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. -I also reference a song called White Rabbit by Egypt Central.- 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: Another chapter. Just so we can see what's going on with the other Turtles after a month without Raph. It just feels necessary. -Also, rating has gone up, just to be safe.

Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.

...

CH 15

[At the Lair]

The team that had formed under the Splinter's tutelage was built out of necessity and function. It consisted of four pillars, and each one had an important role and contribution that kept it balanced. The leader, with his strategy and honor and good sense of judgement. The brain, with his engineering and compassion and mental flexibility. The muscle, with his strength and recklessness and rash nature. And the heart, with his smiles, jokes, and immortal humor. While each cared for the well-being of their family and could be thoughtful and determined or stubborn to a fault, each had their role to fill and were expected to never stray far from it.

Fundamentally speaking, each were a potential building block to be stacked on top of or alongside one another, creating something incredible and effective and structurally sound.

Omitting one piece from the equation was a definite stress factor. Like playing Jenga and trying to remove a firmly-lodged block, the whole tower might wobble or topple.

Leo was just one pillar; without the rest of his team, he was nothing.

As leader, he needed to get his team back together as a whole. Failure was not an option.

Yet, with each passing day, it was becoming more and more obvious that somewhere along the line, Leo had failed.

A month ago, everything had been fine, normal for them, even if the red-banded turtle had demonstrated his natural aggression; it was something they were all accustomed to, and they had dealt with it accordingly.

But, in Raph's absence, almost nothing was normal.

Leo sat at the kitchen table, his mask hanging down around his neck and the bags under his eyes tattling his lack of sleep. The tea in his cup and the toast in his stomach did little to comfort him, but at least it was something normal he could count on. Normalcy was something he needed, especially when he regarded how much things had changed in such a short amount of time.

Don stood by the coffee pot, already downing his fifth cup for the morning. His own mask on his face but doing nothing to hide his wide glassy eyes and the muted sorrow in them. His exhaustion worse than Leo's, he looked ready to fall over any second, wobbling on his own two feet as he clasped that broken cup between his hands like it was the only thing holding him up. Don's reason for exhaustion: he'd made a regular habit of spending his nights scouring the city for signs of Raphael, but so far he found nothing.

There were times when Don would even venture with Casey in their search. The purple-banded ninja would come home with bruises, but when addressed, he'd say something along the lines of: "Be reasonable, Leo. Would I go out and pick a fight to get information on Raphael's whereabouts? I think not." As he'd say this, Don would sound tired or even delirious.

Worse than that, Leo would have to remind Don "I didn't ask that. I asked if you remembered to pick up milk. Mikey likes milk. He asked for it."

And no, Don never remembered the milk.

If Don's new behavior was worrisome, Mike's was at least ten times worse. The usually excitable turtle had changed drastically, becoming bitter, brooding, reflective, and with the slightest provocation, angry or tearful. When asked, Mikey would just get angrier before eventually breaking down into tears and confessing: "I just miss Raph. Him being angry all the time gives me a reason to try and cheer everyone up! Without him around, the smiles just fall flat. Unnoticed. Like, I don't matter. I feel like, if he's not around to be angry, someone else has to step up and do it... Leo's the leader. Donnie's the genius. And my spot on the team is replaceable. So, it's gotta be me. Our team -our family- it's not right without him!"

At one point, the orange-clad turtle had also launched into a hysterical explanation of how "We're squares, bro. Squares! Without Raph, we're just a stupid triangle... Triangles suck... Four trumps three every time." No one questioned it. Because, despite how strange it was, it had made sense in a hysterical-Mike sort of way.

Mikey, the heart of the team. The joker, the videogame-playing prank-lover who went out of his way to serve as a buffer for his brothers' problems and shield them all from their ration of misery... but who would shield Mikey from his?

Michelangelo had taken it upon himself to patch up Raph's abused and over-used punching bag. Had even gone through the trouble of lugging it into Raphael's room. The only problem is, once Mikey went in, it was almost impossible to get him out.

