Raphael laid in bed thinking. He could clearly hear the orange clad turtle enthusiastically telling his brothers and father what had happened. He was tired and wanted to sleep but was having trouble. His brain was busy mulling over the events that had happened the night before.

What am I gonna' do now? He thought to himself. Raphael just stared at his hands. How am I gonna' control this? The angrier I get the harder it is to keep this, what did don call it? Oh yeah, ability. How am I supposed to keep this ability in check if I still can't control my temper? Mikey thinks it's some sort of super power. HMPH! If he thinks it's so great, he can have it.

I wonder if……… Raphael though hard creating a mental image of what he wanted to happen. He opened his eyes and looked once again at his hands. He grinned, quite proud of himself. His fingers were pointed up and on his outside pinky was a little flicker of flame. He was still not used to the fact that it didn't hurt. "Tickles," he said out loud to no one in particular. He wondered if it would do what he told it to.

"Jump," he told it. And it did. The little flame jumped over to his pointer finger. He folded his thumbs and pinky fingers down and touched his two pointer fingers together. When he pulled his fingers apart, they both had a flame dancing on top of them. He brought his left finger up to his mouth and blew it out. Just like a birthday cake. He smiled to himself again. Laying back on his bed and raising his hand above him he kept his finger pointed up. He began to draw in the air. He concentrated, making sure that a line of flame remained wherever he had drawn with his finger. After a few minutes he had a pretty good rendering of a ninja in a fighting stance. He swiped his hand through the drawing making it disappear. This time he drew a picture of his sensei. Not bad. He thought to himself.

Suddenly there was a light tapping at the door. A voice whispered from the other side.

"Raphael? Are you awake?" Raphael 'erased' his drawing and sat up.

"Come in," was the only reply.

Leonardo slid the door open and shifted nervously in the doorway. "Um….. Hey." Was all he could say.

The word "Hey" echoed from the dark room. Leo just stood there, deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to go in.

"Look Leo, are ya' gonna' come in or just stand in the doorway all night?" Raphael finally asked.

Leo pulled his blanket tight around him and walked in. THUMP! "Ow! What the heck was that?" Leo's rubbed his sore toe.

"Oh yeah. You might want to turn a light on so ya' don't trip on anything. There's no telling what I got on this floor."

Leo felt along the edge of the doorway for the light switch and finally found it. With a FLIP and a CLICK, the lights came on. Leo had not actually been in his brother's room in a very long time and what he saw wasn't at all what he had expected. It took a moment for Leo to take everything in. What looked like clutter at first was actually a collection of sorts. Books on one shelf, wood in another corner, the rock that Leo accidentally kicked. He bent down and picked it up. He turned it slowly. He could see all sorts of colors running through the rock. It was incredibly smooth.

"Whatchya' got there Leo?" Raphael held his hand out.

Leonardo shuffled over and sat on the end of Raphael's bed. Raphael pulled his legs up to give his older brother room. Leo leaned over and placed the stone in Raphael's hand. It was then that Leo noticed how big Raphael's hands really were. Where Leo's fingers were just barely touching while clutching the stone, Raphael's fingers overlapped each other a little.

Raphael smiled as he held up the stone and admired it. "Thought I'd lost this," he whispered almost to himself. Raphael stood up, walked over to his bookshelf. He stood a few books back up and placed the stone on the end of the shelf. "Make's a great bookend don't it? I found it in the stream in north Hampton last summer." Raphael grinned a bit and went back to plop down at the head of the bed.

Leo noticed the books his brother had straightened and read the titles to himself, van Gogh, Gauguin, Picasso, Pollock, and Matisse. Contemporary artists. Not something I thought my brother would be interested in. Then, as he continued to survey the room, he noticed the drawings on paper. Some were scattered about while others were in stacks. Pencils and brushes were scattered about. A few paintings were on scraps of old plywood, he had some he had painted on glass, furniture scraps and sheetrock. Then, he saw the unfinished painting sitting in the corner. It was a ground view of the streets of New York at night. At first the painting was very dark with streets that looked abandoned. But the flickers of light glowing from the streetlamps and window gave a comforting feel. The lines and thick paint strokes made it look like the painting belonged in the book about van Gogh.

"Raph, that's beautiful. When did you start doing that?" Leo asked in utter amazement.

Raphael turned and looked at the painting in the corner. "I don't know. A couple of weeks, maybe a month ago. It's been slow going. It's kinda hard to get paint when I need it."

"I didn't know you were into art," and Leo pointed to the stack of books.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Those guys were real good. I can relate to them too." Raphael jokingly tapped at his forehead. "Temperamental just like me. Especially Jackson Pollack and that Vincent van Gogh guy."

"Pollack? Isn't he the guy that just threw paint around?"

"Not quite. He dripped paint around the canvas with a stick. Sometimes he flung it a bit but it was always a purposeful movement. Action Jackson is what the critics called him."

"Oh." Then Leo perked up. He had remembered something. "Hey, is that why you emptied out all the ketchup and mustard onto the table when we were 13?"

"Oh yeah. I had poked a little pin hole in all the little packets. I wanted to paint with them on the paper that was on the table. I think I had only found that book just a few days before. I wanted to do it with paint but all I could get a hold of was some ketchup and mustard packets."

