A/N I do not own TMNT, but I am forever grateful for their existence.
I totally meant to get this chapter to you sooner after last week's cliff hanger, but then I remembered what a behemoth this chapter is. Oh and life (aka it was a ridiculous week at work) happened. Seriously though, this chapter is a beast! You are going to want to grab some tea (or your beverage of choice) and hunker down because you are in for a long and bumpy ride.
Thanks again for reading!
Love or Blood
Chapter 20: Truth
"MEW!"
Pulling open the freezer door, Michelangelo felt his face strain from exhaustion as he summoned a small grin, "Hi to you too, Ice Cream Kitty."
The creepy creamy feline tilted her head in concern, "Meeerow."
The turtle before her sighed, "Aw man Icy K, what am I gonna do?"
"Meeeyaoooorrrr."
The youngest of the mutant turtles wished a lack of sleep was the worst of his worries. Usually when he went to visit his favourite pile of mutated goop, Michelangelo had little difficulty unloading his woes. This particular morning, he didn't even know where to begin.
His biggest concern of course regarded the eldest, Leonardo. It was well past the twenty-four hour mark since he was last sighted, and Michelangelo was practically beside himself with worry. The unease he felt before the rain started was nothing compared to what it was now. The youngest did not know what had happened, but whatever it was, had taken away the last remnant of his brother.
Before the storm began, several days ago, Michelangelo could at least have a conversation with this brother. It was a predominantly stilted and one-sided affair; nonetheless, it was still a form of interaction in which Leonardo at least acknowledged each participant's existence. The last few days, during or after retrieving his brother from the woods, had left the orange-clad turtle feeling more than a little unsettled.
His brother would look at him as though he weren't even there, and would blurt random things that were completely irrelevant to the subject at hand. Leonardo was seeing or hearing something that his baby brother couldn't. In the depths of those dark woods, just before sunset, said conversations with the ethereal had Michelangelo looking over his shoulder nervously more than he ever did while infiltrating any Kraang facility.
However, what scared the freckled turtle the most, was not the unseen presences, but the fact that with every passing day, his leader was becoming harder and harder to reach. After searching all night without a trace of the blue-clad terrapin, Michelangelo could not ignore the stretching and cramping in his anxious intestines that told him Leonardo was no longer in his reach at all.
He knew it had always been Leonardo's battle, his decision, his demon, but God, had Michelangelo desperately tried to help his brother. The youngest turtle could feel his brother's suffering, and so badly wanted to guide him back to the light. He could feel his confusion, shame, and sorrow, but everything he knew how to do, had no effect.
It was as a last resort that he had tried to confine Leonardo to the house. Fearing the rain would give the eldest hypothermia, thereby reducing him to a frozen corpse on the muddy forest floor, Michelangelo desperately attempted to keep his brother always in sight. Unfortunately, paired with the youngest turtle's inevitable need for sleep and his brother miraculously managing to retain of all his ninja techniques the one that allowed him to travel undetected, Michelangelo was fighting a losing battle. Try as he might, the freckled turtle could not keep up with Leonardo's stealth, and so every morning, Michelangelo would awaken with the farm perimeter having once again been breached.
The only remotely small consolation to the eldest's current disappearance – to whatever unknown whereabouts tickled his dark rumination's malevolent fantasies – was that with the final cessation of precipitation, said mutant reptile would at least not meet his end within the tempest's cold dark grasp. However, Michelangelo knew no sunshine would ever be complete without his brother there to experience it beside him.
Of course he was aware that there were other methods Leonardo could implement if he really decided to not come back. That single thought was probably the most terrifying the youngest brother had ever conceived.
The worst part? That he hadn't gotten to say goodbye to the real Leonardo, the big brother he hadn't seen since the day the invasion had begun. If the darkness succeeded in consuming him now, there would never again be any more chances to uncover that lost brother, and there would never be another opportunity to tell him what he meant to Michelangelo.
Yes, he had been their leader, but he had been so much more. If the darkness won, he'd never get to tell this brother how he had been their strength, their determination, and their morality. How he drove them to be better in not just ninjutsu, but in all things.
If he didn't come back, Michelangelo wouldn't ever again get to see his brother geek out over a "Space Heroes" episode. He wouldn't ever be able to lord over his Plus One Ring of Awesomeness while Leonardo never failed to humour his little brother in his dramatic displays of envy over not having such a wondrous artifact in his possession. He would never get to draw on his face or shell again. He'd never get to prank him again.
He'd never get to wake him in the middle of the night. No matter the rhyme or reason, be it nightmare or thunder, would Leonardo ever turn his baby brother away, but if he died out there in the woods, Michelangelo would never again awaken to find his blue-clad guardian waiting patiently to wipe away his tears.
If that happened
That would be it.
It would be over.
He'd never get to say goodbye
He'd never get to tell him how much he needed him
He'd never get to tell him how much he loved him
And always would.
"Meeeyaoooorrrr."
"I know I haven't slept."
"Meeeeew."
"Well you try sleeping when it's all you can think about!"