In that room, they could all feel Raphael, as if pieces of him were clinging to the walls, the hammock, the weight bench. As if anything and everything in there was a reminder that Raph was alive and would be with them again... It filled them with hope, but with each day that passed with no sign from their brother, that hope just felt more like a burden, and it grew heavier and heavier until it was soul-crushing.

In respite, Mikey spent a lot of time in there, in that room, going through Raph's personal belongings... specifically the notebooks he found.

If Raph had known, he'd surely be pissed enough to go into another fit of white-out Raph-rage.

But Mikey didn't care, and neither Don nor Leo could bring themselves to pull him out of that room once he'd gone in. Worse yet was, when all was quiet, and the orange-banded brother thought no one could hear... he'd lock himself in that haunted room, slip on a pair of headphones, and sing. And it was nothing of the upbeat dance-mix he often favored. The voice certainly was reminiscent of Michelangelo, but the tone and words were nothing familiar as he belted: "Your magic... white rabbit, has left its writing on the wall. We follow, like Alice, and just keep diving down the hole. You... can't fix your broken promise; Our ties have come undone...'

No one called Mikey out on the obvious angst -not because they didn't care, but because they didn't want their own emotions and newfound behaviors to be brought into light and turned against them.

As for Splinter, his time for meditating had increased indefinitely in his redoubled efforts to search for his son's spirit, to guide him back home... or at least let him know that they all cared dearly. The few times he'd come close to contacting his son, he'd simply run into a wall. And, just as he feared, that wall was growing thicker and thicker, protecting the fragile thing inside but keeping out any and all potential sources of help.

Worse than that wall was when Splinter couldn't feel his son at all, as if he'd slipped away completely... The absence was nothing constant, so he was certainly alive, but the strength and passion that had once radiated so fiercely had dulled into something unspeakable and unnameable.

Damnable.

In the month that his son had been gone, Splinter's own paternal errors had come to light and weighed him down. Some days, he was reluctant to even wake up from the sleep that took away his worry and grief, but he pressed on each day... with hopes of being reunited and making amends with his rogue son.

As a mixed blessing, if only for the sake of them not being alone to bear the loss, the immediate members of the Hamato clan weren't the only ones affected by Raphael's absence.

April and Casey were also at odds with the world... and each other. April, at least, could be rational after she'd calmed down, but Casey was another story. The fights they got into often ended with one or both screaming and hastily retreating from the surface world and down into the lair, which was decidedly neutral territory. It was an unspoken and unwritten agreement, that they wouldn't fight once they set foot in the lair.

The lair... was a place to mourn and hope for Raph's return, not to say hurtful things.

Regardless, it was almost daily that Casey Jones would defend himself with the words: "But you guys will never understand! Raph's my pal! My best bud! April, the turtles all saved ya- they always do, so yer obligated to like 'em. And you guys! You were all raised together, so it wasn't optional. But me and Raph, we made the choice to be buds, and... and I took it fer granted!"

The first time Casey had his breakdown, everyone had felt bad, but it soon became so commonplace that no one even bothered to verbally soothe him.

And, if Leo were to be honest, the whole 'woe is me' factor was grating on his nerves. Whining solved nothing. They needed a solid lead and a plan...

It was one of those times, that Casey had stomped into the lair with April close behind, but thankfully, it wasn't one with Casey throwing his own personal pity party.

"I got news," Casey said, his face bright and beaming, wide-eyed and teeth bared in an all too happy grin.

"If it's about hockey again," Leo began tiredly, only to be interrupted by April.

"No, Leo, it's about Raphael!" Her words, so hyped and full of hope. There was a laugh bubbling behind her tone as her eyes grew wet with tears she didn't bother to hold back.

Hearing this, the three turtles all started.

Leo's jaw became slack and indignant, unable to process what he'd heard.

Don's surprise caused his precious cup to slip from his hands and crash to the floor... hard enough to shatter it.