"I remember. Sensei asked why you had to keeping 'testing' his patience and then he grounded you for a week." Both turtles were starting to laugh.

"Yeah. What made it funny was Mikey. He cried because he didn't have any ketchup or mustard for his hotdog." By this time the both of them were laughing pretty hard.

Splinter had stopped to check on his son but didn't go in when he heard his two oldest talking. He smiled and walked away silently when he heard the laughter.

Raphael was now standing up, imitating Michelangelo. "So there's Mikey holding this hotdog and yelling at me because there's no ketchup or mustard. He's getting mad waving his around but his hotdog couldn't take it. It broke in two and the top half that he wasn't holding went flying across the kitchen and landed in the garbage. He runs over to the garbage can screaming this little girly scream. Then he throws the other half at me and yells at the top of his lungs, 'Great Raph! Where am I gonna get another Oscar Meyer Weiner!' I was laughing at him so hard he cried. I couldn't help it really. It was too funny." By this time, both brothers were laughing so hard they were holding their sides and their eyes were tearing up.

"Oh man that was funny. Mike was funny." Raph chuckled a bit and wiped a tear from his eye.

"Hey, give the kid a break he was only 10," Leo chuckled.

"So," Raph stated after catching his breath. "Why are you here?"

"Huh?"

"Well I'm assuming you didn't come in here to talk art and hotdogs. What's up?"

"Look Raph," Leo said losing the humor in his tone. "Mikey told us about what happened in the dojo. I'm sorry. I would've been really scared if that was me."

"And I wasn't? It seriously freaked me out. I had no idea what I had done or what was happening to me. By the way, did Donnie figure out about all the water drops on the wall?"

"yeah actually. He thinks that right before you burned up the punching bag; you absorbed all the heat from the room and that left all the moisture behind. I think he said it had something to do with osmosis."

"Oh." Raphael tried to sound like he understood how that could happen but he didn't. Sometimes Donnie's words sounded like a foreign language. There was and uncomfortable silence in the room for a minute. But then Leo spoke again.

"Raph," Leo paused for a moment, not sure if he should ask the next question. He decided to. He needed to know. Raphael was sitting there waiting. "Raph, I know you don't like me all that much, but do you hate me? Because I really don't want you to hate me."

Raphael sat quietly for a moment. "It's funny Leo. I always thought you hated me. You're always on my back about going out or messing up a move in practice. I just figured you acted that way because you couldn't stand me."

"What! No Raph. I don't hate you," Leo insisted. "I've always kind of admired you," he said quietly while looking down. Raphael was almost in shock at what he had heard.

"You've got to be kidding me Leo. I'm temperamental, I yell and brake things, and get in trouble all the time. I am seriously screwed up. Why would you admire me?" He couldn't believe what his brother just admitted to.

You're brave Raph. And strong. You don't let anyone push you around."

"I'm not brave, Leo. Just stubborn. Pigheaded too." Raphael grinned. He was almost proud of the fact that he wouldn't do as he was told. But not completely. "It's not always a good thing. I don't know when to back down. It gets me in a lot of trouble with sensei. In a way, I admire you. I know I couldn't do any of that leader stuff. I'd get us all in some deep trouble 'cause I don't think things through. Plus, you take the lessons Sensei teaches so seriously. You practice till you get the moves perfect then practice even more. That's dedication bro'. Something I don't have." I can't believe I admitted to all of that. Raphael sat quietly. He realized he had been scratching and rubbing nervously at his right arm. Gotta' quit doin' that. He thought.

Leonardo sat there thinking. He was holding his elbow in his hand and rubbing his chin with the other. He wanted to say but it was hard. He and Raph don't usually talk, just argue. Finally, "You are dedicated Raph," and he motioned to that artwork stacked everywhere.

"So…. I guess… we do have something in common." Me? Something in common with Splinter Jr. here? Oh jeeze, the world is coming to an end. I just know it.

Leo's voice brought him back. "We're both stubborn," he joked.

"Oh no! I'm not stubborn just pigheaded. You, you're just obsessive," Raphael replied with a smile.

"OK" Leo said. "I can handle that."

Raphael yawned for a moment. Leo got up to leave so his brother could rest. As he got to the door, Raphael stopped him.

"Hey Leo…."

"Yeah Raph?" Leo turned to look at him.

"As stubborn as we both are we're probably going to get into more fights. But please don't think I hate ya' 'cause I don't."

"I know Raph. Goodnight," and he turned off the light.

Thinking his brother couldn't hear him, Raphael softly whispered, "Love ya' bro'."

"Love you to Raph," Leo whispered back.

Raphael smiled and went to sleep.

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Yay! A happy ending (to the chapter not the story). See, Leo can be a good guy when he wants to.

OK, I know that a lot of people usually write Mikey in as the artist. But lots of my friends are artists and I am as well. Not one of us acts like Mikey. Most of us are temperamental and/or suffer from depression. If we aren't upset or angry about something, it's probably because we're hitting our high or we've been given meds to take. Besides most artists who were pioneers in a new movement, like the ones I listed, have personalities that, for the most part, run parallel with Raphael's persona. So, making Raph the artist of the family seemed to fit.