Work Text:
Sending off Leo was harder than Raphael expected. It made him realize that they’d never truly been apart before, and never for very long. The idea of Leo walking out and not knowing when he would come back made Raph’s throat uncomfortably tight. Having the pacific ocean between them for even a day would be too long.
Mikey cried. They all expected it, Mikey himself included, but it was more sincere and less dramatic than anticipated. He sniffled and tried to hold it together, but he burst into ugly sobs when Leo pulled him into a tight hug.
It was about nine PM. The sun had set to give Leo cover to get to the docks, find his ship, and position himself into a good hiding spot before they shoved off just after dawn. Raph had tried to convince him to let them come along, escort him to the docks just in case, but Leo was not having it. End of story. Instead, they were to see him off at the door. They gathered around him in the thickly uncomfortable atmosphere to say what they really couldn’t comprehend the gravity of: goodbye.
Leo gave Mikey an affectionate pat on the head, then moved down the line. Donnie stayed as stoic as he could, timidly offering a few anti-seasickness aids in case Leo should need them. He shuffled in place, looking at the ground as his eyes welled up with tears, and refused to break down even when Leo wrapped him in a hug. He thumped Donnie’s shell solidly, and moved on to Raphael.
Standing face-to-face with Leo, he wasn’t sure what to feel or think. There was some sort of intestine-and-emotion soup going on behind his plastron, his throat was still too tight to speak, and Leo’s eyes… His eyes, usually a warm brown full of emotion and promise, were glassy and dull. He looked awful, he clearly felt awful, and they were packing him up and sending him away. Would this really help? If it did help, would he ever come back? Maybe just the relief of not having three brothers to deal with would be so freeing to him that he simply never came back to pick up the pieces. Maybe he would be better off alone, but they wouldn’t be.
His stomach lurched when Leo stepped forward and tentatively hugged him. Raph threw his arms around his brother and held him tight, suddenly overcome with a desire to never let go, to protect his brother the same way he had protected them so many times over the years. But Leo was leaving, whether or not Raph wanted him to, and he pulled out of the hug just seconds later.
The eldest brother squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Raphael is in charge while I’m gone. Take—take care of yourselves.”
Raph’s jaw dropped. He was so surprised that he didn’t even say anything, even when Leo met his eyes and smiled—that sad sort of half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes, the only one he was capable of lately.
He took a breath to say something, don’t go, or maybe please don’t leave me in charge because I can’t handle that kind of pressure even though I used to think I wanted it, or some combination of both. Instead, he snapped his mouth shut and nodded. “You too, Fearless.”
And that’s all he could get out past the lump in his throat.
He said goodbye to Sensei last. Leaning on his cane, bandages on his head, he looked remarkably old and frail, and Raphael didn’t like that at all. He imagined Leo didn’t either. He bowed deeply before their master with perfect posture and every ounce of reverence he possessed, like he could apologize via gesture.
Splinter wordlessly stepped forward and took Leonardo’s chin in his bony paw. There were tears in his eyes as he looked up, then accepted the hug that Father offered him. And that’s what he was in that moment—their father, not their teacher.
Leo stepped into the doorway and hesitated on the threshold, looking back at them one more time. Then, without another word, he melted into the shadows of the sewer.
"Is he gonna be okay, Sensei?"
"Yes, Michelangelo. You needn't worry. And whenever any of you miss your brother, reach out to him through meditation. Strengthen his spirit whenever you can, for he will need it on the coming journey." Sensei nodded to himself, then turned and made for the kitchen.
Raphael felt dizzy.
Donnie left first, muttering about his latest updates to the Battle Shell. Mikey followed not long after and the sound of the TV filled the lair shortly thereafter. Only Raph remained, watching the closed door and trying to make sense of the emotions sloshing around inside him.
He was angry, really, and what’s new there? He was angry that Splinter was sending Leo to the other side of the globe to deal with an anger problem that he had to conquer on his own. He was angry that Leo let himself get so angry in the first place, he was angry that he hurt Splinter, he was angry that he was leaving them behind. But underneath all that anger, there was a bitter sadness. His brother had never looked so old, or so hopeless. It was as if all the color had been drained out of him overnight and replaced with misery. He hated it for Leo, and he hated Leo for it.
He finally turned away from the door and marched into the kitchen, where Master Splinter sat with a cup of tea and a newspaper April brought by the night before. He sat down at the table and waited.
"Almost finished," he said absently. After a moment more of reading, Sensei folded the paper and gave his son his full attention. "Leonardo will be safe and back before—"
"That ain't it, Sensei."
He blinked. "Oh. Then what troubles you?"
