Insomnia has returned, friends. Fortunately it's brought my muse with it, which means faster updates. Huzzah.
The stairs creaked beneath his feet, his heavy footsteps weighed down by the grief on his shoulders.
Four hours. And not a word. Not a single word.
It's not that he was expecting a long heart to heart, Casey knew better than that. He knew Raph, much like himself, would rather punch out his feelings than speak them. But when they were down—when the anger wouldn't settle and the violence wasn't enough—they'd always talk it out. Only with each other. Because they understood. They were of the same blood. The same mind. The same unquenchable rage.
Not this time.
And it wasn't about the words. Honestly, Casey wouldn't be surprised if Raph didn't speak at all for a good week. It's just how they dealt with pain. But Raph hadn't just been silent, he'd been absent. Entirely blank. Not angry, not vengeful, not… anything. Four hours Casey sat in that room, watching his friend glare at nothing, teeth chattering and body shivering, and not once did he look like he even knew where he was.
He was just… gone.
And Casey didn't know what else he could do.
A few years back, when he'd found out his dad was running with the Purple Dragons, he'd clammed up too. Went on numerous violent thug-bashing sprees that would put Chuck Norris to shame. And Raph had been there through all of it. Didn't ask questions, didn't try to talk it out or solve the problem, just let Casey blow off steam. And two days in, Casey finally spoke. Spilled his guts to his best friend as they sat on that roof and cleaned the blood from their weapons. And all Raph said was "You need a beer." and handed one over. And that was that.
Raph knew how to let Casey vent without feeling any… less for it. And Casey gave the same comfort in return. He knew. 'Cause Raph would come to him anytime he was angry. Anytime he felt he'd failed or him and Leo were fighting…
Anytime.
But now…
Casey sighed as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Maybe Raph just needed more time. Maybe he needed to be alone. Maybe he needed to go out and pummel a few (hundred) drug dealers and bank robbers to work through the mess going on inside. But whatever he needed, wherever Raph was… Casey couldn't reach him.
The thought dropped like a weight on his gut.
"Casey."
Blinking back to reality, Casey registered Splinter's voice and rubbed the back of his neck. "It ain't good, Splinter. He ain't…" Casey needed something to hit. "I got a blanket 'round him to help warm him up, but I don't think he'll be eating any time soon." Splinter's face was impassable, but Casey could tell that wasn't news he wanted to hear. "He needs space. Just… give him some room for a while. He'll come around." Eventually. Hopefully.
Without thinking about where he was going, Casey found himself in the kitchen, watching April wash dishes that looked like they were already clean. He came behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and breathed her in.
"Casey," She let him hold her for a moment, leaning into his body and putting down her dishcloth. After listening to several long, deep sighs, she didn't even need to ask. "That bad?"
Casey rested his temple on the crown of her head, practically burying his face in her hair. "Yeah."
"He's hurting. More than he ever has before." April could feel Casey's guilt radiating like a stoked fire. "He knows you're here. That's enough for now."
"No, it ain't." The tall vigilante stepped back, pulling a chair from the table and sitting down heavily. "It's times like this I'm supposed to know what to do. How to help. And I got nothin'." Another sigh blew past his lips as his fist curled and pounded the table. What he wouldn't give for something to throw right now. "He's… He's my best bud, Red. My brother. He's been there for me through everything: all the crap my dad threw at us, everything that happened with my sister, he even snuck into a busy hospital just to visit me when Shred-head shot me a few years back."
April nearly shuddered. "I remember…"
"He's been there for all of it. Fightin' with me and helping me sort through it all. And now he's the one who needs a friend, and I… I can't think of a single thing to do."
April sat in his lap, draping a comforting arm over his shoulder and letting him rest his head on her chest as she fiddled with his hair.
"He's gone red. Leo's gone. And I think he might have taken Raph with him."
April—not used to Casey being so open without physical violence coming first—kissed his forehead. "We'll get through this. All of us. I don't know how, but we will. Raph will come around eventually, and when he does, we'll be ready to help any way we can."
"Yeah, I guess." Casey turned his head into her neck and kissed it. "I just wish there was more we could do. I wish… I wish Leo…"
"I know." April sighed, holding him close. "Me too."
