Chapter 3: Phantoms

Leonardo's gaze could have burned a hole in the wall if the mutation had affected another gene or two. Instead it burnt a hole in Splinter's heart. Splinter had watched his student sit in his chair for several minutes before he broke his stealth and Leonardo's concentration.

Leonardo's head jerked, "I didn't see you there!"

"Perhaps you were listening to something else."

Leonardo nodded slightly.

Splinter gave Leonardo a knowing smile. "It is not your fault."

"That much I know," replied Leonardo. Splinter heard the snap to the words that Leonardo was fighting to keep away.

"It is not Raphael's fault either."

Leonardo looked up at his master. He looked as if he might challenge the idea, but after a brief pause, nodded gently, "I know."

Splinter stood silently for a minute more. When Leonardo's gaze fell back to a few metres behind the wall he silently departed to check on his other students.

It did not surprise him to find Michaelangelo and Donatello both together, mindlessly talking about anything other than Raphael. He could almost feel the desperation to avoid the topic hanging in the room like a thick fog. He sighed. It seemed hard to believe this is what his makeshift family had been reduced to.

He remembered a time before this, yet it seemed so distant. The transition had been so gradual its presence was only apparent by the stark contrast of months. How long had it all been going through Raphael's head: maybe years?

It was not Raphael's fault, nor was it Leonardo's or Michaelangelo's or Donatello's. Sensibly, he knew it was not his fault either, yet in the same way a parent always agonises over what more could have been done, Splinter felt somewhere it must have resulted from his own action or inaction. After all, Donatello was not out following drunkards through dark alleyways. Logic reminded him that neither was Michaelangelo a scientist nor Donatello a leader. Each member of the family had his own weaknesses and by the same token - strengths.

Logic is a very cold comfort, he mused.

---

Raphael mashed his hand against the intercom and muttered. He was buzzed in seconds later. His unsteady steps fell sloppily on the creaky stairs and several cracks beneath his weight resonated through the building. He continued regardless, barely aware of any noise other than the increasing amount of blood rushing through his ears; his breathing seemed likely to deafen him at any point. The only other sensation which permeated his consciousness was the dampness that hung in the air - the unmistakable smell was something he recognised from the alleyway.

When his feet hit the third floor corridor he shut one eye allowing him to focus on the numbers more easily. He stalked down to the end of the corridor and read the number '9'. His hand rested on the doorknob until it suddenly occurred to him that it might be more appropriate to knock. Of course, this would confront the fears and dreams that lay behind the door much more quickly and leave Brent the opportunity to flat out desert him before even knowing him.

Raphael leaned a little more heavily on the doorknob, indecision now pounding with the blood rushing through his head.

It felt like hours; it was probably seconds.

A door slammed down the corridor, footsteps were heard. "Brent, yo, 'zat you?"

Raphael paused for more than his master would have liked before glancing at the three walls that surrounded him and the darkness containing the mystery voice.

Neurons fired. Raphael ran along the far side of the corridor, flashing past the intrusion of his thoughts. With trained precision, his forearm knocked the intrusion's head into the wall. He did not stick around long enough to hear the groan. He stumbled and tripped down the stairs, all grace and clarity that had immersed him in his attack long departed. He pushed his way out the door, paying no heed to hinges that cracked in their soft bed as he did so. Skidding on the cracked concrete, he tore around the corner into his alleyway.

He collapsed behind a pile of sacks, not caring about the squelching that he heard and felt as he did so. He twisted to his right and emptied his stomach. Then he leaned to his left, resting his head on the sacks. Not caring about the idiocy of such a plan, he opened his eyes only a few times more to relieve the dizziness before being dragged under by the drink and receding levels of adrenaline.

It was still dark when Raphael first stirred. Shadows cast by the few windows still illuminated above disorientated him for a moment. Then he remembered it all - the fight with his family, his rash decision of rushing into Brent's uncertain arms and the intruder who had probably ultimately saved him his existence.

The question of what would have happened still lingered.

Raphael stood up, noting that he was still quite unsteady on his feet. Only the blood seeping in from the cracked skin wet his mouth. Dehydrated, yet damp from the night dew and still feeling very unstable in every sense of the word, Raphael retreated to his lair.

