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: Chapter length? I usually shoot for 2000+, but obviously, I've gone under and over that number more often than not. Mostly, I've gone over. I've had chapters 5, 6, and 7 thousand words long, and I've had chapters a little over 1000 words long. I am curious; is there any preference there? Longer chapters that take longer to outline, draft, edit, and post? Or shorter ones that come at a better frequency? Due to personal life and my job, I can't write as much as I had in the beginning; I don't have the time, but I'm determined to keep this story going and see it through to the end.
Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.
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CH 41
Coming back from those alleged 'dreams' was always like swimming. There's suffocating pressure from all angles. There's the brief feeling of being grounded, feet planting firmly on the ocean floor before kicking off. Then, there's a feeling of weightlessness. The constriction of deflating lungs that ache for oxygen. There's the bright light up above, a fight through the murky waters and up towards the surface beyond. And, ultimately, there's a rush. A gasp. A hacking cough and a stark contrast between where you were and where you are now.
From below, to above, to here and now.
That initial shock, that instinctual sharp pull for air, that's what Raphael always felt when coming from that world into the conscious one.
Iridium eyes snapped open, and for a moment, Raphael had to remind himself to breathe. Once that much was successfully accomplished, he allowed his vision to focus and he slowly moved to sit up and take in his surroundings. Gone were the vivid colors- or lack there of- replaced by the familiar setting of April's living room.
For a moment, his only thought was: 'Damn wallpaper... doesn't compliment the carpet.' It was an odd thought, but it plagued him for a solid three, four, five seconds before anything else began to register.
Reaching a hand to the juncture between his neck and shoulder, Raphael pressed and massaged out a kink before rising to his feet. Almost systematically, he turned and fluffed and repositioned the couch cushions before moving to turn off the lamps.
Albeit slightly altered, it was routine. A bit of mundane activity to keep him grounded. A mental checklist predominating action. Despite the fact that he was not in his normal stead, his morning rituals were almost a necessity. Some part of his mind vaguely wandered to the pill planner at the Infirmary. His meds, unobtainable. A task he couldn't finish. The thought was unsettling as he mentally envisioned each one. The little white and yellow ones. The oval ones. The grainy tablets. The capsules. The little round ones that had a faint but almost pleasant smell... He knew each one by size, shape, color and texture. While he couldn't pinpoint them by name or intent, he knew the feel of them in his palm or against his tongue.
For now, though, he would have to go without them. The thought alone had him grinding his teeth together at the unfamiliar stress.
An unfinished task. Something so simple but out of reach. If he'd been at Central, his morning rituals would have been fully carried out, and he'd be on his way to either a banter-filled breakfast with his human-master, or perhaps going to greet his black-clad brethren prior to a training session.
Waking up here rather than the place he'd almost come to see as his home, everything was off kilter and strange.
But, he was more than a creature of habit. He was also a ninja. And by Master Shredder's words, 'A ninja is nothing, if not adaptable.'
The recollection of those words caused the mutant's mouth to twitch in a would-be semblance of a smile, but he forced his face into something more calm and borderline blank. An easy feat. Because, he would adapt. He would carry on. And he would bide his time as necessary.
Without much more thought, he sought his gear, piled up at the foot-end of the sofa. With steady hands, on came the RTG belt, followed by the unique pads. It felt good to gear up again. It was routine. Practiced and easy, thoughtless. He almost wished for his insignia-emblazoned scarf or bandana for the sake of completion, but now wasn't the time to bear that symbol. Not before the eyes of the other reptiles.
For a moment, he allowed his mind to wander. 'Wonder what kinda fit they'd all have if they saw it. Would somethin' as simple as a bandana make 'em see me as an enemy? Or would they look past it?' He snorted derisively at his own musings.
He cracked his neck and allowed himself the luxury of rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His body felt rested and ready to go, but his mind had an almost heavy, foggy feeling to it. It was odd and discomforting but tolerable all the same; so he ignored it for now.
A yawn took him by surprise and he stifled it behind a large 3-fingered hand.
'Wonder what they're up to. My brothers, they-'
His thoughts were effectively interrupted as a brief but sharp pain tore through his head, striking lightning-fast and disappearing just as quick. It was peculiar and unsettling, and for a moment he searched his thoughts for reason. However, all that came to mind was the almost haunting image of his own monstrous duplicate, the one that bore a red mask and had tried to speak.
It had only been a dream, for sure, but it had felt so real, and it raised so many questions...
For instance, he had to wonder what the other turtle had been trying to say. A threat? A taunt? A warning? Perhaps it was nothing to worry over, but he had an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't help thinking that it meant something colossal.