Taking the sword in his hands with a feather's touch, Splinter smoothed his hand down the length of the hilt, feeling every knick and scratch. His eyes closed of their own accord, attempting to hold in the memories threatening to send him into yet another fit of grief. He breathed deep.
"They had it on display in their base like a trophy." Mikey's quiet tone held no anger or resentment. Only innocent disbelief. "We tried to sneak it out, but one of the Dragons said something about Leo, and…" He glanced at Raph. "Things got out of hand."
Raph didn't say a word, boring a hole in the ground with his unblinking stare.
"I still don't understand how they got it. Did we leave it on the roof?" That night had become a haze, a thick fog that Don didn't dare enter for fear of what he'd be forced to see. Again.
Mikey felt the same way. "I can't remember."
All eyes landed on Raph. He was still the only one who knew what happened that night. And he still refused to talk about it.
"Raphael."
Splinter barely got the name out before his son stood and began storming towards the door.
But Don wasn't letting him get away that easily. He ran ahead, blocking the doorway. "Nuh-uh. You don't get to just walk away. Not again. Not after what you did tonight." He watched Raph's hands curl into fists as he seethed out a breath.
"Move."
"No." Don could see the veins bulge from his brother's wrists as his fingers curled tighter into his palm, but he was still unwilling to move. "You can't keep avoiding us like this. We deserve to know what happened that night. We deserve to know how our brother died!"
Raph went rigid. "Don't."
But Don wouldn't stop. "You owe us, Raph!"
Couldn't.
"Owe you!?"
"You owe us for running off tonight!"
"I don't owe you sh—!"
"You owe us for running off then, too!"
"Don, don't—!" But Mikey was too late.
"You owe us for getting our brother killed!"
The words rang out in the room like a cathedral bell, hanging in the air and daring someone else to speak. He couldn't take them back. He didn't mean them. Did he? He couldn't blame his brother for what happened… and yet every fibre of his being screamed he should. And Don was far too angry to listen to anything else.
Raphael hadn't moved. His hands were balled tight, his arms flexed and poised to attack, and his shoulders were practically hunched to his ears. But he didn't moved.
The silence only brought Don's rage to a tipping point. Why wasn't Raph saying anything!? Why didn't he just tell them what happened!? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn about every—
It was quick. Blink and you would have missed it. But for a moment Don saw it. The pain. The raw, gut-wrenching, nauseating, pain. It streaked through Raph's eyes like a flash of lightning, covered so quickly with anger that Don thought he must have been making it up.
But the way his own anger suddenly curled in on itself and died, he knew he hadn't. Raph really was feeling all that. Potently. Constantly.
Don had never felt regret come on so strongly.
"That is enough." Splinter finally interjected, his hope that his children would talk out their anger and restore peace being dashed with their last words. "My sons, we cannot go on like this. If we are to survive this loss, we must come together and help each other in our grief, not blame one another for it." He handed Michelangelo the katana and placed a paw on each of his elder son's shoulders. "Donatello,"
But Donnie was already trying to walk back his words. "I… Raph, I'm—"
An elbow to his side had Don faltering out of the doorway as Raph stormed passed him, stalking away to his room and slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the walls of the lair.
Splinter knew it unwise to follow. He would allow his son time to calm and focus on the wounds of his younger children. "Donatello,"
"I know... I shouldn't have…" Don blew out a remorseful sigh. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean…" a sob caught in his throat and it was all he could do just to keep himself from collapsing into tears then and there. He cleared his throat. "I know it's not his fault. It's just… if he'd stayed with us, this never would have happened. Leo never would have had to go after him. He'd still be… He wouldn't have…" Don closed his eyes, overwhelmed with the emotions warring over his mind.
"My son," Both paws reached up to grasp his son's tall shoulders, attempting to comfort, not reprimand. "Anger is an unavoidable part of grief. But you cannot let it drive you away from those who love you."
"I…" Don stared out the door, guilt written all over his face. "…What do I do? How do I let it go?"
Splinter paused a moment before glancing at his youngest son, who remained silent in the corner with an innocent hurt on his face. Like a child caught between to warring parents. "Michelangelo. With me." He held out his hand, waited for it to be taken, then led his son to the door.
Don watched his father walk away forlornly. "Sensei?"
"Allow yourself to feel it, my son. We will be waiting when you are ready. As long as it takes." With that, he closed the door.
