All he wanted to do was sit up.
After getting up on his own the day before, despite the panic it caused, he felt like lying on his back all morning would have been a cheat. A step back.
Sitting up wouldn't inspire anyone's rage, hopefully, and it would put him in a good spot to talk to everyone who'd be lined up out his door to yell at him for being stupid.
But he went to plant his foot up the mattress to help scoot himself up, and his foot wouldn't move.
For a moment he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. His brow furrowed, and he tried again.
Nothing. Not the slightest twitch.
He lifted his head and gingerly propped himself up on his elbows. His gut gave a twinge, and he realized he was overdue for one of Don's dosings of pain meds.
But the thought of pills hit him like a paper airplane, leaving hardly a sensation. Instead his focus was on the sheets covering him, the still shape of his legs.
Maybe if he was watching, his body would behave. He stared at his foot through the sheet, and willed it to rise.
Nothing happened.
Heat rose from his gut into his throat. He swallowed it down and dropped back onto the pillow.
Okay.
This wasn't happening. He was still asleep. That's all it was. He was having fucked up dreams brought on by guilt and stress. And beer.
Beer. Of course. Alcohol and pain pills mixing. That was supposed to do weird things to people.
He lifted his head again and glared at the sheet.
"Up." It came out rough, as if he hadn't used his voice in days.
Nothing.
His stomach bubbled up, hot and sick.
Okay, if he couldn't lift his foot, he could wiggle his frigging toes at least.
The sheet stayed mockingly still.
Jesus.
Raph swallowed and pushed himself up on one elbow. Ignoring the twist of pain in his stomach he reached down and lay his hand on his leg.
Don had told him once that people had a five-stage reaction to bad news. The first was denial. He'd handled that part.
Numbers two through five must have been panic, because that's exactly what he jumped to and where he stayed.
"Don?"
He had to clear his throat against the gravel. "Don?"
Leo's door was cracked open, and from beyond there was silence.
"Don?" He licked his lips and dropped back on his back. "Don? Don!"
Sounds outside. Footsteps. Too slow.
"Don!" It sliced into his throat, but he shouted even louder. "DON!"
This time the footsteps came towards him fast. Leo's door pushed open.
It was Mike. "Raph?" His eyes were huge, scared. But for some reason when he saw Raph there he grinned. "Raph!"
"Where's Don?" Raph couldn't say hi, couldn't wonder why Mike was happy to see him up rather than pissed and petulant. "Don?" He shouted again, trying to push himself up. "Don!"
"Hey, Raph, relax! You're gonna hurt yourself!" Mike moved to the bed.
The door opened again and there, finally, was Don. "Raph?"
"Don."
Don moved in, nudging past Mike. "Lay back." He spoke tersely, though his voice was gentle. His doctor voice - Raph had come to know it well.
Raph gripped his arm. "Don."
"Hey. Good to see you awake again." Don sat at the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
Raph swallowed, wanting to just say Don's name again until the problem went away. "Don…" But he blinked. "Awake again? I was just…" Another sick feeling gripped him,
Don seemed to read it in his eyes. He nodded. "You've been unconscious for two days."
Jesus. Raph's breathing was getting faster. Two days out of it. The sheets around his legs wouldn't move.
Jesus.
He sank back, hand falling limp off Don's arm.
"It's not…" Don hesitated. His eyes were as gentle as his voice. "Well, I won't lie. It was serious and it scared us a little."
That's why Mike was glad to see him up. Raph looked over Don's shoulder at Mikey and shut his eyes. "Shit."
"Yeah, kinda." Don touched his arm. "How are you feeling?"
Raph swallowed. "I can't…" Saying it made it real. Ignore it and it would go away. He lay there, gripping the sheets on either side of his useless body. "Donnie…"
"Raph?" Don's voice was sharper then. "Is something wrong?"
When he answered he almost didn't recognized the weak, pinched version of his voice that came out. "I can't feel my legs."
Seconds ticked by. Raph kept his eyes screwed shut but could almost feel Don and Mike exchanging looks.
Don answered slowly. "Okay, be very specific with me here, Raph. You mean you can't move them?"
"I can't feel them." He pried a fist from the sheets and thumped it against his thigh. "I can't…there's nothing…" He hit himself again.
"Okay." Don took hold of his arm.
Raph opened his eyes and stared at him.
Don seemed lost in thought. His brow was furrowed. He absently took hold of Raph's hand and peeled his fingers out of the tight fist.
"Donnie?" Raph swallowed.
"Okay." Don nodded suddenly. "Okay. There are a few things it could be."
Raph looked past Don at Mike, at the horrified look on his face. He looked away again fast. Too late.
"How do you feel otherwise? How's this?" Don's hand lay feather-soft against Raph's bandaged midsection.
"Doesn't feel worse. I don't know. I'm kind of distracted."
Don stood up, dropping Raph's hand. "It might be a pinched nerve, or..." He looked down at Raph, almost clinical in his gaze. "I suppose you might be paralyzed."
Raph stared at him.
"You had to get up." Mike spoke suddenly, his voice hoarse. "You just had to ignore everyone and care about yourself and get up and move around. You knew. You knew this would happen."
"Mikey." Raph looked past Don. "No. I..."
Mike turned and walked out of the room.
Raph shut his eyes. "Donnie, please."
"Well. This isn't a hospital, Raph. I can't exactly x-ray you and see what's up. A pinched nerve could leave you numb for a while."
"What's a while?"
"An hour. A year." Don shrugged.
Raph stared at him, at the impersonal look on his face. "Donnie, come on. I'm not a fucking medical chart on a web site."
