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. [QUITE A FEW REFERENCES IN THIS CHAPTER!] 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: Light chapter ahead; it's basically a filler, but it is necessary. Proceed with caution. (Oh, and prepare to meet Hobo-Joe.)
Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.
...
CH 12
At Leo's order, the plan was to find Raphael and bring him home as soon as possible; any damage done would then be dealt with afterwards. Taking charge as much as he could, the blue-banded ninja directed everyone to work as a team. Mikey had -rather loudly- refused to search the tunnels, and so he was assigned to keep an eye on the lair and notify everyone if Raphael made himself known. Splinter would remain in the lair, if only to keep and eye on Michelangelo and watch the News for anything suspicious or alarming. Don had tapped into the security feed of several cameras and, when he came up empty, he opted to search the tunnels as Leo had requested.
Leo himself remained at the apartment, restless and pacing. It was too bright outside to risk sneaking around, even if he were to pull on a disguise; he couldn't chance it. And so, with nothing but a phone line to link him to the others and the search for his missing brother, he could only wait. And waiting was not something he enjoyed. As stoic and patient as he could be, he came undone when he was alone. In the few hours that April had been gone -because she had gone out to search with Casey so they could cover more ground- Leo had played checkers against himself and lost. He started a game of Solitaire on the computer but grew bored and stopped halfway through. He'd paced the apartment, mapping out every inch and then measuring it by the length of his own feet rather than Imperial or Metric units. And at one point, he even played a round of Pat-a-Cake with the air... and it was at that moment he realized he'd truly lost it.
He needed something productive to do aside from sitting beside a phone and telling everyone what they already knew to do.
A worried Leo was one thing, but a worried Leo with a missing brother and nothing to do was something else. He knew he needed to stay in case Raph showed up. Well, that and the whole 'too green to be seen' ordeal. He knew he was acting like a fool, but his own restlessness was getting the better of him.
Ultimately, he found himself sitting on the floor in the Lotus position... not meditating. Because he couldn't risk missing a phone call that might be about his brother.
As per Leo's brilliant orders, April had alerted Casey of the search, and both humans went their separate ways. April would cover as much of the public scene as she could while Casey covered the outskirts and boroughs.
On April's escapade, she asked around, careful on details.
"Have you seen my friend? About this tall. Male. Answers to Raphael. Usually wears a mask..." Of course, she received a lot of odd responses, but none of them were what she'd been hoping for. Then again, part of her was relieved. 'No news is better than bad news,' she reasoned.
It seemed like forever had passed with nothing to show for anyone's worries or efforts. That is, until April's phone rang.
"Yes?" she answered, tentative, alert, alive with hope and nervousness.
She was greeted by Casey's voice. True to his own rash nature and impatience and devotion to his friends, he had gone out at a moment's notice, mask-less and hurried, wanting nothing more than to help his pals and find Raphael. He reasoned that if anyone had a shot at finding the hothead, it would be him; he promised to call the moment he had a lead. And he was calling now.
"Babe, it's Case. I found somethin'."
"You found Raph?" April blurted, relief flooding her. "How is he? Why didn't you call Leo? Have you already talked to Leo? Did he tell you about the checker-thing? I've been so worried. The guys are-"
"No, babe. Hold up. I didn't find Raph. Just his mask." He paused, letting his words sink in. "The mask has been cut clean off. No sign of Raph though."
From her end, April gasped in horror, her mind dredging up the worst.
...
[Construction Site, with Raphael]
Everything about the man was wide. His forehead, his flabby cheeks that hung low over his chin like dog-ears. His thick wrinkly neck, resembling that of a Sharpe. His wide shoulders that had plenty of mass but virtually no muscle; they held the look and feel of sofa cushions. His breasts, because this man had those, were large and hung like something deformed and alien. His belly, something that resembled a beanbag chair in both size and appearance. Thankfully, his clothes covered the bulk of his... bulk from direct view. He wore a vest decorated in reflective tape, and the hardhat on his head had seen better days with its chipped paint and fading color.
Raphael regarded this man and his form first and foremost, and above all... he sized him up. A man that big would be slow, but his legs appeared unnaturally thick- muscular from the strain of carting the blobby man from place to place. All in all, the man was no threat, even if his hands were larger than Raph's head; those meaty sausage-fingers looked distinctly grimy and inefficient.
Face to face with the middle-aged man, Raphael considered his options. His first idea was to handle things peacefully, to play the whole 'we come in peace' bit and then make a break for it; he didn't like running, but there were only so many things he could do when it came to people of the non-ninja variety. Because interacting with scared humans was something that almost never went well. He held up his hands in a placating gesture before speaking. "Easy now, I'm just a turtle... Just a mutant turtle that saves yer city all the time." He tried to sooth the man with his words, and he instantly regretted it.
It sounded stupid, even to his own ear slits.
The man stumbled back a step, eyes wide and jaw flapping soundlessly. As his jaw moved, the number of chins he had seemed to double and triple before retracting back into a single glob between his mouth and neck.
"Calm down, man, I'm just gonna leave all nice and quiet-like. Okay?"
The man was struck with absolute terror, eyes wide, he spouted "Y-You! You're the Creature from the Black Lagoon!"
Raph's face scrunched up in displeasure. "Ah, c'mon. I've seen the movie, and that's just an insult," the turtle teased half-heartedly, surprised to find some humor in his words rather than the numbness he'd felt before. "Give me some credit on originality here."
"A-Are you gonna eat me?" the man blathered.