Donatello stared after them, unable to understand what his father was getting at. Feel what? What was he supposed to feel? He felt nothing. Nothing but anger and bitterness and…
He thought of Leo, his lifeless body lying prone on the roof, drenched in his own blood.
A whine bubbled at the back of his throat.
He thought of Raph, how inconsiderate and dangerous his actions were, and how he'd almost lost him tonight. How he might have just pushed him away for good.
Nausea stirred in his stomach.
He thought of Leo, the worry in his face when he'd found out Raph had left.
He held his breath to keep a sob in.
Leo, sitting by the desk, speaking words of encouragement to keep Don from giving up on his latest project.
Tears welled in his eyes.
Leo, slinging Don's arm around his shoulders and carrying him to safety during a mission gone wrong.
He couldn't…
Leo, knocked to the dojo floor by a new move Don had been practicing and smiling at how proud he was to see Don improving.
Keep them…
Leo, reading a book in his spot on the couch and smiling a greeting when Don walked in the room.
In.
A mournful cry ripped from hiss throat, bellowing through the room. He gripped his head, fell to his knees, and wept, all the pain and anger flowing out of him in droves.
Wept for the brother he'd lost.
Wept for the brother he'd hurt.
Wept for the family, the home, the life that would never be again.
"Raph…" Mikey uttered his brother's name brokenly, his heart heavy at what had happened. As he walked towards the living room, he couldn't help spy up to Raph's room. "Shouldn't we go talk to him, Sensei?"
"Give him time. Approaching your brother now would only drive him further away."
"But… it wasn't his fault. We don't blame him. He should know that…"
Splinter could feel the worry twisting knots in his son's stomach and draped an arm over his shoulders, prompting Mikey to wrap around his torso in a deep hug.
The young turtle sighed sadly, breathing in the smell of his father's robe. "He only got hurt tonight because he was protecting me. If anything, Don should be mad at me."
"Anger does not always follow logic, my son. Donatello's anger runs deeper than tonight's events."
Mikey nodded. He understood Don's anger… he'd felt it too when they were at the farmhouse. Felt a cruel resentment toward Raph that only faded because of a moment of pain he'd witnessed two months ago. But it was unfair. Just because Raph was the last one to see Leo alive, didn't mean he was to blame. Mikey couldn't help but wonder, if it'd been him with Leo on that roof—if he'd been the one to see it all happen—what would he be feeling now?
"Sensei… are we going to be okay?" What if Don never forgave Raph? What if they stayed mad at each other forever? What if Raph ran off again and Mikey wasn't able to—
A loud anguished cry suddenly echoed through the halls. Mikey turned toward the closed med-room door. His heart was practically lurching from his chest with the desire to run and hug his brother tight. "Sensei—"
"It's alright, my son." Splinter stroked Mikey's head in calming circles. "Your brother is finally allowing himself to feel his loss. We must give him time."
The continued bellow of agony sent shivers through Mikey's spine. "But shouldn't we be with him? Does he have to do it alone?"
"Sometimes that is the only way pain will appear. When we are alone and unhampered by others expectations." And as much as it pained him to be distant while hearing his son in such agony, he knew this was what Donatello needed most of all.
Permission to feel. To grieve. Away from the eyes of everyone he was so terrified of disappointing.
"But…"
"He knows we are here, Michelangelo. And when he is ready, he will seek comfort. Until then…"
"Patience and faith." Mikey finished. He'd heard the speech before. It was practically Sensei's motto. And while it didn't make hearing Don cry alone any less painful, it was something to hold onto that gave him purpose. He would wait. He would hope. And he'd be ready when his brother needed him. "…What about Raph?"
Splinter closed his eyes a moment, gathering his thoughts as he tried not to let the tormented wails from the other room cloud his mind. "Raphael needs time. He is not yet ready to face his pain."
Mikey didn't like that answer. "Isn't there anything we can do?"
Pulling away slightly, Mikey found his father staring at him with a look that was almost… pleading. "Michelangelo," Even his tone had changed. Mikey swallowed thickly as he listened. "Your brother is going to avoid this pain as long as he can. And in doing so, he is going to try and push away those who remind him of it. The best thing you can do for him is remain steadfast. When the anger fades and the pain sets in—and it will eventually—he is going to need you to help keep him together. To remind him he is not alone." Splinter gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Are you willing to do that?"
