Ohh, we're FINALLY jumping into the juicy plots of this show!
I love Leo and Raph's dynamic. Both of them want to lead. Leo seeks external validation from his brothers since he doesn't have the internal validation that he needs to truly become a leader, so he acts impulsively and clashes with Raph, who does have the glory of being a leader, but is stuck with insecurities within, mainly due to the fact that he not only has to respond to danger but also deal with taking care of his three little brothers.
They each have the same wants, but completely opposite needs.
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.
This installation wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for @trilobitepunch. Not only is she responsible for the amazing art, but she got me through when life and writer's block hit me hard. Parts of the writing here is hers, and I am so greatful for her input and her patience.
There were three truths, as fundamental to the foundation of universe as the force. The first was that strength always prevailed. The second was that there were many, many ways to exert one’s strength. The third was opportunities were rare, and thus every one was to be exploited to the fullest. Krang had always known these rules, and had followed them faithfully even when trapped within the sanctimonious confines of the Jedi order.
They had kept him sharp when others had become complacent, had kept him focused when arrogance had blinded that pompous council to what lay right under their upturned noses. He had seen and seized the opportunity of the Empire. He alone strode from the smoldering ruins of the temple, ready for what lay ahead. And next to the emperor, he alone understood the art, the sever beauty, that lay within the dark side of the force. Unlike the other imbecilic inquisitors, or the emperors simpering apprentice, he knew that killing jedi was a waste, and torture alone was lazy. The best paths to breaking a jedi were often the slowest. Pressure was key, but timing was everything.
His longest running projects had just handed him two gilded prospects. Two force sensitives, unaware and untrained. Two individuals his masterpiece had taken pains to hide not just from Krang, but from his own flesh. He could practically taste the potential, feel the scales of the force teetering to-and-fro. Whoever these two were, they were essential, the missing piece to complete his magnum opus. Two lambs, perfect for the sacrifice. He just had to think…
A knock shattered the silence within his office, bringing him back to the present, and his waiting opponent.
Earlier than he’d expected, but he would adapt.
“Enter.”
Heavy footsteps shuffled across the floor, armor clicking and clanking as its wearer snapped into a salute. Determination and fear flooded the air in a sweet and sour scent, and he allowed himself a brief, hungry grin before schooling his face into a stern scowl.
“I don’t recall sending for you, Inquisitor,” Krang mused, sinking back into his desk chair. He laced his claws togethers as he swiveled to face his visitor. Raphael. The simple brute was less of a challenge than his prodigy brother, yet he possessed characteristics that were their own unique form of intriguing. Ones that made him worthy to play the game.
“I trust you have a good reason for this interruption.”
“I do, sir,” Raph replied, massive body shifting with discomfort as his gaze flickered between the red eye of the mech suit and his golden eyes. It was an easy opening move. The indecision and anxiety of which to maintain eye contact with was such a simple means to discomfit the weaker chattel within the Empires ranks. From whole suites of pompous admirals, intoxicated with their engorged egos and perceived importance to ranks of pawn level inquisitors, all could be caught wrong footed without having to exert himself.
He let the tension build, keeping his face the picture of cold indifference as Raphael’s shoulders slowly bowed inward, as his eyes finally settled on some far point over Krangs shoulder. Signs of submission. Finally, Krang raised a hand, claws skimming the air in ambiguous invitation.
“Then speak but make it brief. I am busy.”
“It was Raph’s fault the mission failed,” Raphael reported, hands tightly clasped behind his back as his eyes remained fixed on their chosen spot. “I underestimated the younger targets’ agility an took out one of the ruins supporting walls. Donatello nearly had the other target apprehended before the place came down. I figured you should know before you start deciding punishments.”
“I see,” Krang hummed, anticipation building. “Are you so eager for punishment?”
“I own my messes,” Raph growled, chest swelling slightly as his eyes finally drifted to meet Krangs own. Something shone in their depths, a molten red that Krang relished seeing. Now, the true game could begin. “Donatello woulda been successful otherwise. He doesn’t deserve punishment.”
“You forget yourself inquisitor. That decision does not lie with you. Do you require a reminder?”
