Lost til you're found, swim til you drown, know that we all fall down.
Characters: thepartydude, tic-tech-turtle, betterthanraph and iwitnessdamsel, not quite closed but any other tags will probably be dealt with as after the fact.
Location: Just outside Raph's room, Deck 6 room #7297
Date: Right after Raph's punishment is announced.
Rating: Vaguely PG-13 for maybe graphic imagery.
( Love til you hate, jump til you break, know that we all fall down. )
Location: Just outside Raph's room, Deck 6 room #7297
Date: Right after Raph's punishment is announced.
Rating: Vaguely PG-13 for maybe graphic imagery.
( Love til you hate, jump til you break, know that we all fall down. )
Don't look- Don't look-!
"Don't," he choked out through clenched teeth, arms around his youngest brothers as he tried to shield them the only way he knew how. If he could keep them from looking, they might not get as scared. Might not be thinking the things he was. Their chests might not constrict as painfully, their breath might not rattle in their lungs and their hands might not shake as badly.
Don't look...!
Pounding footsteps registered and April turned the corner too late for Leo to call a warning. She looked at them, then looked at Raph's door -and his shell, God, his shell, Leo would kill Redd, he'd murder him mercilessly- and screamed. Leo flinched at the sound, but called to her in a strained voice. Give her something to do. "April, come here. Take them."
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Raph's shell. Raph's. He couldn't survive that, it had to mean ...
When he caught his breath, it came out in a choked sob before Leo grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in close. Leo was shaking. Or was that him? He couldn't tell, didn't even know which way was up, what was happening, how this could have happened.
RAPH IS DEAD.
There was something wet on his cheek. Was he crying?
Then someone screamed. Was that him?
He couldn't tell.
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Raph.
Raph was...
No. No he might. He could probably survive the removal of his shell. He could, probably. But the screaming. Blood loss. Shock. Trauma. and who knew what other injuries could pull that sound from his-
Don't think about that. Don't think about that.
He's dead.
Don shuddered once and flinched when April screamed, remembering Raph, and tucked his face hard against Leo's shoulder. His big brother. And tried to hide.
But only for a second.
April. Don took a shuddering breath, and tried to lift his head and step back, away from Leo, on shaking legs, his hand on Mikey's shell. He couldn't break now. He couldn't. "April, don't look."
His voice was quiet.
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Her hands shoot to her mouth, smothering another shrill burst of fear.
Leo's voice just managed to register. With some effort, she managed to wrench her eyes away, then waved for him to bring the boys over. Frantically.
Then she came over to gather them herself.
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When they left his side he steeled himself and turned to look at Raph's shell again.
...he almost ran. Nausea boiled in his stomach and bile crept up his throat as Leo took it in, all of it, etched the sight into his memories. This would be the fuel he needed when the time came to slaughter the Captain. He needed to remember this. The blood pooling beneath the shell as it rolled off, the tiny bits of flesh that clung to it. All the scrapes and scratches and nicks along the back that marked it as uniquely Raph's. None of their shells looked like his. He was never careful enough.
Never careful.
Leonardo clenched his fists and stamped his feelings down further when they threatened to rise back up. Raph's shell was leaving stripes of blood down the door; Leonardo needed to get it down. This was dishonorable, a disgrace, a sick and barbaric display of power. He forced himself closer and saw that it hung by a large nail hammered into the door. Taking it down was just a matter of unhooking it. So Leonardo did.
No matter what he tried, his hands still shook. And the shell was heavier than he'd thought it would be -maybe he was just weak, or maybe it was weighed down by something more than simple mass- and the muscles in his arms bunched as he fought to keep it from thunking against the ground. He examined the shell, forced himself to keep from looking inside, stared at the back.
Slumped down to his knees.
Cradled it in his arms, as if Raph were still inside of it.
Tried to stop his shoulders from trembling and failed. Bent over it. Rested his forehead against the edge of the plastron, ignoring the blood, ignoring the smell.
My little brother is dead...!
A low keening noise sounded from the back of his throat, barely audible past his closed mouth. There were no tears, and the sound cut off almost immediately. It was almost animalistic, as if words couldn't be used to express what he was feeling, so he had to rely on sound. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.