Splinter sounded almost… worried. Mikey blinked. He couldn't believe his father even needed to ask. "Hai, Sensei."
Anything for his brothers. Anything.
"I'll be here."
Gusting winds had picked up outside the barn, snaking through the cracks and slivers of the old wood. Every gust creaked the boards, raising an eerie chorus of ghostly groans. Mikey shivered through his blanket. "It's almost like a horror film. You know those ones where the teenagers get stuck in some creepy old mansion in the middle of nowhere and are picked off one-by-one by some crazy guy in a mask." Another squeal of creaking wood echoed through the barn, but Mikey kept his eyes forward. On the black bag. Waiting for a reply. "I know, I know, you hated those movies. You'd always point out the zillion ways they could have escaped if they'd just "analyzed the situation properly". Or list off the ninjitsu moves they could have used to defeat the enemy. Or how unrealistic the whole plot was in the first place. But you know what I think? I think you secretly enjoyed them." He cocked his brow up to a coy perch. "Oh yeah! I know you got really into them. You even got scared by one of them! It was on my birthday four years ago when you let me pick the movie after the party, and since I'd just turned twenty-one, I wanted to prove I was old enough to watch the scariest movie of them all—The Ring, obviously—and we all got so freaked out we couldn't watch movies for a week. I saw your face, you even closed your eyes at one point!" He paused, then nodded his head. "Yes you did." Paused again, nodding at the bag. "Yes you did, I saw! You started whispering things under your breath to remind yourself it wasn't real. AND you were the first one to suggest we not watch movies for a while." Mikey shook his head, a sliver of a smile splitting his lips. "That was so not for our own good, it was because you were scared." He waited. "Were too!"
A large gust of wind battered the barn, sending up another refrain of creaks and moans. Mikey still stared at the bag in front of him.
"That's not the only time we've seen him scared."
Mikey blinked, pulling himself from his own thoughts to look up and see Donatello finding a seat opposite him, also draped in a blanket and looking down at the black bag.
"You should drink that before it gets cold."
A blink of confusion had Don pointing to Mikey's right, where a steaming cup of tea sat perched beside him. When had Don put that there? Mikey nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't touch the cup. "What else have we seen that scared him?"
"Not movies, I meant real life. Leo got scared all the time."
"He did not. Name a time you actually saw him scared—I mean really scared—and it can't be when we were kids."
"When we first faced Shredder." Mikey nearly shuddered at the memory. "He didn't look it, but his hand trembled slightly until Sensei showed up. Or that time you nearly had your shell knocked off by Tiger Claw."
Mikey thought a moment. "What about that time you were turned in a giant rage monster? Or when Sensei was taken over by Rat King and attacked us."
"See, he's been scared a lot over the years."
"Yeah, but only for us." Mikey's eyes fell back to the bag. "When it came to us, he was a baby! He'd freak out any time we even came close to getting hurt on a mission. But he was never scared for himself. Or at least, never showed it…"
"He'd probably say something about a leader not being allowed to fear for himself."
"Probably."
The barn walls ached, moaning against the constant attacking wind. And yet Mikey couldn't hear any of it. Could only hear the rain. The rain that had been pouring on that roof, washing away Leo's blood. Washing away his life.
"I wonder… I wonder if he was scared on that roof…" He fidgeted with his blanket. "If he knew he was going to… going to…" A lump caught in his throat. "What if that was the last thing he felt?" His words were barely audible, whispered in fear of actually hearing an answer.
But Don heard them clear as an ear-piercing scream.
He waited for the nausea to pass, swallowing back bits of bile as he closed his eyes. "He wasn't alone. Raph was with him."
Mikey's eyes drooped as he held his blanket closer to himself, knuckles gripping it tight enough to pale. "Yeah…"
Raph was with him. Raph dug the grave.
It was all thanks to…
Raph.
I try to base most of the memories in this story on actual events from the comics and show (albeit loosely) and Casey being shot was a big event that happened right before Leo was kidnapped and brainwashed by Shredder to become a Foot soldier. It happens to be one of my favourite issues.
As always, comment if you find anything confusing, if you please.
And thank you to those who have commented/followed this story so far. Your support is greatly appreciated.
End of Line.
-TRAaP