"Merow?"
Nonetheless, Michelangelo's nocturnal combing of every inch of the North Hampton woods had not been entirely in vain. True, he didn't succeed in finding Leonardo's location, but he had managed to stumble across Raphael in the wee hours of the morning – if he had a watch he would have perhaps been more exact. Apparently, there were many restless turtle souls in the forest that night.
Although the youngest mutant had not been relieved of his ever-growing anxiety regarding Leonardo, Michelangelo was not displeased at the second oldest reptile's appearance. Raphael's rapid departure – after ripping Donatello a new one – had not been unexpected. By this point in their brotherly relationship, Michelangelo knew when Raphael had one of his outbursts – or temperamental turtle tantrums as he secretly dubbed it – often the best way of handling the aftermath was to give the red-clad reptile some space to work out the rest of his frustrations. However, this time, Michelangelo had to admit, he found it more disturbing.
It wasn't the fact that Raphael had pushed Donatello under the surface in his fury to land as many blows as he could that had made it different. They were turtles after all, and despite their drastic mutations, they still had managed to retain several of their original adaptations. Obviously, they could still withdraw into their shells, but like any "normal" tortoise, when they were not curled up defensively within their bony protective armour, there was a lot of extra space for their lungs to utilize. Consequently, although Michelangelo held the record – thirty-two minutes and fifty-eight seconds like a turtle do – each terrapin could easily hold their breath for more than fifteen minutes. If without warning or under stress, it would naturally be less, but as a result, all four mutants had many fond – if slightly painful – memories of many aquatic skirmishes. So even though April had been concerned over Donatello potentially drowning, Michelangelo knew this brother had more than several minutes to go before he even made it close to the critical zone.
Besides, it wasn't exactly abnormal for any of the mutants to fight. Naturally, as all brothers do, the four turtles regularly kept each other's egos in check. When one was getting a little too cocky or conceited, their fellow brothers were always quick to notice, and even faster to knock said sibling down a couple of pegs. However, this current conflict had been building for days, and was not such a simple affair.
No, the physical aspect of the fight was not what disturbed Michelangelo. It was the way in which Raphael had been provoked, and therein lay much of the youngest turtle's present frustration. True, he did not like seeing Donatello beaten within an inch of his life, but Michelangelo could not help feeling as though this particular brother had marginally deserved it.
Admittedly, the last few days had not been Michelangelo's best in terms of tuning into his brothers' feelings. The youngest was too busy borderline-obsessing over Leonardo's wellbeing, and consequently had not possessed his usual pragmatic approach when it came his brothers' emotions. Michelangelo simply had not realized to what extent Donatello had been suffering, and perhaps this was why he had failed to intervene sooner. True, there were the carefully selected jabs thrown here and there, but understandably, considering the circumstances, Michelangelo believed the comments to be no more than mere frivolous slurs made to sting but not to mark.
Additionally, the blue-eyed turtle suddenly had found himself experiencing Donatello as a more consistent companion. They never talked about anything profound, yet somehow, in his ever-strong optimism, the orange-clad mutant had even let himself believe that his older brother's actions over the last few days were all a result of Donatello's own concern regarding Leonardo or even Michelangelo himself. After all, the youngest had found his bo-wielding brother more often in his company during those few rainy days than he had in over a month; however, after witnessing Donatello's callous display at the lake, Michelangelo simultaneously recognized feelings of both animosity and betrayal oozing to the surface.
Foolishly thinking said brother had come to realize that the feud with Casey over April had only put a wedge between him and his brothers, Michelangelo had believed the purple-clad reptile had finally gained some perspective. Deep down, the smallest turtle had even stupidly hoped that maybe for once Donatello was trying to be there for him instead of the other way around. After catching that subtle – yet undeniable – smirk on Donatello's smug face when April swam over to him, Michelangelo had no doubt that his brother had only been using him, and frankly, he was starting to get more than a little pissed towards any member contributing to the whole inanity of this never-ending melodrama.
"Merow?"
"How can I not?
"Mew. Mew."
"I know Ice Cream Kitty, but no matter where I go these days, I can't escape."
"Meeeyao."
Michelangelo didn't know how it happened, but somehow in the course of their time hidden away at the farm, the party had begun to lose perspective. Leonardo obviously had an excuse – which was a problem in and of itself. The others however, did not – and some were definitely worse off than others.
Of them all, Raphael was the only one who had managed to maintain his physical prowess. Michelangelo and April were probably next in line, but even the youngest had to admit that he had really been slacking the last couple of weeks. Still, at least he had been more-or-less keeping up with his ninjutsu. Donatello and Casey had fallen off the training wagon months ago.
Although they still exercised fairly regularly to at least remain physically fit, Donatello had especially neglected his endurance and strength. Meanwhile, Casey continued to complacently bank on his tried and true street moves. Michelangelo had no doubt that there was definite value in the vigilante's method, but if they were ever going to get back and reclaim New York, he knew it would take more than some fancy stick work from both members of their team.