Raph sighed, trying to find the right words. He just had to say it. "Why didn't you ever get me any kinda help? I mean, it seems like every time Leo has an issue, we gotta reinvent the wheel to figure out how to fix it." He waved his hands around in a few big gestures as he spoke, then dropped them back to his lap. "But when I was so angry I couldn't stop hurtin' my brothers, you didn't do anything." He clenched his fists under the table. "Ya told me to meditate."
Splinter's ears had folded back flat against his head. "My son... I'm sorry."
Raph's brow furrowed deeper. That was not the expected reply.
"I had my reasons. You were younger, then, and...I thought I could guide you through the anger. I do wish for all my worth that I'd helped you more, Raphael, but I cannot change what has passed. I can explain my reasoning for sending your brother now, if that would ease your troubles."
He shrugged.
Splinter sighed and adjusted in his chair, making the old wood squeak. "Your anger came from a place of powerlessness and youth, hurts that only time can resolve. Leonardo's troubles are darker—he carries a wound from our final battle with the Shredder that time cannot heal. If he wishes to move on from this darkness which has made home inside of him, he will have to face that wound head on."
"And he needs to go all the way to Japan for that?"
"He is going because he has become a danger to our family," Splinter said firmly. Raphael looked up and found a very determined, if tired, expression on his father's face. "I believed in you and your power to overcome your demons. I had similar faith in your brother...but he has proven that it was misplaced. While you may perceive him as patient, he does not have your self-control, Raphael. There is…a darkness inside him. When this thin thread of reason snaps, he will do something rash, and he will spend his entire life regretting it."
"Somethin' like slashing you with a sword?”
Splinter touched his bandages thoughtfully. "Something far worse. Leonardo needs help that we cannot give him, for all our efforts. That is why I sent him away."
Raphael was quiet for a moment, staring down at his hands. "So I didn't need help?"
"I did not know how to help you, my son. I'm glad that despite my lack of interference, you were able to help yourself to this point of stability. I never meant to show favor to your brother over you, I simply learned from the mistakes I have made before."
His fists clenched harder—the skin on his knuckles stretched painfully and the muscles trembled. He didn't begrudge Leo to have this father who better understood anger, but he wished he had that father. He wished he didn't have to be the one that taught him those skills.
Raphael stood suddenly, took a brief look at Splinter's saddened face, and rushed to leave the kitchen. Then he went out the sewer door, through the maze of tunnels he knew like the back of his own hands, running and running until the burning in his lungs was caused by the exertion instead of anger.
He slowed to a stop in a familiar drainage junction. Rusted catwalks stretched across the wide basin, and the roar of water drowned out the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. It was raining, up above. The sewers only got like this when it rained. He was briefly tempted to go up and let the summer rain soak him to the bone, see if it would clear his mind a bit, but he immediately knew that Leo would have his shell for being up there when he was so distracted and vulnerable. And then he remembered that Leo wasn't even there to admonish him.
He turned on his heel and punched the brick wall of the sewer with a broken cry of anger. Something cracked—and it wasn’t the bricks.
There was an orange flash in the corner of his eye, and he looked over sharply in time to catch a shadow lurking in the tunnel he’d entered from.
"Go away Mikey!" He shouted to be heard over the water. "I don't feel like talkin'." He turned from the tunnel entrance and trudged a few paces away before gingerly relaxing his clenched fist. His knuckles were raw and bloody, but there was no screaming pain when he flexed the muscles and tendons in his hand. Nothing broken, thankfully.
Mikey touched his shoulder ever so slightly as he came around to stand in front of him. His brow was knit at the center, giving him lines and creases too deep and too earnest for someone his age. Looking at him, it was difficult for Raphael to hold onto his anger.
“You don’t hafta talk. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
He cast his brother a confused and doubtful glance.
Mikey reached slowly for his fist, trembling and bleeding while resting in his other hand, and slowly took it into his own hands. He flipped it over knuckle-side up and fussed over the busted skin. “Leo’s the one who always knows where you are. I was worried that if one of us didn’t follow you…” He shrugged.
The anger drained out of Raph just like that. “Knucklehead. I ain’t walkin’ out on ya.”
“Just needed to clear your head?”
He nodded.
Mikey released his hand and took a step back. “Upset about Leo?”
He hesitated, but eventually gave in and nodded to that too.
“Yeah, I know. It’s only been, like, an hour and I already don’t like it.”
“He might not’a even made it to the docks yet.” Raph had a flash of a fantasy play out before him—running across town in the rain to catch Leo before he could leave, begging him to come back, promising to find some way to make him happy again without having to sail halfway across the world. But it was just a fantasy, and it left him feeling hollow.
Mikey settled down to sit on a concrete ledge and peered up at him innocently. “You sure you don’t wanna talk about it bro?”
