A/N: Hey everybody! New chapter! I hope I did okay, and feedback is very much appreciated XD

I OWN NOTHING!

Enjoy!

Chapter 4

As it turned out, little purple was just as talkative and techno-babbly as his own Donnie, if not more so, and it'd been a little difficult for Raphael to understand exactly what he was saying half the time. But from what he did manage to get, it was that the portal the freaky aliens used to travel between dimensions was powered by some kind of strange 'energy crystal', which lost its power after forty-eight hours of extensive use.

If the aliens were using that portal to transport their massive armies to this dimension for a full-scale invasion – at least, that's what little purple had thought their ultimate goal was – then there wouldn't be much time until the machine ran out of energy completely, leaving the little ones trapped here forever…or worse.

So, after they'd finally explained the whole 'weird dimensional crap' situation to April, she'd scoured the city along with Vern for any sign of the creatures. Sure enough, a few hours passed before they'd finally come across something unusual; four, scarily identical men dressed in business suits guarding the entrance to an old warehouse on Delancey Street.

With that, they'd followed her lead to the old warehouse, all eight of them bounding across the rooftops of the city with the setting of the sun behind the towering skyscrapers. Once they'd secured the outer perimeter and finally moved in from the rooftop, they'd found that the Kraang had stationed their large portable portal device right in the center of the room for all to see – the stupid things weren't exactly the best at keeping things hidden, that was for sure.

To their relief, for the time being, the machine had been switched off, meaning that they still had a little bit of time left before it was drained of power completely.

The plan to get the portal had been simple. Get in, destroy the robots, find the other version of Splinter, grab the portal thing, and get out. And it'd gone pretty well at first, with the eight of them combined ploughing through the robots like measly bugs on a windshield. And Raphael had found it surprisingly fun; who would've thought that crushing alien robots could be so exhilarating?

Then little orange had gotten shot.

It all happened so fast. One minute, the kid was dancing around the Kraang, shouting that ridiculous catchphrase at the top of his lungs as he swung his nunchaku faster than the eye could see. The next, there was a blast of purple light, a choked cry of pain, before the kid collapsed to the floor, blood pooling from the wound as he lay there, motionless…

The reaction had been instantaneous. The remaining three little ones had whipped their heads around at the sound of their brother's cry, their eyes widened and full of unparalleled horror.

"MIKEY!"

Ultimately, with a man down, with a wound that could be fatal, and the Kraang regrouping and ganging up on them with their blasters set to kill, they'd had no choice but to retreat, without the portal, and without the other Splinter. The mission had been a total failure. And worse, one of the little guys had gotten hurt. Really hurt.

Now, they were back at the lair, which had quickly turned into a ghost town with the oppressing silence that lingered like a dark cloud over their heads. They'd managed to save little orange, thank god. He'd been shot in the shoulder, but nothing vital had been torn or burnt, and it was thanks to Splinter and both Donnies' that he'd made it in one piece.

Now, he was on Michelangelo's bed, completely knocked out for the next two hours thanks to the pain meds Donatello had doused him with. His right shoulder was tightly wrapped up in layers of bandages, which would make it difficult for him to move properly when he woke up. But it was for his own good; the kid was just as bouncy as his Mikey, and moving around would only aggravate the wound. Even if it meant the little guy would end up irritated, feeling trapped with being unable to move about as much as he liked, at least he'd still be breathing…

Little blue was lying down on the bed beside him, the large blanket draped over them both. His hand was grasping his younger brothers' uninjured one as tight as he dared, and though his eyes were closed, and his face seemingly at peace, it was clear that he was anything but sleeping. He was on guard, ready in case his brothers needed him in any way, to protect them even in the safety of the lair…Raphael mused that it was just something no Leonardo could help but do when it came to the younger brothers.

Little purple had passed out on the couch a little while after they'd set little orange down. Michelangelo had covered him with one of the spare blankets, and had pillowed his head on his lap, gently patting the back of his shell as he slept, as if to comfort him. Leonardo was with Donatello in his little 'command center', planning their next move, and Splinter had gone into the dojo to meditate after clearing away the medical supplies.

However, as Raphael looked around the lair, he saw no trace of his other self. He could've sworn he'd seen him leaning against the wall or something a few minutes ago, glaring at the floor with his arms crossed over his chest, fists trembling and teeth grinding…

"Hey, where's the little hot-head?" he asked no one in particular as he continued to look around the main room, but still saw no sign of him. He knew the little ones were quiet, but he hadn't thought they were quiet enough to escape even Splinter's detection. Damn. Sneaky little buggers were sneaky.

"Uh, I think he went into the tunnels or something just a few minutes ago, I think," Michelangelo offered, his voice low so that he didn't wake the sleeping little purple on his lap.

Raphael raised a non-existent brow. "Why?"

Michelangelo shrugged one shoulder. "He's you, dude," he said, looking back down at little purple as he resumed the gentle petting. "Nobody can know yourself better than you do."