Therein lay Michelangelo's greatest frustration. Yes, Leonardo had him out of his shell with worry. Yes, Casey and Donatello's training negligence was displeasing. Yes, the whole everyone-loves-April thing was exhausting. However, what Michelangelo really was becoming truly angry about – to the point where he was practically downright resentful – was that somehow, over their time in North Hampton, the others had lost sight of why they had retreated there in the first place. The key word being: "retreated."
They hadn't surrendered, they hadn't fled, and they hadn't been captured. They had retreated. Meaning that they had every intention of coming back to fight another day once they sufficiently recovered.
Of course, Leonardo's physical injuries had delayed the process, but while he was recovering, they should have been training. Hell, "training" didn't even cover what they should have been doing. They should have been preparing and bettering themselves; so that as soon as all their injuries were healed, they could go back and reclaim what was rightfully theirs. First they would find Splinter – another point of contention since Michelangelo was the only one who believed their Sensi was still alive – and then, after locating Karai, they would make sure both Kraang and Shredder rued the day they ever dared to cross the New York bred mutants' – including one Casey Jones – path.
Yet, somehow, they had gotten lost. Even Michelangelo himself wasn't where he wanted to be, and wasn't entirely certain how he could find his way back. Up until a few days ago, Raphael too had been in the same boat as the youngest – not entirely sure how he was going to rally the team – but still willing to try. Then, as the rain set in, something started to shift in the green-eyed terrapin. Michelangelo had little doubt that a certain plotting sibling had something to do with it. His beliefs were confirmed well into the night following the occurrence at the lake.
"Meeeyao."
"I have tried talking about it! No one wants to talk about it!"
"Meeeyaoooorrrr."
"No one listens to me anymore anyway."
"Meeeeew!"
It was difficult to see any clear detail under that thin sliver of moonlight, but out of the gloom, Michelangelo had caught a glimpse of light-coloured fabric. Knowing it had to belong to one of his brothers, the turtle crept through the underbrush to emerge in a small clearing. Even in the darkness, the youngest instantly recognized the owner to that bulky silhouette, "Raph! There you are!"
Based on the tread marks through the cool dewy grass, his older brother had been pacing in this secluded location for some time. Undoubtedly, the grimness of his voice mirrored his restless thoughts, "It's the middle of the night Mike. Go back to bed."
If that was the best argument Raphael could offer, Michelangelo was going nowhere soon, "I'm not leaving without you."
With a shrug the larger turtle resumed his pacing, "Suit yourself."
"Uh…" The unwillingness to even remotely try and convince the orange-clad turtle to clear off disarmed Michelangelo. He was left gaping as the minutes dragged on while Raphael continued his endless circling, trapped inside his own mind. When it was apparent the elder was not about to engage in conversation any time soon, Michelangelo stepped in front of the pacing turtle, "Hey…" The black look Raphael gave him enticed the smaller turtle to step back out of the path as he asked, "You ok?"
Pausing mid-stride the turtle sighed, "Not really," before continuing.
The forlorn sound of defeat in his big brother aided Michelangelo in regaining the courage to obstruct Raphael's path once more, "You know what Don said in that story isn't true right?"
Thankfully, Raphael was less aggressive to this interruption, "Isn't it?"
He took his brother's offering and ran with it, "Bro, you know Don just made that up to piss you off because he's still upset about this whole April thing."
"Doesn't change that I pounded the shit out of him."
Based on that charming reaction, the freckled turtle attempted a different strategy, "I know… but you're sorry aren't you?"
Raphael snapped, "Obviously." Michelangelo frowned, he felt like he was pulling teeth. Every one or two word answer leaving them both unsatisfied. Raphael only made it more painful by delaying the inevitable and refusing to let his little brother access to the root of the problem.
Michelangelo again, "So…?"
"I proved him right."
Four words that time. Just a little more digging and his brother's dam definitely would break. Not. "Raph you just fell into his trap. You didn't prove anything."
"Yes I did! It took both you and Casey to get me off!"
That wasn't the response Michelangelo had expected. He thought Raphael would dive right into how stupidly Donatello had been dealing with the April issue, "Well duh, of course it took both of us. You're kind of a tank dude."
He was further surprised when Raphael silently backed away, "…"
Michelangelo tried to piece together what his brother was feeling, but he needed to be careful. He did not want Raphael to bolt again. Stating the obvious seemed to be the best way he could buy some time, "Come on Raph. You can't be upset about being bigger than us. You've always been way stronger."
He was glad Raphael remained where he was, but the silence was not very reassuring, "Besides I thought you liked it? Isn't that why you lift weights all the time?"
"That was before."
Finally an answer. It was a muttered answer, but an answer nonetheless. Naturally, Michelangelo poked it, "Before what?"
