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: A couple Raph moments. A brief thing with Shredder to hint at things to come. And lastly, a Leo moment that I'm particularly happy with.

Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.

...


CH 28


Raphael was relieved from his temporary duties as a nanny, but the name 'Raffle' still clung to him, specifically when he was able to get back to training. At the bench, lifting weights, straining his muscles and feeling them stretch and pull as he exerted himself with every rep- it was pure ecstasy for the restless turtle. He breathed in when he drew the bar close, and he gave a controlled exhale when he lifted. He did his reps in sets of ten, paused a few seconds and went again.

He'd been at this for a while; he'd be sore later, but it was worth it.

That dull ache of ripped and repairing muscle, he lived for it. The feeling of pushing himself towards self-improvement. He needed it. The productivity.

His prior injuries- however minor- had pulled him away from the weight room at Shredder's orders, and he considered the lack of activity to be its own form of hell.

But now that he was cleared...

'Breathe in, and out... Six... Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten... And break.' He set the bar back in its perch and sat up, breathing deeply, a sheen of sweat coating his body. He grabbed a nearby towel and wiped his face off before realizing that he had a bit of an... audience.

A familiar child stood a few feet away from him, fingers taped and large smile in place. "Raffle!"

Raph chuckled lightly, and tossed the towel away. "Shouldn't ya be with the other kids?"

The little boy rolled his eyes but held his smile. "They're all with the tutor. I had trouble reading the bigger words, and I got bored. So, I came to find you. You don't gotta learn any school stuff."

Raph looked the kid directly in the eye before deadpanning: "Kid, I did my school stuff. Read from books, took tests, the works. If ya don't learn, ya can't be a ninja." He extended a thick green finger and poked the kid in the chest. "Bein' a ninja starts here..." Then he moved the same hand up to pat the boy on the head. "But it takes a lot of this too." Pulling his hand away, he took on a thoughtful look. "It's all about balance. Learnin' right and wrong, and knowin' the most effective way ta succeed. More than anythin', it's about protectin' those ya care for." He paused to let his words sink in before moving his hands to lightly grip the child's arms, pretending to feel up the nonexistent muscles. "And a little muscle never hurt..." He flashed a wide grin. "You been workin' out, kid? At this rate, you'll be able ta kick my sorry shell in no time." His tone was surprisingly light, teasing, but he fixed his expression into something more serious. "But, really, ya gotta be smart. More than strong, ya have ta be fast, quick-thinkin', and brave."

As Raphael spoke of the traits, his mind procured corresponding colors and names.

Fast. Orange. Michelangelo.
Quick-thinkin'. Purple. Donatello.
Brave. Blue. Leonardo.

A wave of nausea swept through him as his kin came to mind. He'd been doing so well, ignoring them. But lately... Ever since he'd dreampt of the paper dome cracking, ever since he began to imagine that voice calling to him, thoughts of the other turtles had become more frequent and less spiteful. His heart beat slow and steady like a drum, and his head pulsed as if he was desperately fighting to retrieve a lost memory.

In his mind, he'd given up on them. In his mind, he fought to ignore their existence. Out of sight, out of mind. He could no longer imagine himself at their side, fighting for what was right, not when he'd sold his honor for a cheap compliment. For feigned acceptance.

The reality of it all hurt, but he couldn't undo his actions. He wouldn't regret his decisions. Instead, he would strive to do better. To maintain some semblance of who he was at his core.

More than muscle. More than nerve. Not quite the heart or brain or leader. He was a rebel. He was a martyr. So... where was that part of him? The part of him that refused to conform? The part that defied everything? The part of him that fought against all odds and either came out on top or went down swinging?

He closed his eyes tightly, mind reeling.

And, all of a sudden, all at once, the world fell away and the ache subsided. In his mind, he saw colors. Vibrant. In his mind, the sky was painted with an eternal sunset, and snakes of blue and purple swam. In his mind, through a crack in the shell of paper, he saw more and more of that sky coming into view as the paper seemed to peel away just a bit more.

And in his mind, through that hole, he saw- or did he imagine?- a forest green hand with three fingers, reaching towards him.

The name to go with that skin color was on the tip of his tongue, and he found himself reaching towards that hand. His breath hitched. He was so close to making contact. Against all logic, he knew that if he could just touch that hand, he'd be saved; he'd be liberated.