He thought about it for a moment, then grumbled low in his chest. It shook his bones. “Wouldn’t do any good anyway. Just leave it, Mike.”
He stood at the edge of the basin for a while, watching the water rush by and letting the white noise blot out the rest of the anger. His hand ached. Maybe something was broken in there, after all.
When he no longer felt like punching the walls, he went and sat down beside Mikey. After the rush of anger and adrenaline, his body was heavy and tired. It had been a long day, what with Leo’s departure hovering over them like a storm cloud all the while.
Mikey again took his bleeding hand into his own and gently brushed his thumb over one of the wounds. “Y’know,” he said softly, “there’s more than one way to self-harm.”
Raph jolted like he’d been punched.
“I hate it when you hurt yourself. You and Leo, always punishing yourselves over nothing. So what, you’re mad that Leo left? Just say it! I’m angry too!”
“I—I’m sorry, Mikey, I didn’t…”
No, he did. He did know. Mikey was always the one to come after him when they were kids. And when they were older, started training, he always brought bandages with him because Raphael would punch the bag until he left bloody prints on it with each blow. No one ever said anything about it except Sensei and Mikey, who was always there to gently wash off the blood and put an embarrassingly sincere kiss over the band-aid when he was done.
“I’m angry.” Raph's voice cracked and broke on the word. He pressed his free hand over his eyes as they started to burn. “I’m sorry. I keep feelin’ like I’ve got it all under control, then somethin’ like this…”
“I know.”
“I don’t know what I’m ‘sposed to do about it. Leo got mad and Pop’s sending him off on a field trip, I get mad and I get extra homework, extra chores. It’s not fair.” He felt like a child, sitting there complaining about fair while his brother literally held his hand.
“Why don’t you ever say anything about it?”
He laughed humorlessly. “Don’t see much of a point in it.”
They sat in silence a long while, Raph holding his face in his hand and Mikey cradling the injured fist. They sat until they ached from the unforgiving concrete and their skin grew cold. He would have sat there all night, maybe, just reveling in the numbness of it all, if not for Mikey.
“Aren’t you hungry? Bro, we skipped dinner, I’m hungry.”
Raph chuckled. “Yeah, me too. Let’s go.”
The walk back to the lair was much longer than the frantic run he’d taken to get there. Raph’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw the clock as they entered—nearly midnight.
As the hydraulics of the door gently hissed behind them, Two sets of feet hit the floor. Both Donnie and Master Splinter stood, anxiously looking toward them. Donnie’s shoulders sagged with relief.
“Take your shell-cells next time, guys. We didn’t know where you were.”
Mikey threw on a goofy grin, holding Raph’s hand with both of his own and effectively covering the injury. “Sorry D-Man, mine’s dead someplace.”
Donnie groaned, muttered some about the care and maintenance of lithium-ion batteries, then threw in the towel on the whole thing. “I’m glad you’re not dead, I’m going to sleep.”
Mikey kept moving right along, dragging Raph with him, as Splinter watched. Once they were up the stairs and out of Sensei’s sight, Mikey guided him into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Raph was directed to sit and be a good patient while Mikey gently washed blood and brick-dust and sewer-funk out of the wounds, then put a different colored band-aid over each busted knuckle. Unicorns on one, flowers with smiley faces on the other.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was a punishment,” he said flatly.
Mikey smiled, the perfect picture of innocence. “Don’t be silly, Raphie, I’ve got way better tricks up my sleeve.”
Once the antibacterial ointment was put away and the tiny strips of band-aid paper made it safely in the bin, Mikey leaned his shell against the wall and crossed his arms.
“You gonna be okay, bro?”
He rubbed his neck, looking down at the tile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
“If it matters, I don’t think Sensei ever meant to ignore your issues. He knows you struggle, he just doesn’t know how to help.” He paused. “He and Leo are more alike. I think that helps him understand.”
“Yeah.”
Mikey sighed and knelt down beside him. “You wanna try talking next time, instead of punching walls?”
“No promises.”
Mikey jostled him and straightened. “Ahh, there’s the Raph I know. C’mon bro, let’s get some dinner and then hit the hay. You know what Don says—your problems always look smaller in the morning.”
Raph grunted agreement and followed after his brother.
In the hallway, Mikey stopped him with a loose grip on his wrist and pulled him back to wrap him up in a tight hug, going so far as to nuzzle his snout against Raph’s neck.
He couldn’t help a gentle laugh. He rubbed his hand across the back of Mike’s head and returned the nuzzle. “Yer a clingy little brat, aren’cha?”
In the next second, Mikey was shoving his shoulder hard enough that he stumbled a step sideways. “Race ya to the kitchen!”
They both took off, feet pounding on the tile.