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: My humblest apologies for taking so long and producing so little. Life caught up with me, and I've taken on a lot of personal projects.
Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.
...
CH 52
[Leo]
It was undeniably cold; the rain poured down like thick liquid bullets. Bone-chillingly cold. The perfect setting for pending pneumonia. But one turtle didn't notice the icy blast of air between the unforgiving sprays of water that seemingly fell in sheets. Shielded by a worn old coat and nothing more, he had an overwhelming compulsion to stand, back to the wind, feet planted firmly on the rooftop, eyes searching through the dark wetness that engulfed him bodily.
Waiting. Oh, how he hated waiting, especially now, but it was all he could do. No amount of planning could permit him to do otherwise.
His resolve was firm, stubborn. He would wait. Outwardly, he appeared composed, determined: a turtle made of steel; but on the inside, a choke-worthy panic flared. Panic for his rogue brother's well-being. Because, something inside felt wrong. Something deep and unexplainable within him was shooting off signals, warning bells, foretelling of something downright horrific.
And, having no idea what could be wrong, he couldn't even begin to counteract whatever disaster was in store.
There was only so much planning he could do to face the unknown.
And right now, the only thing he knew for sure was that something felt off kilter.
His chest ached with a foreign sensation that demanded attention, but- 'But what can I do? I can't keep the team together. I can't keep my brothers safe.'
Not knowing what else to do, Leo took a deep breath, drawing it deep into his lungs, and continued to ignore the icy chill in the air. Fortunately, an almost comfortable numbness had begun to set in, and he couldn't even feel the rain anymore. He could only hear it. The rapid-fire of thousands of drips hitting concrete and splashing its way into puddles. The distant thunder. The muted sounds of the living city around him, mostly drowned out by the white noise created by the weather.
The neon lights against the drizzle... it could almost be poetic in its beauty: nature against artificial ambiance.
But poetry was the last thing on this turtle's mind as he tried to discern the strange hollow feeling that had burrowed into his very core.
For a moment, he considered meditation. It could help, to find his center and sort through his thoughts.
In fact, the more he thought about it, the better it sounded.
'Maybe I could find and reach Raph on the Astral Plane... Then, my worries would be eased at least a little.'
The thought was there, and it was sounding better and better with each passing moment.
And, perhaps he would have carried out that course of action, if not for a lone black-clad figure approaching.
-Even with his senses dulled from stress and the raging storm that had formed, Leo was more than capable of sensing the presence of the oncoming ninja, and he had his swords drawn without a second thought.
'Meditation will have to wait.'
Leo quickly assessed his opponent and the pending threat, strategically keeping his distance. Ideally, if his foe opted to attack first, the turtle could gauge speed and possibly pick up on technique and fighting style- at least, that would be his intent if said foe had been armed.
If said foe had made a move toward him.
If said foe had done anything other than what he actually did do.
Instead of going along with any of Leo's expectations, the black-clad figure raised both hands, palms facing outward in a universal gesture of peace before saying: "Turtle, we need to talk."
...
[Raph]
He couldn't be sure how much time had passed. He stopped counting; then again, he'd never really started. If he bothered to think about it, math just pissed him off. Numbers were math. Time was the evolution of numbers on a compulsory cycle. Thus, time... could go fuck itself sideways with a lead pipe for all Raph cared.
'Yeah, that'd be fuckin' hilarious. See a big fat number 5 impalin' itself on a number 1. Heh, that's fucked up. Literally.' The emerald-skinned turtle's humor was dry and twisted, but he couldn't recall a time it was anything but.
Still, time- an existing factor on an infinitely evolutionary production line...
Minutes turned to hours, seconds breached the depths of infinity, and somewhere in the middle of it all, time itself collapsed inward and lost meaning.
'Fuck it all. Twice.'
One would think this to be a maddening experience- something to take the horrors of the mind and stretch them into something far more sinister.
A carnival attraction-
Come one, come all- to the Greatest Show on Earth!
-except, it wasn't.
In spite of time's new abstraction, imaginary horrors did not grow in length or morph into something akin to paranoia. Quite the opposite, in fact. Being blinded allowed Raphael to focus more on what was around him, while being unblinded afforded him the luxury and the distraction of whatever fell in line with his sight.
With his sight nullified, he was able to hyper-focus on the vibrations in the air; the way the atmosphere shifted differently for each person that entered the Infirmary.
While he could easily recognize someone's face with or without a mask, he was starting to learn them by scent and aura: their natural pulse.
Apart from the fabric being uncomfortable, he honestly didn't mind the alleged punishment; the idea was more nerve-wracking than the actual serving, and he considered himself adaptable; he could handle a little temporary blindness.
And, if worse came to worst, he could always remove the blind; he knew this, and there was a comfort in that fact: his ability, reliable and pragmatic... Though, with a degree of respect, he steadfastly treated the simple cloth like something inescapable. A straightjacket for his primary sense.
-For the most part, life continued to be his definition of normal. -Well, as normal as it could be at the moment.
Because, the truth of the matter was, dying sucked. Majorly. Worse than piss-warm beer. Just... terrible.
And while the details were still sketchy at best, there was no doubting that Raphael's life had been depleted prior to his revival.
His own very real HP gauge, emptied.
Had this been a game, his character might have been awarded a fantastic cutscene depicting valiant effort and an admirable death on the battle field... but in reality, he died on a lumpy bed in a too-white Infirmary, shut down by anxiety and something internal he couldn't quite grasp.
If he thought hard on it, he could picture that internal struggle. Two turtles. Both with emerald skin. One lean and toned, unmasked, immaculately unscarred. The other, large, almost mountainous, with jagged teeth and claws, and a brilliant red mask that looked perfectly complimentary...
If he thought hard on it, he could imagine a power-struggle of naivete and cynicism.
And while the darker, more vicious of the two easily dominated the fight, the smaller of the two stubbornly refused to give in.
If Raphael thought hard on it, he might consider that both entities in his mind were part of himself. Part of who he was. A divided set of extremities... but Raphael hated thinking.
Thinking is what drew him into this predicament. Thinking was the factor that pulled him out of the imaginary safety net he'd let himself drop into.
His mind was full of poison. His mind was the very thing that had taken his life, and if not for the decree of his human-master and the aid of the medical staff, he might not-
'Might not be alive any more.' It was a frightening thought... but it was one that he couldn't disregard.
Shredder was the only reason for him to remain among the world of the living. And, considering the alternative, he was grateful.
...
[Next chapter is on the way.]