The stillness of his home was disturbing. He wasn't used to the quiet in this place; it was usually disturbed by his brothers or his own distractions. As he tip toed down to his bed he heard a sharp whisper, "Raphael?"

It was Leonardo.

He froze and wondered if he could continue on as if he hadn't heard, or better yet, as if it were one of his brothers. The question was quickly followed by the rustling of blankets and creaking of a bed and Raphael resigned himself to being found out.

"Hey Leo. What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I wanted to apologise. You know I've just been a little worried about everyone lately, given circumstances. I didn't mean to judge you or anything. I'll admit that I just don't understand what this thing with Brent is and it scares me a little. I'm worried about you, that's all, OK?"

"Yeah, whatever, dude. Just remember this next time I accidentally throw you into a wall."

Leonardo smiled. "Next time you try, anyway."

Raphael forced a grin. "By the way, how did you know it was me?"

"I didn't. I've been lying awake all night though. Earlier I apprehended Donny on his way to get a drink - think I scared him into next week."

At that, Raphael let out a genuine burst of laughter, but quickly remembered and collected himself. "Thanks Leo. I'll see you tomorrow huh, I'm fair beat."

"Sure thing, Raph. G'night."

"Night." Raphael slept, not even entertaining the delusion that Leonardo had finished that particular conversation.

---

"Miles! Miles! Wake the fuck up!" Brent crouched in the hallway next to his prostrate friend.

Miles groaned and rolled onto his back. "Brent, yo, what the fuck was that?"

"Dunno, bro, wasn't here. I just got back from town."

"Yeah, I can smell."

"Shut the fuck up, it's not like you're a bowl of roses."

"Whatever, man, just help me up."

Brent offered a hand to Miles. With a grunt Miles pulled himself up, leaning a little too heavily on Brent. The pair thudded back into the wall before letting go and steadying themselves. Seconds later they both realised how funny the whole thing was and cackled far too loudly for the hour of night.

Brent held up his hand, counting down, 5…4…3…2…1…

Miles, still chuckling, raised his eyebrows. "You're losing your touch."

He barely finished his sentence when an older woman stuck her head out of the opposite door. "Would you two boys mind keeping it down. It's past three in the morning."

"Sure thing, sorry Miss Andrews." Brent offered a saccharine smile.

"And Miles dear, I thought I told you to get a haircut."

"I'll shut up, how's that?"

"I guess it'll have to do." With that she shut the door again and lay in bed resigned to listening to the two carry on their night from behind an extra wall.

"You wanna come in for a beer?" Brent asked Miles who was still looking a little dazed.

Miles nodded vaguely then frowned. "Seriously, what was that?"

"What?"

"I'm not that out of it - I wasn't coma-ed. Someone attacked me. I thought it was you."

Brent held his hands up in mock surrender, "Not me, bro, I was at the Caf, most of the night. Come in, have a drink and we can figure it out."

Brent opened the door for Miles and followed him in. As he did so, he couldn't help but defend himself. "She was like three seconds away, you know. Probably standing at the door, just wanting to prove me wrong."

"Yeah, because I'm sure her whole life revolves around proving you wrong."

'You are probably not far wrong,' Brent thought to himself a little sadly. He opened the fridge and took two beers out. Handing one to Miles he changed the topic. "So, what do you remember?"

"I heard someone coming up the stairs, I thought it was you. When I came to greet you gigantor was standing at your door about to go in. He ran and messed me up on the way out. Then you started screaming in my ear."

"Hmm…I'd better start locking my door," Brent replied thoughtfully.

"Whatever bro, this guy looked mean. He even had a mad hunchback or something."

"Drink your beer."

Miles looked down at his untouched bottle. Chugging several mouthfuls back dulled his unvoiced concerns. He had almost said the words. Those words that he himself would easily mock if heard from any mouth other than his own - 'It did not look human.'

Brent noticed the apprehensive look on his friend's face. "Seriously, don't worry about it. It's not like he's gonna come back. You've either had too many or not enough of these," he said, waving his empty beer bottle in the air. As he got up to get another he remembered the large hunched shadow he had once seen moving around in the alleyway outside his window.

"We've been hanging out together far too long, you know," he called over his shoulder. "We're having shared hallucinations."

"Whadya mean?"

"Gigantor hunchback - I think I've seen him."

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