I have a few new chapters written. Hopefully I can come up with more before I run out and leave this fic for another six years! X.x

Thank you to my reviewers!

Chapter 6

Under normal circumstances, the feeling of several tiny cuts yawning with every movement of his legs would have pissed him off.

Now, however, it simply added to the feeling of the moment as he gave up the spinning, spiraling grace of Ninjitsu and settled for raining the bag with punches. Sweat gathered on his forehead, slid down and burned his eyes. His breathing at first matched the tempo of his fists, then dissolved to ragged gasps as he pushed the limit of his stamina.

He hadn't gotten any sleep the past few nights, which was different from the little sleep he had been running on before. He couldn't get anything down to his stomach before he got these awful pains. Then he would vomit, and the lack of sugar in his blood would cause the tips of his fingers to tremble when he stretched them out.

With his hands balled to fists, he needn't worry about the annoying shakes. However, he couldn't ignore the jelly-like quality his body was taking on. Every once in a while a section of his vision would suddenly go missing, blur beyond recognition or just stand out like a black splotch.

Some radar in the back of his head told him he wasn't alone. The presence bothered him, and so he ignored the warnings of his body and picked up the pace in an attempt to block his brother out.

"You've been in here for hours." Mike's still-nasally voice rose above the beating tempo, but was barely audible over the swishing sound of blood in Raph's ears.

The hothead's only answer was to give a growl deep in his throat which cracked at the end. Baring his teeth and snarling at the display of weakness, he reared for a roundhouse kick- but instead slipped and fell to the floor.

His breath wheezed out on impact, heart beating against the inside of his plastron as he leaned forward to spit bile on the floor.

He didn't even realize he was still leaning, that the arm supporting him was going limp, until just before he blacked out and hit the floor.

Mike grumbled something unintelligible then slammed the wooden spoon back in the pot before saying, "I don't know why they leave me here with you." All but throwing the bowl of steaming pasta at his older brother, the orange-masked turtle sat heavily across the table from him.

That set the fire burning in Raph's chest again. With some effort, he managed to keep his gaze down, shoveling a mouthful in to his gob before replying: "I don' needa babysitter."

"Right. I can just go out to wherever I want, knowing you'll be square. You were only pretending to pass out."

"As though you have anywhere to go if you even wanted to leave." He rolled his eyes up lazily. Mike was looking at him sharply.

"You know, you're way more of a dick than you used to be, which is saying something."

Raph shrugged, still finding a way to maintain indifference. He wanted to hit Mike, badly. But he had already done enough for today… the deep greenish-blue hue on his brother's face proved that one.

"You don't exactly smell like roses either." He stabbed the air with his fork, pointing across the table. "The stupid shit you spew now is way less funny than it used to be."

"Probably 'cause I'm not trying." He shifted in his seat, turning to that he was facing off to the side. "There's nothing funny in this place anymore."

Raph's only response was to grunt and return to his food. He chewed slowly, arm out around his bowl, leaning over it like a protective predator. So far, so good with the stomach pains. And he was finding he was actually hungry.

"I messed your face up good, huh?"

Mikey sucked his teeth. "I didn't know you had books in your room."

Raph sighed. "You used to forgive me a lot faster."

"You used to make me bleed less."

Silence. Raph shoved the bowl to the center of the table, sending it skittering a couple of inches. Taking a deep breath, he looked at his hands. "You're still taking this Splinter stuff hard."

Mike chuckled, a bitter sound. "Loss isn't something you can just get over… you never get over it. You just get through it. And don't talk to me about who is taking what hard."

"What? At least I always react the same way to stress."

"Right. Get drunk, punch people. It's a package deal with you. Same old, no deviations at all."

"You're acting more different than me." Raph felt determined to make this argument. His fists clenched, and unclenched. "It only takes a little thing to set you off screamin', which is supposed to be my job. You never used to be like that."

"Excuse me for acknowledging a traumatic experience."

"Teh. Just because you feel the need to fall down every five seconds and bawl like a baby in the middle of the damn hall doesn't mean I don't fail to acknowledge shit."

"Thanks for the comfort, bro."

"Thanks for the sore ass."

"What?"

"The only reason I fell was because I tripped."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Oh, my fault, Raph."

They sat for a moment, feeling the heat of the childish argument.

"If my ass didn't hurt so bad, I'd probably go out tonight."

Mike snorted. "And what, get a few more caps popped in your butt instead? Or would you just faint again and make an easier target?"

"Nobody'd care."

Mike rubbed his face, voice muffled by his hand. "Raph… fuck you."

"Casey'd care. But the rest of you assholes…" Raph stopped suddenly. He grunted and reached up to massage his temples. "'Nother friggin' headache."

He didn't notice when something flitted across his brother's face. Mike was still angry, but something had changed, had entered his mind. "Yeah, Case would care."

"Whatever… maybe I'll hit him up tomorrow or something." He watched his brother get up and begin gathering the dishes. "I need to get out of this hellhole."

The water came on, turned hot. Mike sighed. "Raph, look. You're not getting enough sleep, so you're more apt to slip up. You really shouldn't go out."

"I can take care of myself, thanks."

"Right." Dishes clanked as they were thrown carelessly in the 'clean' side of the double-sink, sud bubbles clinging to the rims. "And even though you can take care of yourself, you worry like hell about everyone else, just like me."

"Whatever."

"I know you're just as worried about Leo and Don being out as I am."

"No, you're paranoid."

"If you weren't so worried, you'd be out, not home waiting."

"If I was out instead of being home making sure you didn't have a heart attack, you'd be going psychotic right now texting all of us just for a damn answer." The door alarm went off. "Look, there's one of them now."

Mike turned the water off and turned, scoffing. "Oh, so now you're trying to say that home because of me?" His eyes darted through the kitchen doorway, taking in the sight of Leonardo moving silently through the living area.

"Not just because, but I bet you're a little less of a crybaby now that I am here."

He held the orange masked turtle's gaze for a moment. Something internal seemed to click, and the remnants of anger melted from Mike's face.

"You know, Raph… I really wish you were a crybaby too. That way maybe at least you'd let us help you." Throwing the dishtowel across the back of the chair, he walked out. "And Casey would've cared if you get hurt, but there are, you know, other people around to care, too."