Of course, it had to be a sleeping bear and not a snoozing bunny that he prodded. Raphael snarled, "Before Donnie pointed out that I was a monster duckling! You, Leo, and Don… Then there's me…"
Still the pain was evident underneath the bared teeth. Although it was slowly becoming clearer, Michelangelo was not convinced that he understood Raphael's point fully. However, if the freckled reptile's gut was right, which it usually was, he needed to try and nip this dark sapling in the bud before it could spread further, "What are you talking about? Ok you're stronger, but Donnie and Leo are both still taller than you. Yeah we're different, but we're still four peas in a pod, four strings to a quartet or… or four turtles to a soup! Wait, maybe not that last one…"
The comment fell on deaf ears. Raphael's voice was back to sounding forlorn, "You're wrong. I'm just a screw-up. A big stupid screw-up."
Michelangelo was not ready to admit defeat, "Ok first of all, there's no way I'm smarter than you. That's my turf bro."
"You're plenty smart Mikey."
He did appreciate Raphael's rare bit of praise, "Why thank-you," Nevertheless, it was time to pull his brother out of his funk, "But we're not talking about me, we're talking about you. I don't know what's got you so in the dumps, but you're no screw-up."
Raphael was nowhere near convinced, "Then why did April go to Donnie? Why did she think I was going to drown him?"
Michelangelo rolled his eyes, "Dude you were beating on him in the water…"
"We're turtles Mikey! You and I both know Don can hold his breath for fifteen minutes no sweat."
Michelangelo resisted from taking this moment to gloat about his record breath – a thirty-two minutes and fifty-eight second feat of awesomeness – in favour of pointing out that there were still many things their human friends still did not know about them, "Well yeah. But does April know that?"
Raphael gestured desperately, "That shouldn't matter! The point is she thought I would kill my own brother!"
The orange-clad turtle did not respond for a moment. Instead, he valiantly tried to understand how Raphael's thoughts – admittedly not always organized logically, but at least usually had some kind of emotional hierarchy – were going, "Um… Ok…"
Raphael's eyes glimmered in pained frustration at Michelangelo's lack-luster response, "Ain't it obvious? April thinks I'm a menace."
There it was. Tucked away in the obvious, yet Michelangelo could not help but respond flatly, "No she doesn't."
His brother adamantly retorted, "Yes she does."
It was ridiculous. Yet somehow, his big brother had gone from believing April liked him to thinking he was now some kind of a hideous beast in her eyes, "Raph, trust me. There's no way April would ever think that about you."
His heart choked upon seeing the sheer amount of self-loathing twisting on the face of the brother before him, "I thought so too… But I was wrong…"
"Bro…" Then, just when Michelangelo thought they were finally making some progress, Raphael spun on the spot and sped to the edge of the clearing. The smaller turtle ran and grabbed his brother's shoulder, "Wait Raph!"
Raphael then pierced Michelangelo with a look that he had only rarely seen in his elder sibling. His irises had hardened and no moonlight dared break into their dark metallic realm, "You didn't see her eyes."
The freckled turtle dropped his hand, and was helpless to watch as another brother disappeared into the darkness.
"Meeeeew!"
"I know you do, but no offense, you can't exactly help.
"Meeeyaoooorrrr."
"Sorry… I know we can't keep going like this."
"Meeeeuuu…"
"Um Mikey…"
The freckled turtle turned away from the freezer to see Casey Jones looking at him oddly from the entryway leading to the hall. When Michelangelo didn't respond immediately the teenager spoke, "Uh… Am I interrupting something?"
Michelangelo rolled his eyes at the lame joke and closed the door on his creamy pet, "Come on dude, I'm not that creepy."
Casey waved his hands in denial, "Hey did I say that? No. Did I ask that? No." Michelangelo saw Donatello enter the kitchen as Casey's rambling continued. "Hey speaking of asking, do you know why April just sprinted out of the house and into the woods alone?"
The olive-skinned turtle still bore evidence to the skirmish from the day before: his cheek was stitched roughly, the lid above said cheek was swollen, but after about a week, he would probably be no worse for wear. The aforementioned reptile immediately froze upon the vigilante's comment regarding April, "She did what?"
The younger mutant frowned, but said nothing as Casey turned to the elder, "Chill Don, it was like five minutes ago. I saw her from my bedroom window."
When Casey asked where April had run off to, Michelangelo's guts had shriveled. He should have spoken to her when he had the chance. However, the darkness of the night had dug its claws into the young turtle as well, and it had not wanted to immediately relinquish its latest prey. Of course she had fled the farmhouse. Hadn't he done the same thing numerous times himself? To earn just a few minutes asylum from the sheer insanity of it all? Now she would find something new, but that something was Raphael. In his current state of being, Michelangelo knew what was awaiting April and it left him cursing, "Oh shell… That stupid moron…"
Donatello tilted his head in question, but Michelangelo saw that his eyes already knew the answer, "Who are you talking about?"
The youngest could not prevent several sparks of anger from igniting within his voice, "You know who I'm talking about."
His brother responded in that infuriatingly calm tone that aggravated all of his brothers. Regardless, the younger saw Donatello's guilt as he fell for his trap, "It's not my problem if Raph screws this up."
Michelangelo replied coldly, "Feeling guilty Dee?"
