Archive of Our Own

Raph was always a fighter.

He preferred the upfront approach, beating the bad guy into submission until they rue the day that they went out and started doing bad stuff. Maybe he shouldn't be cool with that, but he found that he was, and that never made any difference when it came to how others felt when doing the same.

Donnie had told him that it should. That the separation between good and bad should have a line. So you can beat people up, whoever you want, and it's all sunshine and rainbows? But- what, other people can't? What makes you any better than them?

He didn't actually mean it. He was teasing.

But it still crossed Raph's mind now and again.

He's not any better than they are. At least, he'd never claim to be.

Not when it comes to this specific topic.

He's just better in every other way.

Usually, better. When his leg doesn't have a bullet in it and his brother isn't bleeding down the side of his head

The cops had come out of nowhere.

They'd been intending to surround the gang, but they'd caught their city's vigilantes in the crossfire. Leo had gotten Mikey out before their exit was cut off. Donnie had thought on his feet and pointed out a cracked window. They shattered it and hopped through. 

Raph managed to get Donnie out of the alley before a cop turned the corner. He must've only seen his shadow because his expression didn’t change when he looked right at Raph and fired a shot.

He'd said the cheesy "freeze!" beforehand. Raph was never one to obey authority. And Raph doesn't blame him for trying to stop one of those nutcases from getting free. He'd have done the same.

Donnie panicked at the gunfire, circled back when he didn't immediately appear. The cop fired again.

He missed, but only because his brother was a ninja, and Donnie had reared away so fast that the back of his head slammed into one of the shadowy, back-alley objects. Something metal by the sounds of it. His brother was adaptive, got right back up and grabbed Raph.

They were close to the docks. They wouldn't be able to make it far, but they managed to make it there.

They ended up in one of the upper containers. Donnie slammed the door shut, scrambling to the end. The cops had followed them, "at least two cars," he’d said in his anxious, high voice. Raph had shoved a hand over his mouth- his voice was echoing all around them. He could hear the cops running around outside. This was not the time to be loud.

It wasn't the time to apply any force to his brother's head either. He found that out when Donnie keeled over a second after he touched him, hitting his elbows with a reverberating bam.

He didn't get back up.

Not because he was unconscious, thank everything. But he was definitely down, on his side and staring at nothing, breathing like each one was a manual task. He'd been crouched in front of Raph, so his new position left him further to the left. Raph dragged himself over to his face, ignoring the angry spikes up his leg. 

He must have said sorry sixty times. It was under his breath, rapid spurts as he heard one of the cops again, a muffled sound outside their hiding place. Or perhaps their own homemade gift box. 

He finally manages to stop talking, in time to hear the soft drops of blood leaving his brother's head and puddling on the ground next to him. He thinks it's a good thing there's more coming from his leg than his brother's skull. The smell makes him want to vomit.

They didn't have time to wrap anything while running, but he takes the time now, ripping wraps from his sweaty hands and using them on his brother. Maybe not the most sanitary, but if he has to listen to another drop on nearly formed liquid, he might actually lose his Mexican pizza.

Then he goes for his leg, because he's certain there's already a trail, but he's not going to leave another one when they get out. 

The shout is closer this time. Donnie's head whips towards it, and then his left arm gives out, choking on a pained cry when he goes down. Raph basically jumps him, half afraid the movement was some intent to leave when he's in no state to do anything of the kind.

"Stop, stop, quit," He says, draped over his brother, trying to catch his eyes. They're completely blown, unsettling to look at. "It's okay. We're good. Everything's going to be fine." 

Donnie still tries to push himself up, so Raph pulls back to get a proper hold on his arms when he rises, maybe tighter than it needs to be to keep him steady. He's not risking anything. "I said stop, you idiot." 

Donnie's body is quivering. He tries to look at the door. The brief turn of his head has his eyes squeezed shut. He lets go of some of his weight, dropping forward. Raph helps him down, situating his head on his shoulder and bringing an arm around his carapace. Donnie's breathes sound wheezy, like they keep getting caught.

He doesn't know if it's from the terror or the wound.

"The guys are going to be here any minute," He lies through his teeth, whisper fading before it can make its way over to the door. More shouting from below. "Then we're going to go home. Just gotta stay calm until then." 

One of Donnie's hands finds his plastron, pushing against it.

"No, no, no," Raph snaps, holding strong. His leg hurts more when his body tenses, but he's going to get himself caught like this. "I can see the door. I can see it. Nobody's getting in here. Don't look, don't try. Listen to me, listen."

