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Chapter 05
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Three weeks.
Raphael was looking at himself in the mirror. It's all my fault. Leo was right, I fucked up and now… It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It should've been him, it just wasn't right.
He had run the scenario in his mind before; they all had, of course. Living the sort of lives that they did, it was bound to have crossed their minds at some point. But he'd never been prepared for this, always envisioning that it would be himself dead or captured, not the other way around. I neva' shoulda' called for 'em. I didn't know. It wasn't that many Foot, after all. He just figured they'd be able to wipe them out like they always did.
Dragging himself into the kitchen, he couldn't remember ever being so tired. The weeks had crawled by, every day and night searching, searching… every day he felt on the brink of collapse, but still managed to keep going somehow. He and Leo hardly ever spoke a word. What words were there to say? Both knew the other's mind. But they were getting nowhere – no leads, nothing. So much time had passed, they were going to be too late, where were they… WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY…
He threw the table over, dishes smashing to the floor. He swept everything off the counter, smashing the coffee pot against the wall, glass flying everywhere. Grabbing the chair, he smashed it against the floor until it exploded into a thousand pieces. He couldn't stop. Grabbing a cupboard door, he ripped it clean off of its hinges, throwing it against the wall. Screaming in rage, he pounded his fists through the wall, oblivious of the blood pouring down his hands. As he came to, he was aware that someone had been yelling, that hands were grabbing him. He collapsed on the floor.
"Raph, stop!" He looked up. Leo's eyes were so hollow, so defeated. The fearless leader was afraid.
"Why them, Leo? Donnie can't even kill, and Mikey… Mikey…" he broke down. Leo knew what he was getting at and though the same thing ate away at him, it broke his heart to hear Raph say it. Donatello, shy, quiet and intelligent; Michelangelo the playful goofball… it just wasn't right. Better it were him or Raphael in their places. Leo couldn't remember ever seeing Raphael sob like this, not since they were little.
"I'm sorry Raph… I'm so sorry…"
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The hardest part for Leo was breaking the news to Master Splinter. He and Raphael went into the old rat's room together.
"Master." Leo's voice was grave, his body language undeniable. Something bad had happened.
Splinter opened his eyes and only saw two sons before him. "My sons, what is wrong?"
He could still see the pained expression on his father's face. It was too much to bear. I'm sorry father, it was all my fault, he heard his own words in his head, haunting him now. I couldn't protect them.
Raphael had been right. Some leader he was. He'd let his anger at Raph cloud his judgment and now who knew what horrors his two brothers were suffering for it, if they were even still alive. It had been three weeks now since his brothers were lost and they were no closer to finding them.
Leonardo tried to clear his mind. Have to try and reach them, need some clue to where they might be, he thought. He had to keep reaching out, searching with his mind. He should've been using this brief time at home to get some sleep; him and Raphael had been topside nearly constantly, looking for anything that might lead them to their missing brothers.
When he wasn't out patrolling the city with his remaining brother, he spent nearly every waking minute in his room, in this same position. His body was sore and tired, his mind even more so. But it doesn't matter. Have to ignore it. Have to keep trying.
His breathing rhythmic, his body still, Leonardo looked like a statue. His mind, body and soul, all connected; all had become water: fluid, calm, flowing. He could feel his heart beating, his chest expanding with each deep breath, the blood moving through his veins. He focused all of his energy outwards towards the two missing turtles.
Something. A sound.
Far away, it sounded like yelling. He pushed, straining to keep his concentration. The sound was getting louder. An odd sensation began to creep over Leonardo. An image started to form, someone in white, bent over the top of him. And pain. Oh god, so much pain… so much fear. It hit him so fast, he was completely unprepared for it, yet somehow managed to hold onto the image. Leo felt as if his heart was going to burst in his chest. The yelling was tortured screaming now, his head was exploding with the sound.
Michelangelo was screaming. It was the worst thing Leonardo had ever heard in his life. Only one thought was present, though he didn't know if it was his own or not: Please make it stop.
His eyes snapped open, he was gasping for breath. He could still hear the echoes of Mike's wailing reverberating in his brain. As he sat panting, silent tears fell down the eldest turtle's cheeks.
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