Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Untouched Whispers

Silently, he made his way across the rooftops of New York, ignoring the chill of the crisp December air. Heavily clothed in winter garments, the shadowy figure continued to run through the night, unseen by the dwellers of the city on the streets and sidewalks below.

As he neared his destination, Raphael slowed his haste pace, now breathing hard. He had deliberately pushed himself, willing himself to get away and forget. But still, he had undoubtedly found himself at a place he once swore he'd never go.

Perched in the darkness on a ledge, Raph drew in slow breaths, suddenly fascinated by the wispy clouds of warm air that left him as he breathed out. The sight across the street terrified him, once more reminding him of his wounded heart, the grief he dare not share with his brothers.

Once more a wave of anger swept over him as the red clad turtle stood in a fury. He drew a hidden sai from his belt and sent it hurtling across the rooftop. Raph growled and hatefully hit the brick wall beside him until his callused knuckles became raw.

He began berating an unseen enemy. "I hate you. I hate you so much."

Raphael continued to assault the wall with punch after punch and kick after kick.

He harshly whispered, "How could you do this to me? How could you leave us…me...alone?"

Flecks of his blood stained the wall, a representation of the rage that had consumed him. The onslaught continued.

"It's not fair! It's just not fair!" Raph shouted with another hit to the wall; a crack began forming from the abuse it was receiving. The irate turtle relished the feeling of pain that radiated from his hands, grateful to feel anything.

His forehead leaned against the brick's rough surface, its cool texture contrasting to the burning of his aching head. A hot tear slid down from Raphael's red mask, wetting his grief-stricken face. Sobbing in defeat, his hands smoothed over the wall as he dropped to his knees. The breakdown had been imminent, after being held inside for nearly a month. It was the first true display of emotion, besides one of anger, that he had shown.

Raph turned from the wall, sitting with his shell against it. He glanced from the top of the building once more to the sight across the street from him. A few stray tears still slid down his green skin, as Raph tried to gather his thoughts.

He knew he should do what he had planned on doing, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Raphael hadn't been able to deal with it for the last month; he had simply watched his brothers react to their tragedy with uncaring, cold eyes, offering no comfort as the others tried to offer it to him.

'I should do it for him, if not for me,' mused Raph despondently. Gathering up his courage to face his objective, he slowly rose to his feet. With one cold hand, he clumsily tried to wipe away the tears that poured from his eyes against his will.

Raphael jumped to the ground in the alley below, staying hidden in the shadows as he had been taught. His eyes narrowed behind his bandana, scrutinizing the scene before him. There were few people around at this late hour; he could easily slip past them. He'd be in and out before anyone would notice he was there.

He made his way across the street, landing a flip onto a lamppost in front of the building. Wordlessly, he waited for a person on the sidewalk below him to pass by, and quickly made his way to a back entrance.

As Raph noiselessly slipped in unseen, he marveled at the sight before him. It really was beautiful, a true architectural achievement as Donatello had once told him it was. The St. Patrick's Cathedral was a NYC landmark, and he, himself, had never set foot in it before. Heck, he had never even been in a church before. The usually hotheaded turtle wasn't much of a churchgoer.

Sticking to the shadows of the dim church, Raph padded his way past pew after pew, recalling Donnie telling him it held over 2,000 people. He glanced at the magnificent stained-glass windows that told of the miracles of God and the works of Saints.

In a sudden state of awe, Raph stood completely still, dumbfounded in this place of sanctuary. His thoughts drifted to his brothers, suddenly feeling guilty for not being there for them, as they offered to support him.

Earlier that very evening, he had struck out a Michelangelo, telling him to grow up and stop acting so glum. Leo and Donnie had just about had it with their ill-tempered brother and defended him. In a fit of rage, Raph had grabbed his winter garments and left the lair, uncertain of where he had been headed.

Shaking himself out of his remorseful reverie, Raphael set out to finish the task at hand. He approached one of the many altars on the side of the church, puzzled at the names of all the different saints. Shrugging, he guessed it didn't really matter which one he did this before…they all worked for the same guy, right? He was sure God would understand his plight, seeing as how he couldn't distinguish any difference between the saints.

Raph nervously eyed the sets of candles in front of him, many of them still flickering in the darkness, holding vigil in the memory or thought of loved ones of those who had visited the cathedral. He reached into his pocket for a dollar to place in one of the collection boxes, feeling better if he contributed to the church.

Silently, his trembling hand reached out for one of the thin sticks to light a candle. He grasped it and brought it to an already burning flame. Withdrawing the stick from the flame, he brought it to light the new wick of another candle. It flashed to life, orange and yellow dancing in the darkness before him. He extinguished the stick and knelt before the candles. Tears once more shimmered in the glow of the ethereal lights that were before him. Raphael covered his face as soft sobs shuddered through his frame.

With a soft whisper, he said, "Goodbye, Master Splinter. I'll never forget you, sensei."

Drawing himself to his feet, he halfheartedly smiled as he watched the dancing light of the candle that shone intermittently, reflecting softly, as it burned brightly. With a tired sigh, he wiped his eyes again that late evening, and he knew somewhere deep down that his master wasn't really gone; he would live on within the hearts and memories of his sons.

With one last glance, Raphael made his way out of the church, also silently hoping that Leo wouldn't be too mad at him when he returned back to the lair. But interestingly enough, the thought of seeing his brothers didn't frighten him so much anymore. He had a feeling things were going to be a little bit better for all of them.

A/N: I wrote this back in 2005 just weeks after my grandmother had recently passed away. During our annual visit to the East Coast for Christmas, my family went to the St. Patrick's Cathedral in NYC, and I had never been inside it before. Everyone that goes in are just stunned by the beauty of all of it; it really was wonderful. I lit a candle for my grandmother. And being in NYC made me think of turtles. Thought this could be a heartfelt moment for Raph…who doesn't really strike me as a normally religious kind of guy.