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 the TMNT fandom or anything else I might reference. Credit to those who do.
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: Word of caution. I do not consider it a typo for me to replace words like DREAMED and LEAPED with DREAMPT and LEAPT. While it is not something that widely affects my writing, I have a word-associative disorder, and there are some words that I process differently. I am not excusing any flaws in my writing, but it takes substantial effort for me to even acknowledge the correct forms of certain words. I'm simply stating this to avoid ramifications; I do not wish for someone to read my work and think of it as shoddy, or to assume that I have a blatant disregard for proper-speak in literature.
Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.
...
CH 11
It was well passed noon when Raphael had woken up from his nap, stirred awake by the pull of his stomach- something akin to what a bear might feel after a long hibernation: the need to sate hunger. Eyes open and looking around to recollect his whereabouts, he was once again reminded of the cosmic shift in his life that landed him a night in the alley.
If possible, despite his rest, he felt even more exhausted than he had earlier. His muscles were stiff, his body sore.
The sun had shifted positions and was no longer hitting him in the face like a high-beam and, he registered in a muted sense, he was grateful.
'Keep spinnin', world,' he thought tiredly. 'Ya ain't gotta stop turnin' for this turtle. And yer apparently not gonna open up and spill rain down to accommodate my mood.'
Still vaguely detached, he retained enough sense not to go parading around for public eyes in the daylight. He was empty, not stupid. He was still a walking, talking freak of nature: a mutant. He was critically aware of the bio-chemical structure of his DNA, as his genius brother had harped on far too many times for it not to be ingrained in his memory.
His genius brother, one of three that he had. For the moment, he thought about them indifferently, in a way that could only mean he was either depressed or completely lost, or maybe some more complicated and twisted form of both that he couldn't bother to deliberate. Or maybe he was just really, really tired...
He considered Leonardo. Perfect and structured, no matter the pressure. The group leader and teacher's pet to their shared sensei. With his respectable katana. His blue mask. His ridiculous need to be in control of everything.
He considered Donatello. Insightful, careful and precise in all he did. The patient engineer with an uncanny ability to understand. With his defensive bo staff. His purple mask. His selfless desire to put everyone and everything above his own well-being.
He considered Michelangelo. Graceful and energetic, quick to smile regardless of tension. The impatient joker who boasted and barbed and relied far more on words than his natural athletic abilities. With his wicked nunchaku. His orange mask. His infectiously good nature that knew nothing of mortality.
Lastly, he considered himself.
But his thoughts died after the name Raphael had come to mind.
His mind drew blank on positive qualities, and he didn't want to put energy towards more negativity. So, he stopped thinking altogether.
If his brain had an off switch, he switched it off. Powered down. Siphoned the fuel.
As if injured and needing to recuperate, he allowed his mind to rest.
He considered meditation but rebelled against the idea almost instantly. He wanted to escape his thoughts, not swim in them.
His stomach growled, and he placed a hand over his abdomen, feeling the slight vibrations.
'Looks like the tank is empty,' he mused, but there was no mirth to be found. Forcing himself up, muscles protesting, he looked around to better gauge his surroundings.
There was a construction site not far; he could hear the harblar and humdrum in the distance, workers lazing about by their bulky machinery. There were rundown shacks to his east -a clutter of ghetto-esque homes with less than regal occupants.
The factory-world would be in full swing anytime; this time of year, it always ran late. At this hour, from his position, he could scarcely see the black smoke hovering in the sky like a bad omen. That smoke cloud would only continue to grow... and he didn't want to sit and watch.
Steady on his feet, despite his protesting muscles and creaking joints, he stretched languidly and felt the relieving sensation of several bones popping.
"Not much I can do til nighttime," he said gruffly, "but I ain't gonna starve. I just need ta hide the whole green-skin and shellback thing." Twitching his fingers and feeling the crusted blood, he frowned before adding aloud: "And I gotta do somethin' 'bout this before it gets infected." With a deep breath, he crouched down, muscles coiling, body hinged, and sprung up, executing a simple flip and landing on the other side of the bulwark of trash cans. Then he tore away from the mouth of the alley, rewarded with the sight of limited activity in this part of town.
Ducking behind a lemon of a car, senses peeled, he waited for self-assurance before taking a quick tumble and stopping behind a van. Squatting comfortably, he rolled his shoulders to work out the last of his kinks. With keen amber eyes, he looked around to map out his route.
'Hit the construction site first. Less people. Then head east. See, Leo? Plannin' shit ain't hard. Don't see why yer always such a prude about it.'
Quickly rushing forward and taking cover behind a stack of metal beams for pending highrises, his eyes widened marginally as he came came face to face with a rather stout construction worker.