He drew in a breath, trapped the air in his chest before blowing it out, depressing his lungs and releasing the tension with it. Decidedly feeling a bit better and opting to ignore the mental image of the duplicate turtle, he turned his attention to a nearby clock.
The neon-red letters beamed at him almost mockingly: 12:45. A glance at the window and the light pouring in only continued to spell out an awful truth that hadn't even occurred to him until that exact moment.
Staring at rays of light that beamed in through the window, the particles of dust just barely visible to the naked eye, realization washed over Raphael like a bucket of cold water.
Gone were all traces of sleep or morning musings, replaced by full awareness, high alert, and complete unease.
"The fuck?" the emerald-skinned turtle hissed under his breath, abruptly filled with agitation. He tried to remember falling asleep. He tried to assess how long he'd slept. He tried to understand why he hadn't woken up with the natural hype of his circadian rhythm.
Frustrated at his own lack of answers, he turned just in time to catch Michelangelo almost skipping in with a wide smile stretching between his cheeks.
'Fuck, I ain't in the mood ta deal with-'
"G'morning, Raphie- er, uh... Good afternoon?" The orange-banded turtle's smile morphed into a grin as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Hope you slept well! Man, I was beginning to think you'd just sleep the day away. Give a bro a heart attack, why don't ya! I mean, sheesh!" His loud tone and animated body language spoke of his energy, but the tired gleam in his eyes depicted a notable lack of sleep. For him to be so zealous and active after staying up all night, he was surely tapping into his reserves to keep up the peppy attitude.
But Raph was too preoccupied to take note of that; his focus rested on the haunting message sent to him by the neon numbers of the digital clock. "Why the fuck didn't anyone wake me up?" Raph grumbled, the events of the previous night eluding him as he focused on the here-and-now. And right now, his concern was the time.
Tick-tock.
Seconds, minutes, and hours.
Too many hours.
Tick. Tock. Tick, Tock.
A pendulum. A metronome. Some rhythmic ticking that sounded in Raph's head, offering him a sense of dread and forebode.
His breath came in more sharply and out twice as fast, unsteady, nerves fraying. In fear, or frustration, or something else. There was no definitive label for the white hot volcanic emotions that threatened to blow their top. All Raphael knew for certain, was that his body was betraying his better judgement and surrendering to a carnal surge within.
In his head: Tick-tock. Tick-tock. His mind trying to warn him.
In his chest: Thuh-duhn, bah-bump. His heart beating frantically.
He could feel a small tremor course through his body, but he fought down the sensation.
Stress was egging him on, pushing him in a direction he didn't want to be in.
He needed to calm down. Deep breaths. He needed to let go of the worry, center his thoughts, and blank everything else.
Under many circumstances, this would be simple enough, but at the moment, even breathing was difficult. Thinking hurt. The only thought he could fully register without a shooting pain running rampant through his skull was that it was ten kinds of taboo, being away from Central at this hour.
'Shredda's gonna be so pissed. He's still a bit sore from the last time I came in late, and last night, I didn't come back at all! Fuck, what was I thinkin'?! Dammit, dammit, dammit, da-'
Unaware of his brother's plight, Mikey gave a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders, averting his gaze and trying to play it off as something casual. "Sorry, bro. Guess I should've got you up for breakfast, huh? I mean, yeah, I tried, but you wouldn't budge! I even made Donnie come and check on you because I thought you might have slipped into a coma! Pizza overdose, haha!" The tension felt by the young turtle was obvious, but he still managed a small laugh in an attempt to maintain his jovial persona.
Only capable of primarily focusing on the late hour, Raph drew himself to full height and twisted his face into an expression of abhorrence. He pointed towards the window and barked: "See how fuckin' bright it is outside? I shoulda been gone hours ago. And here you are, talkin' about breakfast. Typical Michelangelo, thinkin' with yer stomach..." The words came too easy, taking absolutely no thought. Insults. Snarky tones and a harsh bite behind the verbal lashing. But the moment the words left his mouth, his head seemed to clear. He backpedaled until he felt his calves bump the couch behind him. Guilt flooded him instantaneously; he hadn't meant what he said; the word-vomit had come without his consent. Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath and prepared an apology, but the words wouldn't come, stuck at the tip of his tongue like flies on sticky paper.
Standing before him, Mikey's eyes were wide and fighting to dam up the waterworks. "I just thought... " His words trailed off as he continued to stare at his older brother. A sudden realization came over him, and he acted on it. With his tears effectively suppressed, the young turtle feigned the emotion he nurtured in his brother's absence. He made a conscious effort to straighten his own posture, square his shoulders, slide his feet apart for better balance, and then curl his hands into fists, perfectly mimicking Raphael's own stance. Then, almost empowered by the offensive position, Mikey found his voice, firm and assertive as he said: "You don't mean that. None of it. I can see it in your eyes, bro. I know that look. That's the 'Oh, shit, I'm sorry' look."