A flicker of realization briefly passed through Donatello's eyes, "Why would you think that?"
Casey snorted, "Dude, you just fell for the oldest trick in the book. No one mentioned Raph, but you brought him up."
Flustered Donatello snapped, "Because we were all thinking it! Like I said, it's not my fault if this turns sour because of him."
Michelangelo knew he was on the brink of losing it himself, "Oh yes it is!"
The elder gave the younger a condescending look, "Oh really, Michelangelo? Please enlighten me on how I managed to have any influence whatsoever on our brother's oh-so-charming demeanor."
That did it. Michelangelo of course felt anger as much as the next turtle, but usually his duration in wrath-ville was very short. Instead, he typically continued right into sorrow-central, forcing his rage to quickly fizzle out under drenching tears.
Today, was not one of those days.
Jolts of his ire transformed his eyes into a shocking electric blue, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? YOU'RE THE ONE THAT SET HIM UP! You've been guilt-frying him for days – hoping to manipulate his mind into upside-down brain noodle soup! And guess what? YOUR PLAN WORKED! Now our brother is convinced he's some kind of monster!"
Donatello balked slightly under Michelangelo's surprising outburst, but when he spoke his voice continued to be filled with composure, "You're being melodramatic Mikey. Besides, is it my problem if he takes things too literally?"
However, the orange-clad reptile was just getting started. He had had enough with this inanity, and today it was getting addressed. He latched onto Donatello's wrist with an iron grip, "It's your problem now. Come on!"
Finally losing some of his cool, the elder brother attempted to pry off the younger's constricting green digits, "Let go Michelangelo! I'm not going anywhere!"
The blue-eyed turtle tightened his grip, but knew he needed assistance. He hoped Casey had indeed recovered from April's rejection as much as his behaviour suggested; otherwise without the hockey player's support, an already exhausting day – never mind that it was not even nine yet – would verge on the downright unbearable, "Cas-"
Casey Jones didn't even wait for the words to leave the Michelangelo's lips. The expression on the human's face indicated that he too was quickly wearing out his last nerve. The older turtle protested as the vigilante added his strength, "Hey!"
The ice jock did not ease his hold as he glanced at his ally, "Don't worry Mikey, I got your back." Then he turned to glare at his prisoner, "He's right Don. You need to fix this."
Donatello continued to struggle, "How can you say that? He betrayed you too!"
Proceeding through the doorway the human responded, "No he didn't. Yeah I was pissed at first," He met the purple-clad turtle's wide-eyed stare, and Michelangelo caught a flash of remorse cross Casey's face. Just as Michelangelo should have intervened sooner, Casey too had failed to approach Donatello the instant it became clear that the brown-eyed turtle was struggling against such corrupting inner turmoil, but now was the time to make things right, "But mostly, I was pissed at myself for not seeing it sooner. Not just in April, but in Raph. I mean what kind of knob doesn't notice when his best friend has the hots for someone?"
They were now dragging a more-deflated Donatello towards the woods. Casey directed the trio towards the garden, which was where he had seen April disappear. Michelangelo interjected with a voice still simmering with subtle anger, however he was impressed with his human friend, "Don't feel bad Case," he pierced Donatello with his stare, "apparently, brothers miss it too."
The purple-clad turtle defended, "B-but that's all the more reason why Raph shouldn't have made a move!"
"Except love doesn't work that way Don. Look, you just need to accept things for what they are and that sometimes no matter what you do, they are just not in your control." Casey sighed then proceeded with a tinge of melancholy, "Raph and April got together not to spite you. They got together because they like each other. We just weren't meant to be with April."
When neither reptile responded, the human continued solemnly, "You're a friend and a brother, Don. So for the sake of your friendship with April – hell for the sake of brotherly love – shouldn't you just let it go so they can be happy?"
Donatello gave the vigilante a sharp look, and Casey narrowed his eyes as he finished, "Donnie, did you ever think that you're the one betraying them because you refuse to let them be? I mean what kind of guy keeps a couple apart and makes them miserable just so that he can be kind of happy? No offense dude, but I don't think that's the kind of guy you want to be."
Michelangelo was more than awed that somehow Casey had managed to figure all that out for himself. Apparently the many moments when the youngest turtle had spied the vigilante looking out into the rain as though in silent thought – had been moments of actual thought. Turned out, despite everyone's assumptions, Casey Jones maybe wasn't quite so immature after all.
Donatello opened his mouth to speak, when a familiar voice sliced through the underbrush, "If you don't know the answer to that by now then obviously we're both wasting our time."
Michelangelo pressed his finger to his lips, "Guys, shhh!"
The ice in Raphael's voice left each member of the trio wide-eyed, "Don't hurt yourself."
April whined, "Raph…"
"I was wrong. You care no more about me than you did about Don."
Donatello gaped, "He thinks she doesn't care about him?"
Michelangelo and Casey simultaneously raised their eyebrows in a silent "this is totally your fault" gesture, leaving Donatello with little doubt as to how they felt about the matter at hand. Their attention abruptly returned to the arguing couple when April cried, "Raph wait!"