So close.

Only inches of nothingness separated Raphael's hand from the other one. He longed to reach it, to touch it, to grab it.

He wondered if that hand... if the one attached to the hand would be strong enough to pull him out.

The other side of the paper dome called to him.

Freedom was so close.

'Leo...'

With a startled gasp that morphed into an awkward cough, Raphael found himself aware of the conscious world once more. He sat at the bench, gulping in heaps of air in a vain attempt to calm his fraying nerves.

Upon seeing the worried look on the face of the child before him, Raphael forced himself calm. He offered a tight-lipped smile and fought through the sea of thoughts to recall what he and the child had been talking about.

As if noticing the plight of forgetfulness, the little boy offered a small smile in return before saying. "So, if I study, and I try really hard, can I be a ninja... like you? Huh, Raffle?"

Steadying his breathing and shaking away stray fragments of apprehension, Raph shrugged and found his voice. "It... It takes a lot of work, but I don't see why ya couldn't."

In the blink of an eye, the kid was sitting in the turtle's lap with his little arms wrapped tightly around Raphael's neck. "Just wait, Raffle. One day, I'll be a hero, just like you."

Raph tensed at the physical contact- he'd never been a big fan of hugs- but he didn't have the heart to reject the child's affection. With only slight hesitation, he returned the gesture, slipping his own arms around the boy and holding him close; he rested his chin atop the boy's dark hair. With a deep breath expelled through a sigh, Raph confessed: "I'm more of an antihero, kid. I do my own thing, regardless of morals... but I always try ta do good. Don't always succeed, but I always try, at least."

The kid pulled away, his expression just as bright as it had been a moment ago. "You're a hero because you do things ya don't have to do, Raffle. You're a hero 'cause you care. And you try really hard at everything." He reached up and placed his small hands at Raph's temples, cradling his large green head. "You might not think you're a hero in here, but..." he moved his hands down to Raph's plastron, where his heart lay beneath. "You're a hero in here."

Raph was speechless for a moment. He pulled the kid in for a hug- for himself or the boy, he couldn't be sure- before putting him down. "Uh, well, ninja-wannabe, why don't ya go study? Get really smart. Okay, ya knucklehead? And I'll see ya in a bit."

The boy nodded so fast, he could have given himself whiplash. "Alright. I'll get smarter. You get stronger. And when I get big, I'll get stronger too. And maybe one day, I can protect you too! I mean, I'll be your hero. Because, even heroes need a hero, right?" With a punctuating giggle, the little boy ran off, his feet clapping against the floor with every step.

Raph watched him leave, fighting back a conflicting smile. He couldn't help it; the kid was so naive, so pure, so earnest... And, even though the kid was well out of earshot, he found himself mumbling "Have fun learnin,' Timothy. Yer a good kid." With that he turned to see another familiar face.

Nearby, a rookie Foot was working to strengthen his newly un-casted leg; his face was screwed up in a look of deep concentration.

Curious, Raph got up and moved over to the teen. "How's the leg?"

"Like spaghetti," Gunner grunted, doing a set of leg presses. "Add another weight, will you?"

With a shrug, Raph moved to the set of weights, pulled the pin, added a 5 lbs plate, and set the pin again. Looking over the rookie's legs, one was noticeably more firm and muscular than the other. Raph reached over and gripped the thinner calf. "Needs work, but yer gettin' there," he commented idly, letting go afterwards.

Gunner rolled his eyes, uncharacteristic frustration showing in the way he contorted his face and drew breath through clenched teeth. "Yeah, says the mutant," he breathed, starting a new set of presses with the added weight.

Raph's browline creased. "What's that supposed ta mean?"

The young Foot didn't answer right away. Instead, he closed his eyes tight and focused on the exercise. One leg was working at full capacity, but he was heavily favoring the other one.

Still, Raph wasn't buying the 'deep-in-concentration' act. "Talk ta me, or so help me, I'll pile-drive ya. You don't get to start shit and not finish it."

Halting his presses, Gunner heaved a sigh. "Add a bit more weight, and I'll tell you."

Raph looked at the weights and pulled the pin again. He considered adding another 5 lbs but thought better of it. Instead, he dropped on another 20 before fixing the pin. Then he stood back, his stance wide, and folded his arms over his plastron, looking at the rookie Foot expectantly.

