Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Fan Fiction ❯ 3 Weeks ❯ 14 ( Chapter 14 )

Uh, sorry for the wait (it felt like so much longer than it was, to me). I had a mild case of writer's block, a major case of unfinished schoolwork, and the ever-occupying holiday decorating of our family home to attend to. It could've been a longer wait, right? Here's the continuation with Chapter 14.

 

Disclaimer: They're not mine. I just enjoy playing with other peoples' toys is all.

 

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From the moment the doors of the battle shell closed again, everything seemed to erupt into chaos. The depressing silence that had previously reigned over the rescue party all but disappeared, replaced with overlapping voices and half-shouted sentences. It was as though a small, contained whirlwind was wreaking havoc on the vehicle's inhabitants, carrying itself away in panic and no small amount of urgency. Tension was palpable in the air, thick and anxious, throughout the entire journey home.

 

Michelangelo had immediately taken up the position of driver, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal without restraint and leaving no room for argument on the matter. The heavy vehicle was soon weaving in and out of traffic with expert precision, followed by a symphony of honking and shameless cursing that nobody paid any mind to. They'd probably violated half a million regulations already, he noted apathetically, with the daredevil tactics he chose to employ. But that didn't matter: whatever got them to the lair fastest was the best course of action. Anything that could help his brother was absolutely necessary. He couldn't help twisting in his seat to check on Raph's condition, eyes looking over the bloodied figure and taking in every detail he could manage before catching Leo's eyes sharply. Leo didn't need to know his brother half as well as he already did to pick up the unspoken words.

 

You killed him, right? Mikey's eyes asked, glittering darkly with poorly hidden emotion. The eldest turtle's gaze softened: he hated seeing any of his brothers so hurt and disturbed, especially the youngest. It was a look ill suited to Michelangelo, who had always been able to maintain a refreshing positive outlook, and who had always had a forgiving nature. This dark look, this clear desire for vengeance of some sort, reminded Leo of the months leading up to his departure for the Ancient One's home. Hopefully, it was only a momentary change in outlook for Mikey, a result of finding Raph in such terrifying conditions. The youngest turtle's unvoiced question was answered with a cold nod. And he didn't regret his actions in the slightest. Setting his jaw, grimly satisfied, Mikey turned back to driving.

 

Donatello and Casey had also launched into action upon departing. The second eldest was doing everything within his power to staunch the flow of blood from Raphael's more serious wounds. His hands rummaged around on shelves and in his duffel bag, seeking cloths, bandages, anything that might be used to assist him. He kept his attention divided between his tasks and voicing orders to Casey, who had called ahead to April and Master Splinter. The vigilante relayed the purple-banded turtle's demands to the best of his ability, his own attention split between the phone and directing Mikey on the best routes to take them into the city. Leo could hear April's voice from his seat in the back, frantic and tense as she asked for more information, and Donnie reached out and snagged the phone from Casey in a flash.

 

The battle shell made a sharp curve, making their jerry-rigged gurney rattle and sway. Leonardo steadied it as best he could, even as Donnie shoved a towel into his hand, guiding the leader to a particularly deep series of gashes. Blue-banded turtle wanted to gag, realizing with a wave of near panic that in the better lighting, he could make out the dull white gleam of Raphael's collarbone beneath them. Donatello seemed to have noticed it too, for his grip on the phone tightened considerably. He paused in his rapid conversation with April, squeezing his older brother's hand in a reassuring manner and meeting his eyes. Leo clutched the white towel gently: he could already feel warm liquid seeping through the fabric in his hands, and looked down at it, morbidly fascinated.

 

“Leo, you know what to do,” the younger turtle said firmly, speaking quickly and withdrawing his hand to rummage around for any other supplies he could find. “Just keep pressing down on that, don't let up for a second, even if it looks like the bleeding's stopped. He's lost way too much blood already, and we can't afford for him to lose much more before we can reach the lair.” His eyes flashed for a moment before whatever thoughts he was having were pushed aside. He returned to addressing April, who fired off a short series of questions over the line.

 

“I think he might have hit an artery, but I'm not 100% sure, there's-there's too much mess in the way to tell right now, and the- the collar-” Donnie cut himself off, running a gentle hand over his younger brother's neck where the heavy material had rested. The small burn marks stood out against the green skin with gut-wrenching clarity; Richards had done something wrong while securing it, and Raphael had suffered all the more for that fact. He tore his eyes away, relaying every bit of damage he could observe to their human friend, listing any medical supplies he thought he might need at the ready when they arrived, turning to ask Mikey for an accurate ETA to give her, leaving Leo to get his first good look at Raph since well before his disappearance.