"Hey, I get it. I'm a giant fucking turtle monster. What could you possibly love?"
The three hidden individuals were stunned into silence as the tempest raged before them. Michelangelo felt his heart tear in all directions. His first impulse was to smack Donatello upside the head – for what they were witnessing in the garden, was the consequence of his selfish scheming. However, part of him also felt a profound amount of pity towards his purple-clad brother. Clearly, Donatello must have been in a substantial amount of emotional pain in order for him to lash out in such damaging manipulation, and so, Michelangelo felt tremendous guilt for allowing his brother to venture onto this cruel dark path in the first place.
Suddenly, the youngest found himself looking into a dark abyss. A line between light and dark. Somewhere in that black oblivion his three older brothers wandered – their souls' light lost within themselves. April's shrill distress shattered his vision, "WHY WON'T YOU JUST STOP AND LISTEN TO ME FOR TWO SECONDS?"
"WHY SHOULD I?" Despite his words, Raphael did cease his movements before spinning around, "You just automatically assumed I was going to kill my own brother. I know I lose it sometimes April, but I would NEVER do that!"
The red-head walked over to place her hand on the red-clad turtle's arm, "I never said any of that!"
Raphael flinched from her grasp, "Well you may as well have."
Clasping her scorned hand, April cried, "What do you want me to say Raphael? I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! Please just stop and think for a minute!"
Raphael turned back to the forest, "A minute won't change anything."
April's voice sounded like a tiny injured bird, "How do you know if you won't even try?"
"Because I've endured a lifetime of this April. A whole fucking lifetime. Trust me, Don's wounds will heal, but mine? Well how can they when there's nothing to fill the hole they left behind?"
For a moment there was silence as Raphael disappeared into the woods. Michelangelo's senses told him when his brother was well out of ear shot. He then turned to face his companions when wails of anguish suddenly pierced the silence. Michelangelo and Casey both stared daggers at Donatello who quivered at the sound.
The only vague, miniscule silver lining that Michelangelo could find as his piercing blue eyes stabbed into his brother, was that finally some tiny inkling of remorse had managed to appear on his features when he whispered, "What have I done?"
Casey unmercifully hissed, "What Don? Aren't you enjoying the fruits of your labour?"
The usually verbose terrapin stuttered, "I… I didn't know… I didn't mean…"
Hearing his brother admission of what he had done gave Michelangelo hope. Perhaps not all of his siblings were so lost after all. Nonetheless, it was time for an intervention. Michelangelo refused to see either Raphael or Donatello follow in Leonardo's footprints. It was time to force them to look inside themselves and face the truth.
Meanwhile, the vigilante seethed, "Didn't mean what? For this to happen? Because I'm pretty sure that's exactly what you were hoping to happen."
Donatello stood and began to walk towards April, "Then let me fix it."
The time had come. Michelangelo grabbed him, "No."
Out of shock, the elder did not fight his captor this time, "What?"
Michelangelo nodded at the human, "Casey will take care of April."
Both Donatello and Casey appeared slightly unsure of the cold command Michelangelo had assumed. However, Casey had proclaimed himself to be the youngest turtle's ally and so he saluted, "On it chief," before entering the clearing.
At Casey's departure, Michelangelo continued to speak in the same tone that before now, he had not thought himself capable, "Donatello, you are coming with me. We are going to find Raphael, and you are going to fix this."
Donatello's jaw unhinged at the transformation overtaking the brother before him, but when said smaller turtle narrowed his eyes, the elder did not hesitate to obediently follow him into the forest.
For several minutes, Michelangelo's mind churned in silence as he ran. He was not used to such a visceral, all-consuming feeling, and found himself beginning to understand why Raphael and Leonardo were always so uptight. Evidently, Donatello was either so overwhelmed by guilt and/or so reluctant to provoke Michelangelo's ire that somehow the slower reptile managed to keep in stride despite the more than brisk pace. Perhaps that was why only fifteen minutes later, the two youngest brothers had managed to catch sight of their red-clad elder resting in a clearing beside a steady creek.
When Raphael spied them, he prepared to spring back into a run. Michelangelo ordered, "Raph stop!"
He had not hesitated to hide the command in his shout, and apparently it had left enough of an impression to keep the green-eyed turtle in place. Michelangelo continued to project an aura of dominance as he approached his elder brother with a meek Donatello in tow, "You two need to talk."
Although Raphael had been temporarily disarmed by his baby brother's new found attitude, he still retained much of his previous fury, "PISS OFF MIKEY!"
Heedless of Raphael's intimidating size advantage, Michelangelo stood his ground to retaliate, "NO! YOU PISS OFF!"
Obviously torn between amusement and shock at his brother's new daring spunk, Raphael smirked, "First off, you told me to stop. Second off, where'd you get the shell to say that to me?" He nodded to Donatello, "Maybe you can order Donnie around, but in case you haven't noticed," He stepped forward to loom over Michelangelo, "You are at a disadvantage baby bro."