“No! I... I’m sorry." Ah, but how quickly he backtracked, those brilliant carmine emotions running so hot then cold. His boldness was perhaps admirable, if ill formed and entirely misplaced. Krang waited, fingers drumming steadily against the metal of his desk as the stocky young Inquisitor reigned in his resolve once more. "But really, it was my fault! Please, ya can’t punish Don.”
There it was. The thing that made Krangs time and efforts worthwhile. Earnest fidelity spread wide like herald’s banner for all to see. A pillar of strength that refused to bend or cede, no matter how the darkside of the force crashed against it. It was a trait that once would have been hailed by the Order, the dead Order that would also have ironically condemned the very bond that fed into it. The bond of brotherhood... While not an intelligent player, Raphael would still perform above and beyond expected parameters for his brother's sake.
It was harder to hold back his hunger for dominance, to keep the smirk he felt from surfacing upon his face as he thought of the earlier debriefing. How hard Donatello had fought to control himself, to control the flow and shape of the information reported. The silent symphonic devastation that had slowly built as his witless older brother revealed everything, placing yet another victory squarely in Krangs crown. Young Donatello’s mind was Krangs to command, and it was a far more effective punishment than any of the physical penalties preferred by the indolent thugs within the Empire’s ranks.
Yet Raphael had presented the opportunity, and Krang never let an opportunity go to waste. It was time for the next phase.
He remained aloof as he intoned the rule, one he knew Raphael to be aware of, savoring each step as their game drew closer to its inevitable climax.
“Punishments are shared. There are no exceptions.”
“I-”
Krang silenced him off with a look, his next words subtly sweet as they rolled off his tongue. “However, the proportions of said punishments can be…adjusted.”
“A-Adjusted?”
The elder brothers face lit with the light of a false hope. The snare was set. All that was required now was a final push…
“Since you confess that the failure was primarily yours, you may choose to take on half of Inquisitor Donatello’s punishment in addition to your own.”
“I do! I mean, I will!” Raphael blurted all too eagerly.
This time Krang very nearly did smile, savage glee making it difficult to manage the façade of bored acceptance.
“Very well,” he straightened just a touch, brandishing his claws in a casually sweeping gesture towards the door. “The isolation chamber awaits.”
He sat back, savoring every moment as the snare snapped tight.
Raphael paled, pupils dilating as his whole body shuddered in primal terror. It was as satisfying as watching Donatello try to hide his spiraling collapse, watching as the pillar trembled, tiny microfractures hidden within its foundation spreading like broken wings. The banner faltered, colors fading as darkness loomed.
“Th-e…the isolation…”
“Changed our mind already, have we?" Krang scoffed, one claw coming up to mockingly tap the edge of his face plate, glancing dismissively down at the documents on his desk as though intending to resume his prior tasks. "Very well, Donatello’s punishment will be-”
“NO!"
The dread from the other side of the desk was palpable, its progenitor so tightly coiled that Krang half-expected the boy to lunge at him. Some part of him, the part that sang for battle and conquest half hoped the fool would do it. He arrested the urge as he watched Raphael wrestle with himself before taking a step forward. Eyes filled with miserable determination dropped to the floor, head bowing in defeat as his arm slowly rose to a salute of surrender.
“No, I…Permission to begin my punishment, sir?”
“Granted," Krang replied, putting weight into the word like it were a sentencing. Raphael nodded, body shuffling away, blind to the wolfish smirk that had finally slipped across his superior’s face. A few quick taps to his personal consol, and Krang was leaning forward in his chair, grin now a full-blown sneer as he watched Raphael curl up into the smallest physical ball within the isolation chamber, head buried deep in the circle of his arms as he slowly swayed side to side.
“I wonder how long he’ll last this time,” he idly mused to the ether, eyeing the deep, overlapping claw marks gouged into the walls. “Perhaps he’ll make things interesting and go for a full two hours. Heh.”
The shadows of the room swallowed the tartness of his laugh, heavy hush ruling once more as he closed the screen. As amusing as it would be to watch the pillar break itself, he had work to do, and two new subjects to account for in the greater game.