And Mikey stopped mid-grab of a cereal box, waiting with baited breath for whatever news was to come.

Finally having everyone's attention -minus Splinter, who was mid-trance- Casey blurted out "I met a construction worker who said that he not only seen a giant turtle with an attitude, but also talked to it! Said they got together twice in the last month for sandwiches and vodka!"

It sounded ridiculous, despite the hype and hope the humans had displayed.

For several painfully long seconds, no one said anything and the turtles exchanged measured looks.

Then, Mikey shrugged and grabbed his box of cereal, frowning at how light it was in his hand. That frown creased his browline and he suddenly scowled and turned his attention to Don. "Dooonniiiiiee," he drew the name out slow and carefully between clenched teeth. "Did you forget to get me cereal?"

Don shrugged, kneeling down and carefully collecting his fractured cup; his heart ached... to see that he'd broken something that had connected him to his missing brother: something that had helped him to understand his hotheaded sibling.

"Answer me, Don," Michelangelo released a low, rumbling growl that could only be perceived as a threat.

Don answered then, his voice soft, if not a little more detached than usual. "Just make something like you used to. Raph's the one who liked the convenience of cereal. And, you're not Raph. It does no one any good for you to act like him. If nothing else... it's upsetting. Almost like losing two brothers instead of one."

Don's honesty was well-intended, but his orange-banded brother only took in a distorted version that egged him on. "Filthy cunt!" Mikey snapped, seething, eyes narrowed as he curled his hands into fists... working so hard... trying... for all he was worth, to put himself into the blind rage his brother Raphie had slipped into so effortlessly.

Leo didn't bother to physically intervene. This, too, had become something to expect on a bad morning. He simply placed a hand over his eyes and took a deep cleansing breath before saying "Michelangelo, language. And, apologize to Donnie. Then, Don, apologize to Mikey because you obviously upset him. Leo-" he stopped, realizing that he'd almost given himself an order. He was too tired, too drained. He slowly removed his hand from his face and placed it on the table, using it to help hold his tired form in an upright position.

Don didn't apologize. He simply picked up the glass remnants of his cup and set it on the counter to be repaired later. 'Everyone's falling apart, but I'm still the Fix-It guy...' he thought, unsure of how to feel about it. So, he opted not to feel at all, to look at everything as simple, clean, and factual.

Mike, on the other hand, had given up trying to slip into his own rage-induced stupor in favor of leaping towards his purple-banded brother. He tackled him to the ground with menial effort, straddling him before slowly drawing back his own shaking fist... but, he never landed the blow. His hand gradually unfurled and his arm fell limp. His shoulders shook and he closed his eyes tightly, sniffling as his mask became wet against a flow of tears. Leaning over Don, still trembling, he sobbed "D-Donniiiie, I'm sorry... It's all f-fucked up! You need to... f-fix... it. W-We're bros! And you're the-the... the one who f-fixes things. Leo leads. You fix. I-I just... need... to..." and he broke down into another fit of hysterical sobs. When his breath stopped hitching and his cries fell into soft hiccups, he managed to say "I-I just... wanted... some cereal, Donnie. I'm sorry. I wanted some damn cereal. I bet Raphie isn't eating any fuckin' cereal... But... he likes cereal. What if he comes home... and there isn't any?!" Another burst of tears and an anguished cry later, he took a moment to calm down, then removed himself from his older brother before fidgeting and humming to himself. He needed comfort, but if his siblings offered, he'd lash out. On purpose. Raphael wouldn't take pity, and neither would Michelangelo.

Donatello's face was a careful mask of calm, cool detachment. As if he was completely unaffected by the display. He took his time getting to his feet, glanced almost mournfully at the broken cup, and walked out of the kitchen, mumbling something about glue.

April looked horrified. She'd seen the turtle-boys act out, but never to this degree.