"R-Rahh-" 

"Too loud, too loud," He hissed in his whisper. "Just stop, for two minutes. Two minutes, let me listen."

Donnie makes a soft, confused noise, and Raph wonders if he even knows what Raph's listening for or why they're here. 

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," He swears, like he would on his deathbed. "No one's gonna touch you, both of us. You did good, little brother. You got us safe- you did it."

Donnie wraps his arms around him. Raph returns the favor with his other one, trying to change his direction. This is what they're doing. Just hugging, not going anywhere, not doing anything else.

More shouting, a greater distance. Raph can feel his heart thudding behind his plastron, never taking his eyes off the door. Every time Donnie seems to gain some life, Raph holds him tighter and promises things that he can't guarantee until his little brother settles again. 

Then the door is opening, and Raph feels a hot inferno ignite as he drops them both to the ground, feeling Donnie press into him with an agonized whine as he pulls out his throwing stars. He knows exactly what he's going to do- he can have these embedded in skulls faster than humans can get past the screaming stage.

Much faster than they can retrieve their guns.

The door is open and Mikey swings in.

Raph's heart practically exploded, throwing star hitting the wall near his baby brother's head, missing by the few redirected inches. Mikey shouts something that he doesn't quite hear through the ringing and the haze, but Leo comes in directly after to give a muffled, quick scold. Then they're turning to them, and they're both seeing the blood on the floor, and Mikey's bolting across the area to them.

Each step clangs, making Donnie give a cut-off sob, and Raph shoots him a glare that a dead man could feel. Mikey slows, and Leo's still by the door, looking out at something Raph can't see.

His eyes are white, maybe comprehending the new wounds that weren't from gang members, gripping the blade of his katana like he wanted to do more than just hold it.

And Raph's all for beating up the bad guys.

But those weren’t bad guys.

"Leo," He hears himself say, because his brother can't think past the bright red warning signs in his vision when they're in trouble. Then, when he doesn't react, more irritated, "Leo."

Leo looks over, annoyed by his crass interruption to his intrusive thoughts, and he growls, "You bonehead, get over here." 

And Leo does, because they've bled out on the ground and he's a nosy, caring, dipstick. The sharp look tapers off into a panic when Raph drags them both up and practically throws Donnie backward.

He catches him, looking at Raph like he's a monster, and then tries to turn Donnie around for a better, supportive hold.

The look is gone, attention on his little brothers but in a way that won't end up with innocent people in the hospital.

"Help me up," He tells Mikey as his youngest brother hovers, latching on as soon as he gets the okay. Raph stands up, getting an arm on the wall. He feels stronger now that he's upright. 

Leo's got Donnie cradled in one arm, knee against his carapace, carefully coaxing a few sentences out of him. They're slurred and a bit disoriented, but they're coherent enough. 

"We're going to get you home," He looks up, to Raph, a promise for both of them. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Then let's get going," He demands as he waves for Mikey to go to their brothers. "Get him on your back already, let's go."

Mikey helps Leo get Donnie on his carapace. The two of them squabble about it, whispering complaints about their adjustments. 

He doesn't hear anyone else but them. 

Donnie's looking at him with slightly hazy eyes, squinting as though he wasn't totally sure the shelled figure was one of his brothers. When they finally lock on his face, he gives him a congratulatory nod.

See? You could do it. 

Donnie's expression relaxes. 

He holds up a fist. 

We did it.

They air fist-bump. 

Their brothers finally reach a verdict and then Mikey scrambles over to help Raph stand upright. They manage to get down to the ground without too much hassle. The cops are gone, maybe they've gone back, maybe they decided to look further away. He doesn't care. 

Raph could have taken them, if he had to. Sometimes that was the problem. He didn't want to. Not if it ended up with someone good getting beat. Someone who hit for the right reasons, to stop more hurt. 

He always thought that's what separated him from other lowlifes.

That's why he was the good guy. 

His fingers rub the throwing stars still left in his hand as Leo gently bumps his head against sleepy Donnie's, and Mikey puts a brief pressure around his torso, smiling when he meets bright blue eyes. Raph squeezes his shoulder in grateful return. 

It didn't matter. If it came down to it, intentions meant nothing when his brothers are caught in the crossfire. Nothing else mattered- could possibly matter.

That shouldn't make him any better or worse than anyone else.