Raphael’s voice teemed with tension. Mrs. Morrison took care to keep hers gentle. “Since I first patted your hand. It wasn’t like any human skin I’ve ever felt, and not enough fingers.”
Clenching said fingers, he swallowed roughly, audibly. “So where’s that leave us?”
“…I may not understand what you are, dear, but by now I know who you are: a fine young gentleman who’s been kind enough to keep me company when you didn’t have to. You still don’t, but…as long as you’re comfortable, you’ll always have a home and a friend here.”
Chapter 9: 2003: “Why are you crying” and “Everything’s okay, go back to sleep.”
I must shout out @side-shuffling-hyperfixations as it was one of their posts that inspired this one!
Mikey had a radar for tears.
No one knew how it started but if you were sad, Mikey would hone in on it like a bloodhound. Wouldn't matter the type of mask you put up, the youngest turtle just knew.
And he would make it his mission to determine the cause of the pain and fix it. If you thought Leo could be stubborn, the leader had nothing compared to Mikey on a mission when any of his family’s feelings were at stake.
If there were actual tears, then the importance of that mission increased tenfold.
So, when an odd shuffling late at night had Mikey’s senses tingling, he was up and trotting downstairs. After a moment, Klunk pulled himself from the bed, stretched, and gave chase.
The lair was quiet for once. Even late night worker Donnie was asleep.
But the distinct clomp, clomp could only belong to Raphael.
It wasn't weird for him to be out late hours. It was almost weirder for him not to be out late hours. If he came home beaten up, bloody or drunk, it had kind of become expected.
But this wasn't that. There wasn't any hitched curses because he was trying not to wake anyone up and patched himself up. There were no stumbling, shouting words or kicking anything he knocked into (Raph was not a quiet drunk).
As Mikey slipped about the cirher, he saw a Raphael who was sullen, head down, and walked like all meaning had been sucjed out of his life.
And in the faint light there was, the color of his mask was darkened around the eyes.
What the shell?
Stepping out into the open, Mikey—ever the blunt one—asked, “Raph, why are you crying?”
The turtle paused in mid step.
If it had been anyone else, he would have denied it up and down. It was a useless denial because they ultimately knew one another so well but it was a familiar game.
With Mikey though, everyone knew he wouldn’t give up and he had some uncanny ability to pull emotional weight out of you. His empathy was one of his strongest traits and after years of studying his brothers, it was almost a universal agreement that it was easier to simply come clean. Pride be damned.
Especially after Leo came back from Japan and the Ancient One, the wisdom of just being open, became even more apparent.
Didn't mean it was easy to adapt to though!
So, Mikey was expecting some snide comment, some remark about ‘I ain't a crybaby like you,’ or maybe even just a shove or punch to the arm.
But when Raph turned around, his eyes were puffy, his mask stained and Mikey noticed for the first time a bundle in his arms. He was cradling it like it was made of glass, with that protective stance he reserved only for things most important in his life.
At closer glance, the bundle moved. A head with truangke ears poked out, with beautiful violet etes amid a white furry body.
Wait. Wasn't that…
Oh. Oh no.
“Raph,” Mikey kept his tone soft, softer than usual, “Is…is Mrs. Morrison okay?”
They'd met Raph’s friend once or twice and Mikey always made sure to send a kitty toy or two if he knew his brother was going for a visit. She was kind of like having a grandmother.
But her kitty, much like Klunk with Mikey, was never far from her side. If Raph had brought her home, it couldn't be good.
“Everything’s fine, Mikey.” The words were rehearsed, stoic, afraid of altering even a little bit. “Go back to sleep.”
Scoffing, Mikey folded his arms. “No way, Raph! Not until you tell me the truth.”
“It don't concern you.”
“I say it does.” the boy moved, darting in front of his brother. “You come home all full of tears and depression with Lucy? Something happened, didn't it?”
“I'm handling it.”
“So, let me help.”
Raph narrowed his eyes and the faintest hint of a voice break entered his tone. “You don't gotta be involved in everything, Mikey. Thus ain't about yiy.”
“No,” the youngest agreed. “It's about you. And it's about the fact that you're standing here, lying to my face because you don't wanna break down and I wanna know why! You think I'm gonna tease you? Make fun of you?”