Blinking hard, Raphael stared at his younger brother, startled into silence at his comment, though his little brother didn't seem to notice. He never dreamed he'd ever admit it, but Michelangelo was probably right…in a weird 'Mikey' kind of way. And now that Raphael thought about it, he did know why his shorter self had gone off the way he had.

Because his little brother had gotten hurt…and he hadn't been able to do anything to stop it.

It didn't take long for Raphael to find him. Deeper into the maze of tunnels not far from the lair, he was punching a wall, his green eyes ablaze with fury. He hadn't noticed that the looming hulk of his other self was staring at him from the mouth of the tunnel, or the fact that his knuckles were bleeding, leaving bright red stains splattered across the brickwork…or the fact that there were hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

Knowing that he wouldn't stop until he broke every bone in his hands, Raphael let out a huff before he finally stepped in and grabbed the kids' shoulder. Instantly, the kid whirled around with a growl that rivaled a rabid dog's, and glared up at him fiercely, slapping his hand off his shoulder. He didn't move to wipe the tears away, nor did he avert his fiery emerald gaze away in shame.

Raphael couldn't blame him for his attitude. They'd been edging around each other since the day they'd shown up, though neither of them had any real idea as to why.

But now, it was about time they put whatever issues they had against each other to rest.

Folding his arms across his broad chest, Raphael regarded his shorter self solemnly. There were no hard glares or any half-assed snarky remarks exchanged between them as they stood there, not this time. Instead, silence endured, broken only by the noise of subway trains and car horns on the surface world…and the breaths of exhaustion, pain, and anger that hissed through little red's clenched teeth.

It was obvious neither of them wanted to speak first to break the tension; neither of them had ever been all that good with words. And there was no way Raphael could tell him that what had happened to his little brother that night hadn't been his fault, that he wasn't to blame, that little orange was going to be alright, that they would find their master and get back home together before time ran out. He was too ridden with the guilt to listen to any of that mushy crap.

However, if he couldn't tell him, he'd just have to show him, the only way both of them really knew how.

Uncrossing his arms, Raphael took a step towards his other self. And ignoring the guarded stance the little guy took at his movement, he reached out and grasped his shoulder again, before pulling him to his chest. Little red stiffened, but didn't push him away. He just stood there, eyes wide and unbelieving.

A part of Raphael wanted to laugh. Here he was, comforting himself in the weirdest, most awkward way he could've ever imagined. Any other day, if a member of his family was feeling downcast for whatever reason, a pat on the shoulder or a rough noogie would've sufficed. Raphael just wasn't the hugging type. But this…this was a little different.

Closing his eyes, and tightening his grip on the little one's shoulder, Raphael let out a soft breath, still not quite believing that he was really doing this.

"It'll be okay," he said simply. It was the only way he knew how to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't be blaming himself. That everything was going to be okay…

He heard little red's breath hitch brokenly. Then he hesitantly brought up a bloodied hand, and laid it atop the larger hand that braced his shoulder, his forehead resting against Raphael's chest. No more words were exchanged between the two as they stood there, with only each other and the silence of the sewer tunnels as their company for what felt like an eternity.

Until…

"Don't punch that wall anymore, got it? That's my wall."

That got a wry snort out of little red, before he finally pulled away and looked up at him with a lopsided grin that he'd often seen in the mirror. "Jeez, you're a bigger priss than my Leo, and that's saying somethin'," little red snickered, finally wiping away the tears with the back of his bloodstained hand before folding his arms, looking as though everything that'd just happened hadn't just happened. "What's next? You gonna tell me that you knitted the poncho Splinter's wearing or something?" he chuckled.

Raphael said nothing, his eyes shifting to the side. Whilst his goal to break the tension had worked – after wondering if Mikey's antics were starting to rub off on him or something – now, he felt just as awkward as before.

Little red gawked at him, arms falling to his side limply. "For real?"

Raphael rolled his eyes, still refusing to look down at his other self. "Yeah, I knit, so what? You got a problem with that, shrimp?" he growled.

"What? No, no way dude. I just thought I was the only 'Raph' that did that kinda thing."

Raphael snapped his eyes back down at his shorter self. "…say what now?"

Five minutes later, the two of them had returned to the lair, and after wrapping up little red's bloodied knuckles – and ignoring the worried questions of Donatello at the sight of him – they were sat side by side on the floor in front of the occupied couch, diligently knitting away at a new blanket in a comfortable, companionable silence.

As they worked, Raphael couldn't help but smile to himself. Now this was something that both of them could do, not just to appease themselves or find a different outlet for their guilt, their rage, their hatred, but also as a means of…well, for lack of a better term, bonding.

And best of all, no half-assed or sappy words of comfort were needed for them to feel at ease.

A/N: Bonding over knitting XD. Oh Raphie :3

I hope you enjoyed that, and more are on the way!