Casey just gawked awkwardly, stunned before shouting "What the hell is wrong with you guys?! We get the first news on Raph in a month, and yer just blowin' it off and fightin' each other?! The lair is a neutral territory! Ya can't bring the negativity in! You-"

Just then, Leo got up from his chair, his eyes narrow and jaw set. His expression was both grim and serious as he roughly grabbed Casey by the wrist and proceeded to half-drag him from the kitchen.

April followed, concerned. "Leo?" she tried, but received no answer. Still, she followed.

Casey was too vexed and caught up in everything to really respond on the short trek, but he followed behind without giving protest as Leo led him... straight to Raph's room.

"W-We can't go in there!" Casey said suddenly, once he realized what Leo was up to.

The blue-banded turtle ignored the human vigilante's words and opened the door before pushing him inside. He followed a step behind.

Once in, Casey spun to face Leo, a glare hardening his features. "What the hell, Leo?!"

Leo stood there, head high, eyes boring into Casey's. With a slow, subtle shake of his head, he said "Look around, Casey."

And, with mild hesitation, Casey did.

Everything looked exactly as it should have. He'd expected the room to be all but sealed off, serving as a practical shrine to the missing turtle. But instead, Casey noted that it simply looked lived-in; there was no accumulative dust or anything out of place... except for the stuffed turtle with the red bandana tied around its neck. It rested in Raph's hammock, looking far too cheery for anything Raph might own.

Upon seeing Casey focus on the toy, Leo explained "This is where Mikey spends most of his time, Casey. Mikey. Beating on Raph's punching bag or lifting Raph's weights. He refuses to sleep in here though because... he has nightmares, and this room... it's too much inspiration for him to create those nightmares. But Mike decided that he didn't want Raph's hammock to go unused, so...-" He unnecessarily gestured to the stuffed turtle.

Casey nodded slowly, processing what he heard but not quite understanding.

Leo continued. "Don doesn't sleep much, but when he does, he'll only sleep in here. The only thing he even does in his lab, is look for clues to Raph's whereabouts. And his experiments are all on some kind of hiatus."

Casey frowned as everything sank in. "So... I'm havin' myself a bitchy pity party... but you guys are constantly livin' with a reminder of what ya lost." He looked away, his expression one of shame. After a moment, he relaxed his face into something more complacent before turning to face the turtle once more. "What about you, Leo? How you holdin' up?"

For once, Leo lowered his gaze to the floor and scuffed his feet; he allowed the action, didn't even try to stop himself from the childish act. "What I do... is not your concern," he said carefully.

April stood in the doorway, eavesdropping. She hadn't been subtle, so it wasn't as if her companions had been unaware, and after hearing what she had, she held no remorse for listening in. She crossed her arms, the pose making her look more feminine, accenting her curves. "What I don't understand, Leo," she began, "is why you guys aren't jumping for joy over our find. It could lead us to Raph!"

Leo gave a small shrug before confessing. "April, I'll investigate, if you want, but... Donnie and Mikey... they can't handle another wild goose chase."

Casey rubbed his chin with a thoughtful expression. "Say, uh, Leo? Wouldn't that be a wild turtle chase?" He laughed at his own joke, clapping Leo on the shoulder in an attempt to get him to join in.

His attempt was in vain, but April offered a small smile, grateful for Casey's intent.

Leo heaved an inaudible sigh. "We'll leave at dusk."

"Great!" Casey beamed. "Ape and I already discussed it. We can meet up at the place... with all the old stuff."

April moved her hands to her hips and focused a weak glare on her male counterpart. "The museum, Casey. The museum."

Leo gave a nod and turned away. "Fair enough, but I need to get some rest if we're heading out later. April, Casey, make yourselves at home, but be mindful of my brothers."

"I'll talk to Mikey," April said.

"I got Donnie-boy," Casey added with a sly grin, procuring a hockey stick from his sports bag. "Me and that bo of his got a score ta settle. Mano et sticko."

...

[Another one done. Another one already started.]