Conflicted but unyielding, Raph stared at his younger brother. "Michelan-"
"It's Mikey, Raph. Call me Mikey. And, it's okay. I forgive you. For everything." As his words concluded, Michelangelo watched his brother's face smooth out while trepidation faded. Only when he was certain the dynamics of his words were fully processed did he move forward and wrap his arms around Raph in a careful hug. "Family means that forgiveness will always be given, even if it isn't asked. Raphie, you're family. We'll all forgive you, no matter what. But, this time, we're the ones who messed up. So, can you forgive us?" Pulling away from the one-sided hug Mike looked at Raph to gauge his reaction.
And Raph gave a small sad smile, aggression abated. "Ya got it all wrong," he said, voice soft and all traces of the pending explosion gone, melted away like ice cream in the summertime. "Ya guys messed up, yeah, but that ain't why I left."
Hearing this, Mike's heart thumped a little harder in anticipation. He and the others all had their own theories, but none of them suspected that Raph might volunteer an answer of his own. Taking this as his chance to find out, he prompted: "Raphie, why did you leave?" He had to ask. He had to know. He had to find out. Directly from Raphael, dammit, Mikey was going to get the answer to the question that had been plaguing them all for months.
Then... "It was me who messed up."
Michelangelo visibly deflated. Because, he should have expected that. In fact, it was so expected, so Raph-like, that he had to clench his teeth and tighten his jaw to keep from laughing. Because it was funny, in a way, that after all this time, despite the obvious changes, Raphael was still the same turtle with the same expected responses: the self-proclaimed martyr.
"Ya gotta understand, it wasn't gonna be like this, Michelangelo."
"Mikey," the orange-banded sibling tried to correct, but his correction was ignored as the older pressed on.
"I was gonna come back. I wanted to, but-" Raph's sentence came to a grinding halt as his eyes flickered to the doorway, catching movement.
The blue-masked ninja's entrance was silent as per usual, but for how quickly Raphael took notice, a herd of elephants might as well have run a stampede through the room. Leo's own set of steel-colored eyes caught sight of his younger brothers, and he gave a respectable nod in place of a proper greeting as he bypassed the two in favor of obtaining a pen from the fireplace mantle. When the others shot him an inquisitive glance, he gestured to the writing utensil and explained: "April asked for it."
Raphael visibly tensed, his mind conjuring up images of an injured rookie Foot allegedly attacked by the human female some time ago. His mind still struggled to wrap around imagery, but there was nothing to negate it. With a hardened glare, he couldn't help asking, "April? She's here?"
Unaware of Raph's additional discontent, Mikey smiled broadly and replied. "Yeah, bro, it's her apartment, and she's been back for, like, forever."
"She got in two hours after you fell asleep," Leo amended. "After giving a few interviews at last night's charity event, she wanted to write a few notes, and Don offered to help check the validity of collected statements from corporal advisers." He held up the pen to punctuate his statement. With that, he took a few steps towards the doorway, stopping halfway there and looking over his shoulder at his siblings. "Oh, and Raph, Casey went to his place and will be back shortly. He said he needed to pick up something for you. When he returns, he's also supposed to bring you a visitor."
Curiosity piqued, Raphael couldn't help the query. "Casey got me something? Like, a present? That bonehead," he said, but the small smirk was unmistakable. "And, what's dis about a visitor?"
Leo caught Raph's expression and returned it with a smirk of his own. "The visitor, I believe his name is Carl."
Raph's expression turned to one of confusion. "Doesn't ring a bell."
Mikey, seeing an opportunity, butted in, clapping a hand against his unmasked brother's shell before chiming in, "Oh, you know Carl! Big Carl, the construction worker. Looks kinda like this!" He held his arms away from his body to simulate added girth and puffed out his cheeks. Then he took a few waddling steps. "Big Carl! Looks like a beach ball with hands and feet!"
"Mikey!" Leo chastised, turning to fully face his youngest brother. "Don't insult him; he's a friend of Raph's."
"He's a friend of McDonald's!" Mikey countered. "And Taco Bell. And KFC. And Wendy's. And-"
"He is a dignified worker with a slight weight problem!"
"Yeah, as in... he doesn't wait to eat! In fact, he probably skips the process of cooking a burger and just eats the kangaroo!"
"Mikey, burger is beef, which is from cows."