'Ah, so that's why... Damn!'
...
[April's Apartment]
Leo sat upright on the couch, his back as straight as an arrow and shoulders tense. He curled his toes against the carpet fibers under his feet. Eyes narrow and jaw set, he placed his hands on each knee and squeezed firmly to relieve the sense of trepidation.
He'd recovered almost all feeling and mobility in his arms and his twitches were slight and infrequent.
While he was physically in April's living room, his mind was wholly focused on his family.
Even lost in his thoughts, he was aware of the redhead's presence before she even entered the room; his training and dedication assured that. So he was less than surprised when she offered him a cup of tea and a reassuring smile before speaking.
"Leo, can I get you anything else?"
The blue-banded turtle politely declined further hospitality and gave a respectful bow of his head. "Thank you, April. You've done more than enough for me." Despite his pleasant tone, his body remained rigid and stiff, and it had nothing to do with the prior assault of the senbon.
"Are you alright?" April asked, voice careful but worried, very similar to one Don might use. She took a seat beside Leo, her gaze trained on his body language rather than his face... because she new all too well that he'd betray no emotion if he could help it.
Leo's face was a mask of stoicism, but he took a quiet sip of his tea and answered truthfully. "Last night was bad, April. And it was all my fault." Another sip of tea, and he rested the cup on a nearby coaster. "If I hadn't suggested that we go out in the first place, none of this would have happened."
Hearing this, the redhead placed a comforting hand on Leo's shoulder. "I only have half of the story, Leo, so I don't know... but what I do know, is that you'd never lead your brothers astray. You're strong and competent, and they need you. So, buck up!" She removed her hand and returned it with a hearty slap to his shell.
Leo blinked, his apathetic mask broken and surprise showing. His eyes were wide as he blinked in slow consideration. "April, did you pretty much just tell me to suck it up?"
Smiling, the redhead nodded. "You do too much of this, Leo. Brooding and blaming yourself isn't helping. Your brothers need you. Stop wallowing and do something."
Leo's expression turned pensive as he repeated: "Stop wallowing... and do something." His mind cycled through thoughts, specifically centered on his red-banded brother. With a firm nod of his own, he concluded his thoughts and punctuated it with speech. "You're right, April. That's what Raph would say. Shell, that's what Raph would do! He's under a lot of stress; he's been out of sorts for a while. I need to talk to him. About everything..."
April's smile turned downwards, morphing into something more worried. "Raph doesn't like to talk much, Leo. Be careful. He might-"
"I'm counting on that, April," Leo said, crossing his arms over his plastron. "I'm counting on him getting mad and fighting with me. Because, after last night, he needs to know that nothing has changed between him and the rest of us. April, he-" Leo's words trailed off, caught in his throat like something forbidden. "I won't speak of what he did. It is unforgivable, but Raph is still my brother. He'd risk his life for mine, and I need to do the same for him."
"Don said Raph didn't come home last night," April said softly, her gaze lowering.
Leo nodded. "Raph... does this when he's upset. He runs off. He thinks he's protecting us, but he's only hurting himself. We need to find him. April, can I use your phone?"
"Of course, Leo. What for?" April responded, getting up to grab her phone and handing it to her turtle companion.
Taking the phone, Leo regarded April's question. "If Raph is upset like I think he is, we'll have to drag him home personally. Otherwise, he- he'll get lost in his head. I know Raph doesn't show it, but he does a lot of his living up here-" he pointed to his head, suddenly reminded of how both Raph and Don had tried to explain the nature of the hothead. "And he does just as much living in here," he moved the same hand over his plastron where his heart was, eyes suddenly full of understanding. "We need to find him. I need to call Don. If Mikey's up for it, I want both him and Don to search the tunnels. And then -Casey!" Leo jolted, an idea suddenly striking him with an almost violent bout of limpidity. "April, my brothers and I can't go out in the daylight. Can we get Casey to hit the streets to look for Raph?" His eyes were hopeful; his tone of voice and body language displayed that he was in full leader-mode. The personification of determination.
April held her breath, surprised by the sudden change. "You know Casey would do anything for you guys. His number is-"
"Um," Leo interrupted, suddenly uncomfortable. In his own awkward moment, he appeared at least a few years younger. He turned his head to look away from April, abashed. "Can you make the calls for me? The buttons on your phone aren't exactly turtle-friendly." Holding up the phone in one hand, he wiggled the large thick fingers of his other.
And just like that, plans were underway.
...
[There we go. Another chapter down, and more to come! Thanks again, to all my readers and reviewers!]