"I know that." Don looked over his shoulder at the door.
Raph frowned, and then he realized.
Don agreed with Mikey. He might as well have come out and told Raph that whatever this was it was his own fault, tough luck, sorry you're such an asshole, Raph.
"Let me look some things up." Don moved to the door.
Raph shut his eyes, remembering Leo's words. All the work Don did. All the things he had to do that had to be hell for Donnie. All the worrying, the research. The doubt. What Raph said last night…three nights ago…hadn't been enough. Don resented what he did, so much that he couldn't even work up a little sympathy now.
No. That was ridiculous. Don was Don, whether he was ticked off or not. Don didn't not care about things. It wasn't who he was.
Maybe he was just overtaxed. Maybe Raph had made him worry so much that he'd blown some kind of fuse and had gone blank.
Whatever it was, Raph watched him walk out the door and felt like Mike was right. This shit was all his own fault. He hadn't listened. He was who he was - stubborn, arrogant. Stupid.
Fuck, he'd barked those same words like a brag to Leo and Don the other night. I am who I am, and I would rather die than not be able to move around. I'd rather die than listen to advice or be a little patient, or…
And hell, he'd already broken his vow. If he'd been there for two days he must've pissed himself again.
Raph shut his eyes and brought his hands to his face. His fingers shook.
He hadn't won any battles walking around. He'd sabotaged the fight.
Made Don cry. Made Don, the gentlest fucking creature on the entire fucking planet, shed tears. Made Mike cry and worry and get so angry that he walked away from Raph when he needed help. Mike, who would never walk away from anyone.
Fucked Leo up how many fucking times through the years. And now, Leo hanging around because…
Raph laughed to himself, high and desperate. Who knew why Leo was doing what he was?
"Raph?"
Speak of the fucking devil.
Raph's hands slipped from his face to his bandaged gut. He opened his eyes and looked over at Leo.
Leo moved to the bed, fear in his eyes. "Are you alright?"
Raph shook his head. He told himself - Leo was worried. That didn't deserve whatever smart-assed response Raph would normally make.
"Why do you care?" His voice was dull when he finally spoke.
Leo hesitated.
"Really. Tell me. Why?"
"You know why."
"No." Raph swallowed. "And whatever answer I tell myself it is, it's not."
Leo moved to the bed, sitting in the spot Don had abandoned. "Why would you think that?"
Raph let out a breath. "You're my brother. You're obligated to care."
"No." Leo reached out and touched his hand.
Raph jerked away. "Stop it."
Leo froze, his hand in the air. He pulled it back after a wounded moment. "Raph, I've told you."
"No you haven't. And that's the problem."
Leo blinked.
Raph swallowed. "Since I woke up and you started this…this thing with me, you've never once told me how you feel. And I know you, Leo. You never shut up about how you feel. So that must mean something."
Leo's brow furrowed. "That's not true."
"Yes it is." Raph brought his hand up to his face, shielding his eyes. "You know what you said? You said that I love you. You told me how I felt, not how you felt. You've spent all this time trying to convince me of how I feel about you, not the other way around."
There was silence. Raph peeled his hand back after a few moments and took in his brother's face.
Leo was looking out over him at the wall, thoughtful. Probably replaying every conversation they'd had since the start. Running through his own words. No doubt he remembered most of it.
Raph let out a breath and dropped his head to the side, away from Leo. "Just go. I can't deal with this right now."
"Raph."
He didn't answer. He stared at the wall.
Leo's weight lifted off the bed. After a moment the door shut.
He was alone again.
It was better. Alone he didn't do any harm.
There were four people in the world he called family. He had struck out at every one of them. He had hurt them all, in ways he would have killed anyone else for.
This was his reward. He was on his back and half his body was gone. Maybe an hour, maybe a year. Maybe forever. No way to know.
And he had no idea how to react to it. His normal way of reacting had caused all this. The pain, the injury. His brothers' tears. Who he was, this stubborn asshole who somehow wasn't happy with a loving family and legs that worked, had taken everything from him.
He felt, sudden and sharply, like Don. Like he had blown out a fuse, and was now blank. He had no idea how to feel, so he lay there feeling nothing.
Maybe that was defeat.
He had been beaten. Completely. Beaten by a bullet, his brothers, his body. His own mind. Leo's love and Don's worry and Mike's anger. If they all hated him, he had earned it. He had fought for their hatred as fiercely as he ever fought for anything.
The funniest part of it was, he didn't realize what he was fighting until he won.
He loved Leo. Of course he did. He had since he was too young to realize what it was he felt. He loved Leo while he was with Mikey. Loved Mike too, of course. Loved Don.
Hated himself.
The door opened, a slow creak that drew his reluctant gaze.
Splinter looked in, calm. Tea steamed from a mug in his hand.
Raph swallowed. Time to lose the last of them.
Splinter moved in, walking in a slow shuffle. He knew, then. He only moved like he was an old man when he was weighed down by news or fear. Or both.
He came in and reached the bed and stretched out the mug of tea. "You will need your strength," he said, his voice steady. Always steady.
Raph reached for the mug, but his fingers closed around Splinter's wrist. Instead of taking he tugged, and pulled himself up awkwardly, and the tea must have spilled but on his legs where he couldn't feel it.
He couldn't feel it, but he could feel Splinter's arms coming around him, and Splinter's furred chest against his cheek. He felt the jarring shake of sobs, the unfamiliar heat of tears on his face. He heard his own voice, clogged and keening.
Splinter didn't leave him.