For the first time since challenging his brother, Michelangelo felt his mercurial resolve drip beads of cold fear into his veins. He swallowed, but maintained his position, not daring to let electric blue break away from blazing green, "Fine. Go ahead. Beat me up, but even if you kick my shell a hundred times, I'll keep coming back."
Raphael leaned his face closer, putting it within inches of Michelangelo's, and mockingly raised an eye ridge, "Yeah? What's so important about him," his jade eyes flicked to Donatello and back, "That you'd willingly let me wax your shell?"
Michelangelo could feel Raphael's stale hot breath on his face and continued to become more and more aware of his smaller stature. However, even as his bowls shriveled in terror he plowed on, "It's about you. It's about him. It's about me. It's about all of us Raphael. You guys have all forgotten why we came here."
His brother snorted in his face, but mercifully, pulled back ever so slightly, "We didn't have a choice Mike. We had nowhere else to go."
The younger valiantly shook his head, "There's always a choice Raph. We could have surrendered. We could have fought until we fell defeated. We could have fled – never to show our faces to the light of day again. Instead we retreated."
Raphael frowned and straightened up to fold his arms, "So what? We still ran with our tails between our legs."
Michelangelo released a breath, immensely relieved Raphael had withdrew some of the tension. Now, the younger turtle might actually live to see another day, "Maybe, but we left with every intention of coming back. We'd heal, train harder, and would return to reclaim our city! Wasn't that the plan?"
Now that there was no longer a nerve-wracking battle of wills, Donatello stepped forward, "That's still the plan Mikey."
Raphael nodded solemnly, but Michelangelo shook his head vehemently, "No. Guys, we've been here for months. Summer's around the corner, and the only one of us who has even tried to take training seriously is Raph."
The elder shrugged, "Not my fault you guys are slackers."
Donatello glared, "Excuse me for wasting all that time trying to recreate the retro-mutagen so we can turn everyone back to normal!"
"Bros! Don't you see?" Michelangelo waved in exasperation, "Every one of us is at fault! We're supposed to be supporting and pushing each other to improve" he pointedly looked at both brothers, "not tearing at each other's throats! Even worse, we're losing Leo guys, and if we don't have him we may as well just throw in the towel!"
Donatello questioned, "You didn't bring him home last night?"
"I couldn't find him!"
Raphael's eyes hardened, "So he never came back? What the hell Mike!? Why didn't you say something?"
Michelangelo bristled, "DON'T YOU THINK I TRIED? I've tried everything, but nothing's working!" The younger's rage once again bared its teeth, "AND NEITHER ONE OF YOU SHOULD BE ON MY CASE! YOU'VE BEEN SO BUSY FIGHTING OVER APRIL THAT YOU'VE COMPLETELY MISSED WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON!"
Both brothers stared incredulously at the wrath-filled shelled beast before them. Neither knowing what to say. Both lost in their own shame and guilt. Michelangelo suddenly threw up his hands, "You know what? I'm not wasting my time anymore. Either you two figure this out or you can roam around in this – this purgatory forever." In response to their raised eye ridges he snapped, "Yes, guys I know what it means," Before returning to the topic of focus with new-found fervour, "I'm not going to let my fears, my jealousy, my anger, or anything else beat me. Besides, I have more important things to do like save a planet from a bunch of squishy pink brains and a walking kitchen utensil!"
Then without further ado, Michelangelo stormed over to the creek mumbling obscenities under his breath, but still positioned himself so that he would not miss a word of the exchange he hoped to hear – or so help him – in the immediate future. For several moments the two remaining turtles stood in awkward – and still slightly stunned – silence before Donatello finally broke the ice, "So uh…"
Michelangelo subtly repositioned himself so that he could see his brothers from the corner of his eye. Raphael still bore his customary frown. Understandably, Donatello kicked the earth nervously as he muttered, "We… Or rather… I kind of just overheard you and April."
Raphael's reaction was immediate and ferocious as he took a step into Donatello's space, "Then what are you doing here for? Go collect your prize."
A pained look appeared on the purple-clad turtle's face, "She's not a prize."
The red-clad turtle sneered, "Huh. Could have fooled me."
Michelangelo was almost shocked out of shell when Donatello stepped towards Raphael to place a hand on his shoulder, "And you're not a monster."
Apparently Raphael was just as shaken by his typically reserved brother's action for all he could do was frown stonily at Donatello, "…"
Causing said turtle to stutter on even more anxiously, "D-Don't look at me like that! It's the truth! I only told you that to get under your shell Raph. I just wanted April so badly… I… I didn't stop to think."
Finally the edges of Raphael's mouth flickered, "What? You not thinking? I must be dreaming."
Donatello had noticed Raphael's mood shift. Becoming calmer, while not losing an ounce of his sincerity, he continued, "I'm serious. I didn't stop to think that maybe April and I never hooked up because she never actually wanted me. And I definitely didn't stop and think that you would feel the same deep way about her as she felt about you."
Michelangelo's heart felt like screaming when Raphael looked dejectedly away, "Well good thing you didn't waste the brain space. She doesn't like me."