“Ni…”
“Then why? If I wouldn't let you stitch up my arm, you'd call me an idiot!”
“You are an idiot.”
“Fine. But I'm an idiot who loves you and if you think I'm gonna let you just wander off and hurt all by yourself, then you're an idiot too!”
The older turtle eyed his brother.
Mikey was standing firm, hands clenched tight into fists, and Raph wouldn't have been surprised if he could have stared down a god.
“You help me, Raph.” A deep pleading in the tone. “Even when I think I should be able to handle it. When I think it's more honorable for me to handle it alone. And what do you guys tell me?”
Quiet.
“Pop quiz, Raph! Same thing Leo said he learned from the Ancient One. The thing we said we were going to keep reminding each other of? It totally applies here!”
Such reluctance in the tone but at least it was progress. “I took Lucy so she didn't go to a fucking shelter.”
He didn't comment on the advice Mikey was aiming for but it was a start.
Nodding, Mikey reached out and while Lucy eyed him suspiciously, she seemed to deem him okay. They'd met a few times and the red yet to be an animal that disliked the orange-banded turtle.
She accepted a head stroke and when Klunk offered a welcoming meow from the ground at Mikey’s feet, she seemed even more convinced he was a friend.
“She can have Klunk’s old bed until we can get her one of her own. And I've got some yummy wet food I bet Klunkers wouldn't mind sharing.”
It was practical, useful things. The stuff that was important to think about. If Raph was focused on Lucy, Mikey could work with that. Small steps.
Raph eyed the feline in his arms. She seemed to be curious enough about Klunk to put down. If this was gonna be her home, she had a right to explore it.
“Be nice,” The turtle urged to Klunk as he knelt and allowed Lucy the option to roam. Her paws patted about the ground a minute, finding herself and she circled Klunk for a few minutes.
But she allowed the orange cat to nuzzle against her side and made no protests at the warm purr he offered.
“See?” Mikey grinned. “Klunkers is a good host! C’mon.”
He pulled at Raph’s hand and rather mechanically the older brother followed as Mikey pulled out a spare dish, dished up the foul-smelling gunk that Raph despised (but it certainly got Lucy’s attention even if she only nibbled a few bites), and brought out the green and red bed that Klunk used at Christmas. (Mikey insisted any time they put up decorations was rationale enough for a special bed, collar, and toy.)
It was only after Lucy seemed to settle in the bed (with Klunk by her side as a comfort buddy) that Raph sank to the floor, just watching them cuddle.
“Glad Klunk likes her.” He said simply.
Mikey just nodded. Slipping to sit next to his brother, he just waited.
Contrary to popular belief, Mikey could be patient. It usually took a lot of energy and he wasn't as rambunctious if he had to do it for a long time but he could do it.
Right now, the turtle would wait all night if he had to.
Raph watched the two cats, wordlessly. It was good Lucy would have a friend here. He hadn't really thought about how Klunk would take to another cat. Maybe it was different because Lucy wasn't Mikey’s cat.
“She's my cat, now.” Raph didn't look at his brother while he spoke. It was easier to just pretend he was talking to himself. “Guess you'll get to teach about being a kitty Dad.”
“Aw, it’s easy, Raph. You just kinda let them lead and follow. And Klunk knows how things work. He’ll show her the ropes. He's her kitty-brother!”
Finally turning, Raph said, “If I’m her Pops now and your Klunk, don't that make them cousins?”
“All kitties are children of the whole family!” Mikey proclaimed with absolute authority.
Raph shrugged. No real argument. Klunk certainly inserted himself into everyone’s personal space so reason lent itself to the idea Lucy would do the same.
But it wouldn't be the same. This wasn't the home she knew. It wasn't her window, her bed, her…human.
Raph’s hands clenched. Tight and tense, rattling in his lap.
Mikey laid a hand on top of one. No words, no tugging, just a simple presence. A wordless promise that as isolating as he might feel, Raph wasn't alone.
“Mrs. Morrison’s dead.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Mikey nodded. He'd suspected. Almost known for certain. All the facts pointed to it. But Raph needed to say it.