Gunner struggled with the added weight, the muscles in his thinner leg quivering visibly beneath the flesh. The progression was slow, but he managed to push the weights. After the first couple presses, it became easier. In his head, he counted out the sets.

Raph watched the first two or three sets in silence before speaking. "I think ya were tellin' me somethin'."

Gunner was reluctant, but under the gaze of those burning amber orbs, he conceded. "I guess I'm a little jealous," he said simply.

Raph was unamused, eyes darkening a shade.

"What I mean," the human continued, "is... I guess I've been in the Foot a lot longer than you have, but I'm not climbing any ranks. I'm stuck here. Not lame enough to be stuck in the Barracks, and not good enough to be an Elite. I've considered redirecting my training and working towards becoming a Foot Tech or a Medic, but... the Techs rarely see any action and being Medic blows. I've been stuck here, and... Well, then you come along, and you're instantly the favorite. Master Shredder likes you; he puts up with your antics, and I've seen others killed simply for looking at him the wrong way. It's hard not to be jealous."

Raphael frowned. "This is really eatin' at ya, ain't it?"

Gunner shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy here. I get to go to school. I get to have a life outside of here. And, this is my home, Raphael. The other ninja, they're my brothers. My family. I just...- You just...- Shredder thinks...-" Gunner clenched his teeth as the weights slid towards him; his weak leg was giving under the pressure.

Raph reached over and pulled the pin to unload the hefty plates before grabbing the human teen's hand and helping him up. After a moment of thinking, he spoke. "I get it. Yer not... gettin' the recognition... or the respect ya want from yer master. From your sensei." His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Been there, rookie. Not a fun place ta be."

"How'd you fix it?"

Raphael hesitated. Then... "I didn't." Silence filled the weight room. The amount of time that passed was immeasurable, but Raph eventually spoke again. "Ya need ta do some leg extensions and curls. C'mon. That leg ain't gonna work itself."

The rest of the weight lifting session was uneventful with almost no more conversation passing between the two. Breathing, the movement of weights, and the occasional grunt were the only sounds that filled the room.

When they were decidedly done, they joined a larger faction of the Foot to run through a few simple obstacles to test their speed and agility. At the end of the course, weapons were acquired on a first-come first-serve basis and a sparring session ensued.

The way it worked, at the end of the course was a rack of various weapons. Upon arrival, the runner of the course would take one and move aside to wait for the next runner to do the same. After that, the two pair up.

As Raphael moved through the course with ease, he slowed down and waited for Gunner to catch up, deciding that if they paired up and sparred he could take the opportunity to help the young Foot ninja work out his obvious resentment.

They finished the course only seconds apart with the turtle in the lead.

Raph grabbed the first weapon he could get his hands on- at this point, the more favored traditional bladed weapons had all been nabbed by other ninja, and Raphael found himself taking a bo staff. The moment his fingers wrapped around it, a painful throb pulsed through his head and caused him to visibly wince.

'Donnie...'

He instinctively released the bo and grabbed the next thing he could get his hands on. A set of Tekko Kagi- a sharp row of blades that slipped over the hand and was held in the palm by a horizontal bar... Essentially, it was a set of hand-claws that could be used to slash or stab...

The moment Raphael touched the sharpened weapon and realized he was caught between the limited choices of the claws and the bo, a bite of panic tore though him. The simple choice of which weapon to spar with felt like it held so much more meaning.

A weapon as sharp and foreboding as the claws that resembled something the Shredder might use, versus the simple defensive staff that his calm pacifist brother wielded.

At the last second, he decided to toss the claws aside and make due with the bo. It would be better that way, he knew. But just before he could ditch the Tekko Kagi and stake a claim to the other weapon, Gunner had already snatched it up and gave it a twirl before slipping into a fighting stance.

For a moment, Raphael stood there, a cold numbness beginning to swell within, but he choked it down. The weapons in his hands felt oddly heavy and wrong. Still, he affirmed his grip and widened his own stance.

'Just a spar... It doesn't have ta mean anythin'.'

In the blink of an eye, the young Foot moved in, not necessarily acting offensive- rather, working to provoke his foe into striking.