Then Donatello truly began to show the authenticity behind his actions through his words, "You know that's not true."
Raphael rolled his eyes, but even those had softened a little, "Oh and you do? Last time I checked you weren't much of an expert on April's feelings."
"That's because last time, I never bothered to look."
Both Raphael and Michelangelo needed a few seconds after that comment. "Wow. Blind and thoughtless." Raphael finally responded shaking his head in disbelief, "You're really slipping Donnie."
Now that Donatello had found his resolve, he was not to about to lose it to any distraction, humour or otherwise, "Come on Raph, just listen to me. Trust me. This time, I know. April never looked at me, Casey, or any of us the way she looks at you."
Raphael's voice was quietly sorrowful, "Because I'm a monster."
Without hesitation Donatello cut him off, "No. It's because she loves you."
Michelangelo was now fully gawking at his two older brothers without a drop of embarrassment as Raphael took his turn to stutter, "L-love?"
Donatello gave a small wistful grin, "Yeah Raph. In the kitchen yesterday, swimming, even when you were both spitting fire just now. She looks at you like… Like you're an angel. Like she'd never seen a sunrise, never felt winter's first snowflakes, never smelt autumn's crispness, until she met you."
Every turtle present was positively blushing at Donatello's attempt to sound poetic on his older brother's behalf. After a moment, Raphael managed to find his voice, "You serious?"
Michelangelo could not help but throw his piece in, "Dude, it's totally obvious to everyone but you."
Another melancholy look graced Donatello's features as he murmured, "And you look at her the same way."
The red-clad reptile cursed while pinching between his eyes, "Shit… I'm such an idiot."
Michelangelo – his frustration and worry washed away in the creek's current – sauntered over to his brothers, "Don't worry bro, it runs in the family."
Donatello's grin lost some of its sobriety, "It's true. I'm the biggest idiot of them all."
"No way Don. That title is definitely mine."
Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo all spun on the spot simultaneously shouting, "LEO!"
Michelangelo practically javelined himself into his eldest brother's arms, "You're back!"
The youngest turtle felt tears crest his eyes at the feeling of Leonardo's warm and very alive breath of his shoulder, "Yeah Mikey I'm back. I'm finally back."
A/N Oh the feels! :,)
I know we saw a bit of a different side to Michelangelo in this chapter, but I think it shows how he's grown through this experience. I know he's fictional, but I'm proud of him.
I also played with the format a bit to help keep the flow/keep the chapter's sheer density more manageable.
To my lovely reviewers:
Mr.E: Yeah… The "Love or Blood" verse is currently one filled with much drama and angst, but hopefully only the good kind ;) And yes, I'm afraid the end is near, but all good things must come to an end I suppose. Plus, although I've loved writing this fic, I would hate to ruin it by dragging it on unnecessarily.
PS. The LARP episode totally made my life! And although I have so many mixed feelings about "Slash and Destroy," Leo drinking tea definitely helped ease the sting.
PPS. It's on my profile page, but in my Strength 'verse the stories run in the following order: Pen Name, Strength, Fear, Homecoming, Commission, and finally Starry Night. Thanks for commenting on Commission! I definitely intend to write more heartfelt and sincere works. Methinks the chapter above is one such piece =)
Terri: I'm not sure why fanfiction did that… but on the plus side somehow it magically reappeared from the depths of cyber space! Yay!
I'm so glad this chapter is getting such good reception. The last few chapters have been filled with so much angst and drama, I was worried about it slipping into cheese-coated soap-opera-ness. Plus, the chapter hurt me so much to write... The feels! The dialogue – always my nemesis… -_- Still, April, like all of us, is not perfect, and it's not fair for Raph to always be the one pinned with the blame. Yes, he screws up royally much of the time, but arguments take two. Anger comes from unresolved/unmeant emotional needs, which both are definitely experiencing (well actually the entire household is to some extent or another).
kamilaloveboysloveyai: I know… :,(
majishan: *Sigh* That's the problem with fire…
ThePastReliesOnMemories: I know so much drama and angst, but hopefully only it's the good kind ;)
TheWinterMe: Awesome! I am glad to hear it because I spent sooooo much time on their dialogue. I must have rewrote it a billion times and had several word documents of basically the same script just reordered because I wanted to get it just right… Guess that makes me a sadist too – being so cruel to my characters and planning out their demise through angst-filled dialogue ;)
Komnenid: Ah yes Princess Peach… She did get in trouble an awful lot didn't she?
Oh dude… It's so hard because I want to let you guys know what will happen but I don't want to ruin it and then I want to submit the chapters sooner but I'm a perfectionist and compulsively obsess over each one so then I make you wait and the whole cycle repeats and repeats… -_- Also life happens. Apparently I cannot just write fanfiction all day… But soon! So very soon!
Guest: Bwahaha. I know I'm a jerk. At least a few of the loose ends have been tied up in the above chapter. Obviously Raphril is not one of them, but hey I gotta keep a few eggs until the end right?