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: Here we go. Raph-time. And Leo-time. W00t!
Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.
...
CH 53
[Raph]
The world of consciousness was a strange thing, and Raphael definitely preferred to have a clear head when he could afford it.
He talked to Perry when prompted, allowed himself to be examined and small vials of blood to be drawn, accepting whatever jargon-laced excuse was provided. And he found himself attentive and alert when his human-master graced him with his presence.
The blindfold hardly seemed a punishment at all- at least, until he needed to go to the bathroom...
'Easy enough,' he thought to himself without a hint of stress or modesty. Off the bed, find the door, exit. Down the hall. Make a left, right, left, and- 'Aaand, now I'm lost.'
Huffing with indignation, he reluctantly held out his hands- a universal sign of someone seeking help... or preparing to play the role of a zombie. Either way, his arms were outstretched, feeling for the nearest wall. Once he planted his palm against the solid surface, he felt a little better, more secure.
Sliding his hand along the wall, he made his way from one side of the hall to the other, pausing once he found himself in front of a door. Standing outside it, he listened carefully, hoping the sounds inside would give him an indication of which room it was- ergo, let him know exactly where he was.
Unfortunately, no sound turned up.
Feeling for a knob and finding it, he gave a twist and pulled the door open, stepping inside without hesitation.
"Hello?" He called out in greeting, stilling his breath to listen afterwards. "I'm, uhh..." he trailed off awkwardly, unsure of what to say, or whom he was even speaking to.
What would he say?
He had to piss. Having to hold his bladder over the circumstance was starting to piss him off, but he quelled the pending aggression and tempted the frailty of his patience.
Thankfully, in that instance, a voice reached his ear slits, and the words were awing.
"Bathroom's out the door, down the hall- about twelve paces to the right."
Sighing with relief, Raph muttered his thanks and exited through the door, turning right and counting his paces.
'Twelve paces ta the right. -Seven, eight, ni-'
But on his ninth step, he found himself colliding face-first with a very unforgiving wall.
"Aw, fuck it!" he cursed, annoyed, pride wounded when his ear slits were assaulted with a barrage of snickering. "Immature fuckers," he barked at the teens who dared mock him. He crushed his hands into fists, preparing to fight anyone he could get his hands on. Blind or not, he was a badass fuckin' ninja, and he didn't have to take their shit.
He'd just reared back, preparing to strike, when another voice reached him; this one soft, easily washing over his burning anger with a calm, cool innocence.
That voice, a child's voice, carried only one word. But that one word was enough to halt Raphael in his tracks.
"Raffle?"
Taking a deep breath, filling his lungs to their maximum capacity, Raphael held it for several seconds before releasing it with a slow, steady exhale. "Timothy? Wha'cha doin' here?" he questioned airily.
"I could be askin' you the same thing, Raffle." Timothy quipped. "You're interruptin' my reading lesson." With that, the kid paused, cupping his hand beside his mouth and whispering loudly- as if he were telling a secret: "but that's okay; it's boooring anyways. I'd rather see you, Raffle!"
A second later, Raphael felt his hand grabbed between two smaller ones; then, he felt his hand touch hair and skin- and it didn't take a genius to realize that young Timothy was offering a sightless Raphael a chance to feel his features.
More out of curiosity than necessity, Raphael humored the kid, first feeling up the loose strands of hair, then moving down to the rounded chin. Then, up to the soft pouty lips and chubby cheeks. Then to the small upturned nose. Then- fabric.
'What the fuck?'
His hand stilled, touching a band of fabric where he should have found a set of eyes.
"Kid..." he addressed, voice soft and tone questioning.
Timothy obliged an answer without missing a beat. "I decided I wanna be just like you, Raffle," he said simply. "Got my fingers taped, and I can even eat and write like that. It's not too hard. I go through a whole lotta tape though. And, like, ummmm, when I knew you got in trouble and had to wear a blindfold-thingy, I decided I wanted one. It looked cool."
"Timothy..."
"I just took an old pillow case and cut a long strip. Then tied it on. But I couldn't see, and I still had my reading lessons. So, I cut holes to see out of. So... it's not really a blindfold, Raffle. It's more of a-"
"Mask," Raphael finished, lips forming a taut line. He slowly drew his hand away from the child and pressed it to his own head in a vain attempt to ease an oncoming headache. "Ya don't wanna be like me, kid."
"Yeah-huh," young Timothy argued with a sudden burst of determination and unwavering confidence. "You do a lot of good things. And you never quit on anything. You're big and strong, and really, super, amazingly cool. And, when I grow up to be mutant ninja, we can both save the city together. Won't that be cool?"
Squinting his eyes shut tight beneath the fabric, Raph felt his chest tighten, and he could almost visualize his heart breaking a little.
He knelt down in front of the child and reached out, drawing Timothy into his arms and pulling him close, hugging him.
Then...
"Kid, I need ya ta listen, and listen good. Ya don't wanna be like me. You only got half the story, and the rest of it is more like a horror-themed graphic novel. You've got this family-oriented bullshit half-tale, and it's muddling yer thoughts. Ya don't need that." Pulling the kid away from him, Raphael brought his hands up behind Timothy's head, finding the knot of the homemade mask and tugging it loose. Dropping the fabric, he lightly traced his fingers around the child's eyes. "I fuck up a lot. Hell, I say a lot of bad words, even when I'm censoring myself. I've hurt people... and I ain't proud of it. But you, Timmy- you've got your whole life ahead of ya. You can go to school. Get smart. Get a job and a family. And when you get a kid of yer own, you-"
"I'm gonna be a ninja like you, Raffle. Maybe even a mutant-ninja! And, if ya stop trying to bully me out of it, I'll show you to the bathroom."
...
[Leo]
Leonardo held his swords, unwilling to sheath them in the presence of a pending foe. He could barely feel the weighted pommels in his grip due to the chill that seemed to permeate his entire body, but muscle memory guided him into a perfect stance.
"Your mask is blue," spoke the black clad figure that stood several feet away, both hands held up to display their lack of weaponry. "Blue mask, means you're Leonardo."
Leo narrowed his eyes and gave a curt nod; there was no need to deny what so many already knew, but he was in no mood to indulge an enemy with conversation. He kept silent, observational, ready to strike if necessary.
"Your brother-"
"What of my brother?" the turtle cut in hastily, his stoic temperament demolished by circumstance.
"He died."
The moment the the grim statement had left the human's mouth, an attack was launched. In the blink of an eye, Leo had the human pinned beneath his body and the blade of a katana pressed against the soft delicate flesh of a throat.
...
[Next chapter is mid-outline.]