Title: Validation
Summary: Never the perfect son or student or brother, Raphael does the unthinkable. Away from the lair and into an allegiance with Shredder, honor is replaced by his pronounced desire for validation.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership ties to anything cool or wealth-inducing. Just a non-profiting fan lookin' to write some fanfiction.
SPECIAL THANKS TO! Bella13blue, my own personal Nemesis! (Because everybody needs one.) MY Nemesis has been a good friend; she's a great soundboard and has been kind enough to encourage and offer suggestions on my work for this fic.
Author's Notes: Just wanna give a big THANK YOU to all my readers and reviewers!
Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.
...
CH5
The ice inside him had melted. That was the only explanation for how wet he was. He broke out into a cold sweat as his restless body tossed and turned on the hard floor. The sheen of sweat collected grains of sand as he twisted and kicked in his state of unconsciousness, battling an unseen enemy as a terrifying dream rocked him from the inside out.
...
[Dream Sequence]
It was dark. An endless void. Even the air seemed black, if possible. And yet, there was a light. The spotlight shown from above, an unknown source; it flooded around the red-banded turtle and threatened to steal precious breath from his lungs. The light terrified him, but he steeled himself a brave face and refused to show weakness or fear. Yet, as his breath depleted, his only option was to gulp in heaps of the black tainted atmosphere. That atmosphere, too dense and black to be any kind of oxygen, felt thick as it entered his body.
He did his best to stifle his fright, taking a rough stumble and trying to elude the light that poured from above, but when he moved, so did the light. It followed him, refusing to let him go.
His mind told him to run, to hide, to take refuge in the shadows, but no matter how he dodged or ran or floundered about, the light remained fully on him. Worse yet, when his air ran out, he could feel his lungs squeezing, deflated like a balloon and refusing to take in anything more- not that there seemed to be any air for him to inhale.
The lack of oxygen made him dizzy. His mind grew fuzzy.
A voice reached his ears.
"Take pride in your strength, Raphael. In a world that brands you an outcast and a freak, it is all you have."
Just as the words began to sink in, that painful ray of light turned into liquid around Raphael. Gone was the initial source of light and, surrounding the turtle's feet, was this impossibly bright puddle. He could feel the liquid squelch around his feet when he moved. He tried to step out of the puddle, but it only stretched wider, almost mocking him. He growled in response, regretting the action when his air-tight throat constricted painfully.
He looked around, frantic, desperate for help. Even in the infinite realm of darkness, he could make out the presence of five others. His heart raced as his mind worked to process who was there.
A hundred possibilities flashed in his mind's eye, but he quelled his worries when the brightness of the puddle seemed to illuminate three colored masks.
Blue.
Purple.
Orange.
Three out of five interlopers were identified and promptly ignored -decidedly safe and non-threatening- as Raphael focused with everything in him, trying to discern the other two beings who were present.
He felt terribly exposed in this puddle of light, this liquid beacon. And, knowing that strangers were among the shadows, watching him, he began to relent his panic. His body quivered. He sorely missed the ability to breathe.
He reached for his sais, just in case, only to find that they weren't in his belt.
And- fuck, wait! A strange realization cut through the horrible situation. The puddle of light, it seemed higher, as if it had risen. Yet it remained in place. He looked down at it, the light nearly blinding, like looking into the sun and burning his retinas. And yet he stared, almost mesmerized, trying to figure out what about the puddle had changed.
Despite the unidentified persons nearby that remained cloaked in darkness, this horrific glowing liquid gripped and held his attention.
And then, it happened. So slight that he almost could have imagined it... but it HAD happened, right before his eyes as if to forsake his denial. The puddle did not rise; instead, he SANK.
At first, it was just an inch or so, but as the seconds ticked away, he found that the liquid was getting higher- no! He was getting lower! Rather than an annoying brightness that sloshed around his feet, it was up to his calves and splashing when he moved too briskly.
He tried to lift his legs, to step out, but his limbs suddenly felt too heavy to move. He opened his mouth to scream, to cry out in frustration, to yell for help from the brothers he knew were there, but nothing came out. No air, no sound, nothing.