Raphael took a moment to consider his response. He could lie, fool around, yank this guy's chain, scare him a little. Could be fun. But at the last minute, he decided against it. "Nah, I don't eat people." He opened his mouth and pointed to his teeth. "See these chompers? Ain't made fer people-eatin'." A thought struck him, and he acted on it. "Speakin' of eatin', ya smell like an Italian joint. Got any grub?" He sniffed at the man in an invasive manner and pulled back with a grimace when he caught the other odors the man carried. "And deodorant, ever hear of that? Sheesh! Ya got that whole onion-pit thing goin' on..." He caught himself grinning, amused beyond his whiles. He couldn't help it. It was nice to simply feel something again, something non-aggressive, borderline complacent.
It was almost like he hadn't... -
'Hadn't what?'
His mind blanked out the information, and he was suddenly unsure if he even had done something wrong. For a moment he recalled a fight with the Foot, Michelangelo hurt, Donatello taking him back to the lair, and Leonardo stung by needles... There was a brief flash of guilt, but the guilt was quickly overwhelmed by the next flash of memory: him throwing bloodied jabs at the Shredder; then the unmasking... Something about meeting on the roof of the corner shop. -The memory made his head hurt in deep pulsations, so intense that it almost forced a vocal protest from his throat, but he held back the sound, indignant.
His memory felt fuzzy, and he didn't want to dwell on it. But it was still bothersome.
'Feels like somethin's missing. Somethin' big.' Even that train of thought caused his head to throb. He forced himself to think, but he recalled little more than disjointed flashes, and those flashes seemed less and less important each time he played them over in his head. 'Maybe it ain't so important after all. If it was, I'd remember, right?'
So he shrugged off the dilemma altogether and waited for the man to answer; after all, there was a possibility of food in the near future.
The man puffed out a breath and seemed to calm down. "I got a few sandwiches. If you don't eat me, I can share. But first... what... are you?"
Raph shrugged noncommittally, his shoulders slumped and he felt more relaxed than he should have. It was as if, in the absence of the elusive memory, a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Ya wouldn't believe me if I told ya. So, for yer sake, just say I'm a guy in a turtle-suit. And I'm hungry," he snapped his teeth in a shark-like manner, chuckling afterwards.
The man faked a nervous laugh of his own before finding his voice."W-Wait here. I'll get lunch!" Turning away, he bumbled off, both of his overly large ass cheeks seeming to battle one another with every step.
Raph sniggered and placed a hand over his face as his headache receded; his stomach growled in anticipation. Suddenly, he didn't feel so bad. Just hungry. And if this bozo of a human didn't cause any trouble, he'd be pretty damn content.
Sure enough, the man returned, his bulging belly present a whole second before the rest of him. He held a blue duffel bag in one hand and a green thermos in the other. He sat down on the ground near Raphael, his legs spread wide and his duffel resting between them."I'm taking my lunch break now," he said, as if it mattered.
"So am I," Raph responded automatically, eying the duffel like it would sprout legs and run off if he so much as blinked. He could smell the greasy contents and his mouth salivated conditionally.
The man unzipped the duffel and procured one, two, three, four... - nine wrapped sandwiches stamped with a fast-food logo. With a constipated expression, he picked one up for himself and handed another to Raphael. "So, are you some kind of lizard? Frog? Alien?"
Raphael removed the wrapping of his sandwich, biting aggressively through the layers of bread, meat, and cheese; he grumbled through a mouthful: "Turtle." Swallowing and clearing his throat, he amended, "I'm a fuckin' turtle. Look at the shell." He jabbed a thumb towards his carapace for emphasis.
The man nodded. "And I'm a human. Leader of all humans, actually. And I'd like to say that we come in peace."
Half-choking on his next bite, Raphael stifled a laugh. "Ya ain't foolin' anyone, fat man. First off, I already implied that I ain't an alien. Second, yer not the president, and the human race doesn't have a single leader."
The man bowed his head, a blush coating his blubbery face with mottled color. "I, uh, was just checking your knowledge on human stuff," he lied easily enough, but his dishonesty was evident in the way his eyes shifted and his lips twitched just so.
"Whatever ya say, man. Ya got a name? Or should I just call ya Hobo-Joe?" Raphael felt oddly conversational and at ease. "You give me yer name, and I won't eat all yer food." He half-joked, because he could eat all those stupid sandwiches...
"Chuck Norris," came the man's response after a moment's hesitation.
Raph rolled his eyes. "Liar. More like Dick Buttkiss. And yer about as much of a Chuck Norris as I am a Prince Charming."
And then it was the stout man's turn to laugh, a loud and hearty guffaw. "Alright, Shrek. You caught me. Ronald. I'm Ronald Reagan. -No, better yet, Nixon!" Amusement flashed in the human's squinty eyes.
Sighing when the joke grew stale, Raph shook his head. "I have a semi-formal education, so stop bein' a douche about it. I know all the historical figures and junk. I asked yer name, not yer banking information."
The man suddenly looked startled. "You know what a bank is?!"
Raph's amusement faded quickly enough. He growled in a show of irritation. "I'm a reptile, not an idiot. Jeeze. If ya ain't gonna act intelligent, don't talk to me." With that, he continued to eat, savoring each bite, finishing one sandwich and grabbing another... then hijacking the thermos and gagging at the vile liquid that tasted pungent and burned his throat. "What the fuck is this? It smells like- ugh."
"That, my awkward green friend, is vodka."
...
[Yet another one down. Another one on the way.]