“She was cold, Mikey. I dunno how long she’d been there. Lucy all but ambushed me so least a few days.”
Again, Mikey nodded but said nothing.
“What kinda end is that? Sweet old lady passes and no one even noticed?!”
Mikey tilted his head and said, “You did.”
A humorless laugh. “Yeah, me. A freakish mutant turtle that lives in the sewer.”
“A mutant turtle that made sure her cst didn't get forgotten.” The youngest turtle offered. “A turtle that went to see her enough he knew something was wrong. A turtle that is gonna miss her.”
Raph cursed and hissed and growled but as much as he wanted to just explode, that would do nothing.
It wouldn't bring her back, it wouldn't fix the fact that she should have had a whole world of people around her when she went, it wouldn't fix the fact that she'd never share her stories from her childhood again. Never have the cheesecakes ready for Raph (frozen just like he liked) and never laugh and give those soft little goodbyes when he had to leave and say “The window is always open for you.”
It was a raw, gnawing ache that was carving his chest open. A pain that burned and froze and cut all at once and there was absolutely nothing he could do to make it stop.
His heart hurt. His throat burned. His vision was blurry…
Raph lowered his head and a sob broke loose from his throat. Then another. And another. And over and over until his whole body shook.
Like a living blanket, Mikey wove his arms around his brother, pulling him as tight into his grip as he could. It was like hugging a tidal wave—up and down, shaking and quaking with no means of stopping.
But stopping wasn't the goal. Mikey held tight and said softly the only thing he could offer. “You're not alone, Raph. I'm here.”
It seemed wholly insufficient. Like a candle trying to light up a stadium. It didn't begin to reach all the dark corners, all the deep grooves, all the hidden corridors.
But it lit the path directly in front. It let Raph see enough to take a step. Maybe that was all he could take right now. Maybe it was okay just to as it here in the dark and quiver in his sibling’s arms. To just let that deep, burning pain settle. To let it wash over him because he sure as shell couldn't stop it.
It wasn't a way out of his grief. That was all encompassing, suffocating. A dark, heavy blanket hechar no choice but to shoulder.
But, maybe it was the promise of another shoulder to help share the burden.
part twenty-two of the december fic advent 2024 series
x
"His absolute favorite, every year without a shadow of a doubt, was my Christmas Fruitcake.”
Raph snorts a laugh. “Fruitcake?” He says, repeating the word with bemusement. “I got three of ‘em back at home. Maybe one fruitier than the others if yer askin’ me.”
Ms Morrison only has to scold him with a stern look right his way just once. That shuts him up.
“He loved it so,” she goes on to say, rather wistfully, clasping her hands together. A certain sadness overcomes here then, the kind that snuffs out Raph’s warmth like rainwater over a bonfire.
“Oh, but it’s been a long time since I made any kind of cake of any kind… no less his fruitcake.”
She folds her hands back into her lap, smothering out her skirt hem, blinking a few times no doubt to hastily evaporate any evidence of leftover grief glimmering behind her eyes.
“You know…” Raph finds himself saying, voice feeling suddenly too loud for the silence that settles in the brightly decorated room. “I ain’t much of a baker. That’s really more of my brother, Mikey’s forte but… if you ever needed my help…”
He watches her face shift. And yeah. There goes that fire in his chest again.
Thinking about Raph taking Lucy after Mrs. Morrison passes away, because I just can't picture a world in which he was gonna let her end up as a stray or in a shelter. Thinking about Klunk becoming Lucy's emotional support brother while Mikey is being Raph’s emotional support brother through the grief
“Sorry, Lu, s’just me,” Raph sighed, crouching to scratch under Lucy’s chin. He wasn’t surprised when she dodged to peer anxiously toward the door.
When Mrs. Morrison called three days ago, laid up in the hospital with a broken hip, he didn’t hesitate to assuage her worries about Lucy being alone at home. “I got her, Mrs. M. I’ll take care of everythin’.”
As for Lucy’s worries about her owner, he could only keep his hand outstretched until she realized nobody else was coming and defeatedly headbutted his fingers.
“I miss her too, pretty girl. Just a little longer, okay?”