"Let's not take all day. C'mon, Raphael. -Or, should I call you: Shredder Jr?" Gunner sniggered at his own joke and swung the bo, intending to trip the turtle.

But something wild flashed behind Raph's amber orbs. Those words, the implications, along with the weapons in his hands... A quick back flip, and Raph was out of harm's way; he harshly threw the Tekko Kagi to the ground and fought the sudden urge to tackle the rookie Foot. With substantial effort, he turned away, eyes darting left and right, left again, frantic with the need to outrun his problems.

Half a breath later, and he made a less than ceremonious exit.

He made a beeline for the infirmary and slammed the door shut behind him. He looked around at the white walls and felt entirely unsettled. Still, he moved over and flicked on the UVB lamp. Then he seated himself on the bed with his carapace facing the light; the warmth soothed him, but it was hardly enough. He placed his head in his hands and tried to make sense of things.

"Just want it all ta stop," he groaned loudly, steadily increasing the pressure of his hands on his head until it hurt. Only then did he gradually ease up. "I can't keep doin' this yo-yo bullshit. Things can't go from good to bad, to good again. I need... something. Something ta take my mind off it all."

His mind conjured up a large smile and obnoxious laughter, sincere blue eyes beneath an orange mask.

'Mikey...'

Biting his lip, Raphael rocked back and forth in an attempt to soothe himself.

'I always thought it'd be better this way. Me, on my own. Without you guys. Always thought you'd be better off if I wasn't puttin' ya in danger. Thought I'd be strong enough ta handle it... but what if I'm wrong?'

Suddenly, it was as if a dam had burst. He felt it again. That swell of emotions. The pain, anger, regret, guilt. Frustration and hurt.

Anger at himself, at the world. At his former rat-sensei and his current human-master. Hatred for the world and the life he led.

With a deep inhale, he growled; the sound was a low and deep rumble.

Looking around at all the white, he felt closed-in. He felt trapped. He recalled the restriction of that paper dome, and mild panic set it. He needed to run. He needed air. He needed opens spaces. Rooftops. Running. The clang of metal rungs of a fire escape beneath his feet.

Realization hit him like winter air.

Central wasn't home. And it never would be. He was playing a foolish game of pretend, and one day... that game would have to come to an end.

With a cry of frustration, he turned and landed a kick to the nearest thing he could- the UVB lamp. He knocked it from its perch and it collided harshly with the tiled floor. While the bulb never made direct impact and didn't shatter, it did blink a few times before dying out.

Raph felt a shiver from deep within, and he doubted it had anything to do with the lack of light.

All he really knew was that he had to do something. Anything. Before his emotions swallowed him whole. Before his destructive nature became too much for him to handle.

...


[Shredder]

Oroku Saki's face contorted with one of his rare displays of earnest anger; the expression, however, was lost beneath the guise of metal.

"The Golden Shuriken means nothing if I can't access its power," he seethed and began pacing. His arms were tossed out in a grand gesture. "I don't understand; it had been actively glowing when Raphael wore the pendant. Somehow, he was able to tap into it..."

"Master Shredder," a high-ranking Foot called to him. "Master Shredder, it appears that the amulet has linked itself and its magicks to the turtle's spirit. If that connection cannot be severed, the relic will be useless."

"And how do we break that connection?" Shredder sneered at his underling, wanting answers; he was in no mood to tolerate impudence.

Thankfully, the answer came without delay.

"Simple, Master Shredder. It's linked to his spirit. We break his spirit, we break the connection. Once the connection is broken, the amulet is yours."

Shredder took in the words and began running scenarios through his head. "In that case, I will strike at his weak points. Raphael is strong and stubborn; physical damage would not be of any use. I shall aim for the parts of him he cannot control: his emotions and his intellect."

...


[At the Lair]

Leonardo knelt before his sensei and looked up to him with hope-filled eyes. "I'm so close, Master Splinter. So close..."

The rat closed his eyes and said nothing. He knew his eldest son had been trying to reach his missing sibling, but hope was hard to hold onto. Even for himself. Splinter had tried and failed time and again to even locate his missing son's spirit. For every attempt, he was met with fog and darkness and walls; at one point, he'd found himself in a labyrinth of metal- the walls of which were covered in razors and spikes. His own trips to the Astral Plane had been filled with screams of frustration and tears of desperation.