 

To say he was disturbed would probably be an understatement. To say he was horrified would, perhaps, be more accurate. He kept seeing it, how dark the small room had been even while lit by flashlights and a candle. How long had Richards left the turtle there, alone and unable to see, unable to move? Had he given up on his family finding him? Leonardo pressed down on Raph's plastron with considerable force, willing the blood flow to slow to a stop on its own, for his brother to wake up and be healed and feel perfectly fine, knowing all the while just how ridiculous such a wish was.

 

He watched the slight movement of a pulse in Raphael's neck with all the intensity he could muster, listened as a shallow, grating breath was let out, waited for the next one to be taken in. Every second, every space between breaths, between pulses, dragged into a heart-pounding eternity for the eldest brother, the chaos fading into silence in the background. He could feel the weight of guilt crashing down upon his shoulders as he watched a crimson stain spread beneath his fingers. His weight pressed down harder, reactions on autopilot for the time being.

 

It occurred to him that he couldn't recall ever seeing his hotheaded sibling quite so weak before. Everything about Raphael seemed diminished, there in the bright glow of the fluorescent light bulb, hurtling down a highway at reckless speeds. He looked so much smaller without all of that muscle mass packed onto his frame. Out of the four of them, he'd always been the biggest, the heaviest, and the strongest in the sense of brute force. It lent him an intimidating look, made him seem so much older than he was, especially when coupled with his deep voice, fierce glare and Brooklyn accent. Without that weight, that intimidation, he just looked…young. Leo shook himself mentally. It was so easy to forget, with Raphael, just how fragile a body can be.

 

He'd spent years watching Raph undergo hours of grueling self-punishment in the dojo, nights spent pushing the limits of his own body, jumping into dangerous situations with smart-ass comments and not a seconds' reconsideration. That was Raphael in a nutshell. Fire, passion, hidden strength and an all-consuming berserker rage that always emerged when they needed it the most. A secret weapon, Mike had once called him. He was like an unstoppable force of nature, an invincible constant that would always have Leo's back, a friend and a rival all in one. In a moment of frozen time, waiting for the next heartbeat, the eldest turtle was forced to call himself a hypocrite for thinking someone invincible.

 

How many times had he been called fearless? How many times had he bitten his tongue, wanting nothing more than to lay out his every fear for the world to see, wishing his brothers would stop assuming that he was? Yet there he had been, all those years, thinking Raph was too strong, too stubborn, too- well, too Raph to be killed.

 

In other words, invincible.

 

He wondered how he had come to such a preconception. Even now, Leonardo could recall half a dozen instances in which his younger brother had been unconscious or seriously injured. The leader could remember numerous occasions during which they'd had to make the awkward trip home, crammed into the back of the battle shell with their makeshift gurney like they had had to tonight.

 

More often than not, it seemed Raph took the brunt of most of their beatings, either because he was too stubborn to back away from a fight or because he was reckless enough to try and intercept an attack that wasn't meant for him in the first place. Something about this situation, be it the diminished frame or 3 weeks of whatever had been done to him, made mortality all the more obvious. No one was invincible. Everybody had to die.

 

Leo felt his breath catch in his chest at the thought. Raphael could die, could bleed to death right here, inches away from him, and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. They should have found him sooner. There was another cycle of breath: inhale, exhale. The pulse in Raph's neck fluttered. He waited for the next one, heart pounding almost painfully as he took his brother's cold hand for a moment. Brown eyes flickered up to observe the others in the front of the vehicle, talking and planning and doing everything possible to get them home sooner, and a wave of bitter humor washed over him.

 

They should have found him sooner, he repeated to himself guiltily. He could die right here in the battle shell, minutes away from home and decent medical supplies, from his own bed and his father and inches away from his brothers and best friend. Leo didn't like realizing things like that. His gaze returned to the pulse in his brother's neck, intense enough to make any conscious being squirm under his scrutiny. Lucky for him (or perhaps not), his brother wasn't awake to take note of it.

 

He knew it was wrong to request anything of his brother when he was in such a condition. He knew it was wrong and selfish and probably quite stupid, but that didn't stop Leo from concentrating every piece of his being on silently begging Raphael to somehow hear and understand his will. They couldn't lose him now: not when they had only just gotten him back where he belonged. The leader closed his eyes for a few long moments, listening to another inhale and waiting for the next one to come, praying that it would. Don't die. Just hold on a little longer.

 

Even if his brother woke up and never forgave him, even if he hated him for the rest of his life for what had happened, that was fine. It would be more than okay because he would have the rest of his life to hate him with. Years, even. Years that Leo could use to attempt to earn absolution, to apologize ceaselessly until he was heard. All he had to do was hold on.

 

Another inhale, dry, rasping, desperate: another short exhale to follow it. Time returned to its normal speed and the wait began again.

 

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Any good? I feel like Leo may have been OOC in here, but you guys would probably know best, being unbiased. Questions, comments, criticism, I'll take it all well into consideration. Wow, 14 chapters, I never thought I'd make it this far! Number 15 is in the works, hopefully to be posted soon. Thanks for reading!