His eyes felt wet, but he refused to admit that he was capable of crying. He just looked around, head whipping back and forth so fast that his bandana tails slapped his face. He needed help, but it wouldn't come, and he couldn't ask.
Suddenly, the lighted puddle grew brighter, just enough to illuminate a bit more of his surroundings, and he could make out the dingy fabric of a familiar robe and, peeking out from that robe was a long tail. A rat's tail.
Raphael couldn't fathom a response to give, not that he would be physically able to give one anyways.
His brothers and father remained bathed in darkness, watching him struggle, watching him become devoured by an impossible puddle of light.
Bowing his head, he felt hope leaving him. Hope, if he had it to begin with, was dying and taking any form of happiness with it. He awaited emptiness. But, it didn't come.
He was robbed of despair the moment a series of pained cries met his ear slits; he recognized each of the cries very distinctly.
The aged gasp of Splinter.
The reluctant grunt of Leonardo.
The surprised shout of Donatello.
And finally, the pained wail of Michelangelo.
Part of Raphael wanted nothing more than to take their pains away, but another part of him believed that they deserved it. After all, they didn't lift a finger to help him in his time of need. Even now, the strange puddle was sucking him in, the water up to his waist, and no one even seemed to notice or care.
He closed his eyes tightly, his head heavy and heart heavier.
Just when he decided to let them go and accept his own fate as well, he caught the sound of a blade slicing through the air. His eyes snapped open with lightning speed, and he shouted the first thing that came to mind.
"Leeooooooooo!"
Surprised by the context of his shout, but even more surprised by the fact that he'd been able to yell at all, his eyes searched the darkness for his blue-masked brother. He looked for the active katana blades that might follow.
But he found neither.
Leo was gone. There was no katana. None of his brothers seemed present anymore, nor was his father.
Instead, like leaves in the wind, three tattered masks fluttered into focus before evaporating altogether right before Raph's eyes. He groaned at the abstract implication, reaching out and clumsily grasping imaginary particles that might have been left behind.
Frustration feasted on him as he dropped his arms to his sides and felt bright wetness lick at his skin.
Some quiet voice in the back of Raphael's mind rattled a warning, telling him that there had been five other beings present, and only four were accounted for. With his family missing, someone else might still be there.
He shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his mind and retain focus, but by that point, the puddle's liquid light was up to his chest, one arm trapped under water and the other still free and held high as if trying reach for help.
Help that would never come. Help that he couldn't ask for. Help that didn't exist in his world.
He missed the safety of shadows. He never hated light so much in his life. He inwardly cursed the sun for simply existing, foolishness be damned.
Then, as if in answer to an unasked prayer, he heard his own name, spoken calmly in a way that seemed to give him breath once more. His lungs took full advantage and hope had all but returned, and it all started with a single word.
"Raphael," a filtered voice had called from the shadows. A familiar voice. An enemy's voice.
Raphael didn't have time to react, caught up in simply breathing once more; the puddle opened up wider and instead of sinking, he seemed to just drop into a large chasm of light, stopping only when a five-fingered hand closed around his wrist and held firm.
He dangled helplessly, eyes wide, body being beckoned by a blindingly bright force he could hardly fathom. Then, looking up to his savior, he caught the gleam of sharp shiny metal...
[End Dream Sequence]
...
Raphael awoke with a startled scream, coated in sweat, body trembling. He was soaked. Worse yet, as he sat there panting and gasping for breath, he looked down to see that sweat wasn't the only liquid he was coated in. A translucent yellow ran down his legs and under his shell, and one of his hands rested suspiciously in a bowl of warm water.
Shaking violently, an agonizing groan ripped through him as he processed everything all at once, coming to a horrifying conclusion.
In his peripheral vision, he detected motion, the color green, and a flash of orange.
"Uh oh! Raphie had an accident! Haha!"
"Miiiikeeeeey!"
...
[Well, THAT happened. Next chapter should be up soon.]