Fear. Claustrophobia. Sheer panic. Loneliness.

He couldn't find his son... but the feelings- as negative as they were- were overwhelming, and they were not his own. Splinter had wondered, if perhaps those feelings could belong to Raphael. It would make sense, but he could not imagine his strong son feeling so weak. If this was the case, the cause was unforgivable.

With a contemplative sigh, Splinter opened his eyes to regard the blue-banded ninja. "Leonardo, my son," his voice was strained as he spoke. "Perhaps, it is time to take a rest in our search through meditative means. Some time away from it will refresh our spirits and realign our perception. And, it would be best... to focus on Donatello and Michelangelo before they go further astray."

Leo's shoulders tensed and he looked to his paternal figure with a strange mix of surprise and disdain. "Sensei, I trust your judgement, but you can't be serious. I don't think you understand how close I am. I saw him. I'm almost there. I can bring Raphael back. I can-"

"And, if you do bring back his spirit, who will bring him back physically? Who will remind your brothers who they are and where they belong? They have fallen out of line. You, Leonardo, are the eldest brother; you are the leader. You are responsible for-"

"I am responsible for Raphael too, sensei." Leo paused, realizing that, for perhaps the first time in his life, he was directly defying his sensei's wishes. And he wasn't the least bit sorry for it. After a moment of thought, he added: "I trust Don and Mike to do what is right. I trust Raph to be safe until I can help him. And I trust you to push me forward instead of holding me back. This isn't about the clan or the team; it's about family."

Splinter's ears flatted against his head and his tail lashed out. "If you are insinuating that I do not care about this family-"

"You gave up on Karai, Master Splinter. Don't give up on Raph too. He's not perfect, but he deserves better than that."

"Leonardo-"

"And, sensei, I'm not perfect either. No one is. You trained us to be ninja, and we've thrived, but in doing so, I've forgotten how to be a brother. But I'm learning. And I'm going to fix everything. It- It's not just Don's job to fix things. It's not Mike's job to make everyone happy. And it shouldn't have been Raph's job to be the martyr."

Splinter pulled his tail close, wringing it between his small clawed hands as he took in his son's wise words. His heart was both heavy with shame and light with pride; his son was growing up wise and strong. His son, despite his young age and inexperience, was evolving. No longer the little tot who wobbled on shaky legs and desperately sought for attention, his son was leaping into a pool of maturity and adulthood.

How could the rat not be proud, despite his inner pain?

But, another thought struck the rodent, and he voiced it. "Leonardo, my son, you seem so adamant in sharing duties between one another, but what of you and your own duties as leader? There is no one to take the burden from your shoulders."

Getting to his feet, Leo looked at his sensei and gave the most strained smile he'd ever had in his life. "That's up to you, sensei. But, with or without help, I will stand alongside my brothers. I will lead them to battle, and then I will lead them home. Through life, I will guide them to the best of my abilities. I will lift them up when they are down, and if my shoulders become permanently marked with their footprints, so be it; I will bear those markings with pride. But before I am a leader, I will strive to be a brother. The question is, before it's too late, will you remember how to be a father? You seem to have forgotten..."

Silence loomed after that.

Leo contemplated making an exit, but he held off. He offered an unreadable look to his sensei before speaking again. He had a lot on his mind and in his chest, and it felt good to share his thoughts so openly. "When we were younger, sensei, you personally taught me calligraphy. You gave Don a typewriter that he fixed and taught himself to use. You gave Mike his first set of paints, and he was always putting his art on display for us. And Raph got a pen and a notebook that he kept to himself and guarded with his life; did you ever think to ask what he wanted it for?"

No answer.

Leo took a deep breath, needing to gather courage to say what was on his mind and in his heart. "Raph wanted it to write the things he couldn't talk about. The things he couldn't say to us, or to you. Now, I have things to do, and I want you to stay in here, meditate, and think about what this means, as well as your involvement. After that, I want you to write a formal apology to Raph- and if you feel so inclined, then write one to the rest of us as well. Until then, consider yourself grounded, sensei." With that, Leo stood tall, squared his shoulders, and walked out, leaving behind an emotionally confused rat.

...


[Another chapter down. More on the way!]