"Not the kind they serve around here, bro! Look it up! They totally do kangaroo meat as a substitution; it's cheaper, and no one knows the difference!"
Raph stood and watched the back and forth between the eldest and youngest turtle. He chuckled at their antics before raising his own voice above theirs. "So, his name was Carl? I called him Hobo-Joe. He's comin'?"
Blinking awkwardly and pulling himself from the joke of an argument, Leo gave a nod and cleared his throat. "Yeah, Casey's bringing him over. If you'd like, we could even make another night of it, but I would have to inform Master Splinter so that he doesn't worry. And of course, we could always order more pizz-"
"CARL WILL EAT ALL THE PIZZA!" Mikey whined loudly, pressing both hands to the sides of his face in a spontaneous imitation of Macaulay Culkin.
It was Raph who cut in then. "Hey, don't be puttin' the cart before the horse; I won't be stayin' another night." But his words seemingly went unheard as Leo once again jumped in to stop Mikey's unnecessary rudeness towards the pending guest.
Their back and forth continued for several little trades of reason and nonsense, and ultimately, Leo gave in. "Fine, Mikey. Get all the teasing out of your system now, because if you behave ill towards Raph's friend, you will be making a solo trek back to the Lair and remain there until I say otherwise."
"Pffft, you wouldn't do that to me, bro," Mike responded without missing a beat. "You know I have terrible Raphie-withdrawals, and I'm still recovering!" As if to prove a point, he pounced at the emerald-skinned turtle and wrapped his arms around him tightly. He pressed his beak to Raph's cheek in a poor imitation of a human's kiss before pulling back and saying: "Oh, behave, baby" in his best Austin Powers' voice.
Caught off guard by the sudden attack, Raph's balance was compromised and he found himself sandwiched between his high-spirited sibling and the sofa. His face was scrunched up in distaste as he fought to quell the momentary swell of aggravation. With a forced air of calm, he carefully removed the younger reptile from himself. Then, when he spoke, he made sure his voice was loud and clear, leaving no room for question or misunderstanding. "Guys, I said I'd come fer pizza. I've done that and more. It's been fun, but I ain't stayin' any longer than I have to. I'll stay ta get Casey's present, and I'll see Hobo-Joe, but then I gotta split."
Michelangelo fidgeted but remained wordless; his jovial mood suddenly evaporated.
Leo looked at Raphael with concern. "Raph, it's early in the afternoon. The sun is out. There's no way you can-"
Raph's iridium gaze connected with Leo's own brotherly stare. "If ya gonna try and boss me around, now ain't the time ta do it, Fearless. I ain't an idiot. I ain't gonna do nothin' stupid. But if I say I gotta go, I'm gonna go. And if anyone tries ta stop me-"
"Raph. Listen to me. I promise, no one is going to stop you if you need to go." Leo moved in, deciding it would be best to speak in closer quarters. His voice both calm and sincere, he continued. "We're not trying to trick you or trap you. You're our brother; we care about you. We just want you to be safe and happy." His eyes, two pools of pent up emotion behind a pane of glass, he held his brother's stare. "We'll give you space. We'll let you do whatever you need to. But I have one favor to ask, and that is all." He drew a deep breath through his nostrils before finalizing: "When you were gone, we had no way of knowing if you were okay, if you were cold or hungry, or even if you were alive. Raph, that hurt more than you can possibly imagine. It affected all of us. All I'm asking of you, is for some kind of contact. A visit. A phone call. A letter. Some sign that you're alright..."
"We can patrol the city together," Mikey added, voice oddly quiet, hopeful, almost desperate.
Raph's gaze found the floor, and for the longest moment he was silent. Then, "I'll think about it," was the only answer he gave before he glanced at the coffee table, grabbed up the remote, and moved to get more comfortable on he sofa, turning on the television and flicking through the channels. When he realized that both of his brothers were staring, he rolled his eyes and snapped: "Well, I'm gonna be here fer a while, ain't I? Fearless, get the pen ta April. Knucklehead, I think ya said somethin' about food." Flipping through channels with one hand, he rapped the knuckles of his other hand against the abdominal plates of his plastron. "Kinda hungry. Got anything good?"
"Cereal!" Mikey piped cheerfully. "Dude, bro, man, trust me! I can cook if you want, but I bet you haven't had your favorite cereal in, like, months. We got the sugary kind, and it's got a prize inside and everything!"
...
[NOTE: I enjoy and support TCEST, but as I've said, this story will contain none of that. The kiss Mikey planted on Raph's cheek is, more or less, loosely inspired by the infamous 'I-Kissed-My-Sister' Star Wars moment. -Next chapter is In-Progress.]