his eyes and hands. "Raph... You're still in there, right? Trapped... But the walls are cracked. There has to be a way to free your spirit... and bring you home." He tested the durability of the dome now that it was fractured, but it still seemed impossible to break. With a sigh, he slumped down and sat next to it. He placed a hand against the cool paper surface. "We miss you, Raph." He said, voice soft, soothing, almost whispering. "We need you. Whoever you are, and whoever you need to be, we'll accept you. Anything you've done, we'll forgive it. That's what family does. It-It's not even about the team anymore. It's about you, and it's about us... But it's mostly about you."
He couldn't be sure if his words would breech the paper barrier, cracked or not. But it eased his own tension, to speak to his brother. To say the words he'd been holding in for so long.
"Raph, you're needed back home. You're missed. No one can get along without you. I can't get along without you." His own confession brought into light, he closed his eyes tightly, as if pained; then he continued to speak. "We all pushed you away, didn't we? And I don't blame you for running. But... I do blame you for staying away. It's hurting us, Raph. And that's the last thing you'd ever want. I know you. You're my brother. And though you act tough, inside, you're raw. Like an open wound. And... maybe I didn't tend to you the right way. Maybe you got infected. And maybe that's why you won't come home. But... for what it's worth, I am sorry. And I'd do anything to make things right."
As Leo's words concluded, he heard a distinctive 'tearing' sound, as if someone had ripped a sheet of paper in half. He immediately looked to the source of the sound, only to see a larger tear among the cracks in the dome.
For the first time in a while, Leo felt an honest swell of hope.
"We'll bring you home, Raph. That's a promise. No matter how long it takes. No matter what we go through. No turtle gets left behind."
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[Another chapter. More to come!]