Made the noise again before silencing himself.
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"It'll be okay Mike," he said, because he had to say something and April was right there and needed to hear this, too. Right? And Leo, behind him somewhere, he was hurting and this couldn't always be his job. It couldn't be.
Don sort of wished it could be.
"We'll figure something out. Death-" Donatello didn't trip over that word, but it was the switch that turned him off. He wouldn't be able to keep it together if he didn't turn off right now, push all emotion aside and bury himself in thoughts and ideas and not-reality, so he turned himself off a little, just a little, just - "isn't permanent here, remember? Raph will be back. He'll be fine. Trust me."
He looks at April, a little lost and a little blank, and then looks over his little brother's shoulder to see Leo. He blinks once and flinches, but his voice is calm when he turns back around. He has to be calm now, right? He's okay Mikey, he's okay April, see? He's fine.
He's fine, he's fine.
"April, can you take Mike? I need..."
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It's as if he overloaded. The enormity of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks, and brought with it absolute numbness. Disbelief. If he denied it, it didn't happen.
... oh god Raph.
He let out a jerking, shuddering breath, and then it all threatened to collapse, to break down the hastily thrown up walls. Everything was pushing to flood out at once, all the anger and fear and empathy and sadness, all of it.
Shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping it in, Mikey kept his head ducked down. Despite everything, he needed to look back, needed to make sure Leo and Don were still there, that they hadn't vanished, that they're still alive and Raph is gone he's gone he's DEAD.
He could see them and the shell was still right there and suddenly he turned back and clenched his eyes tightly shut, but the image was still burned there in his mind.
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"C'mon." It was to the both of them. She began leading Mikey away slowly, but she was looking at them because whatever they were planning to do, they were going to shove it and help her with their youngest brother. "Guys, c'mon."
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Only this time he was dead. And it was all his fault.
I shouldn't have fought with him. I should've been more thorough, more careful. I should have followed him, I should have made myself more clear. I should have asked him what he was doing, I shouldn't have ignored him for my own comfort-! All the should have, shouldn't haves drove Leonardo in circles until he was clutching Raph's shell so tightly that the edges of his carapace would leave bruised indentations in his arms.
April was calling him. Them. All of them.
Mike. Don. Leonardo forced himself to let go, unlocked his joints until he was sitting back on his heels. He raised himself to his feet, moved over to Raph's door -it was unlocked, Raphael must have left it that way- and opened it. He was inside for only a moment; to deposit the shell on the bed and draw a sheet over it. He would have to come by later and figure out how to deal with it. Maybe let himself panic, mourn, cry. When there weren't spectators, or when his brothers didn't need him.
Raphael had needed you. Where were you then?
Leonardo stepped quickly out of the room and closed the door behind himself. He raised his eyes to Don, then to where April held Mikey. There wasn't anything to say.
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But he knew how to wait.
He stood back and waited while Leo took the shell into the room, staring blankly at the blood that fell in clots to the floor. He shut his eyes and waited, and held his breath and waited, until Leo came out and time righted itself again.
Don folded his arms loosely over his plastron and stepped aside to let Leo lead that way back to April, to their brother. He wouldn't go unless Leo went. He didn't think he could.
He wanted to ask about the shell. He wanted to ask if Leo had noticed anything strange about it. Needed to know. Instead he just ducked his head and quietly said that, when they ended up wherever they were going, he needed to check them over. Shock, maybe, he said, not really thinking about it. Trauma. "Is that okay, Leo?"
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But he couldn't. How could he block out something like that? That Raph was dead? He might have been known for rushing off and getting into trouble, for getting in over his shell and for the rest of the brothers to rescue him and kick the asses of whoever had hurt him.
But this was different this was ... terrifying. Hearing those screams, seeing that shell ...
Mikey sucked in another shuddering breath, but it didn't ease anything. His arms still shook, his legs moved stiffly as he walked. But despite the few tears still persistently rolling down his cheek, he kept it inside, at least for now.
If he let it out, he wasn't sure if he could stop again.
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"C'mon."
One by one, she began herding the turtles towards her room, really, whether they wanted her to or not.
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He was shutting down.
Leo knew it well. He did it often himself; it was a useful skill to have, as a leader. Maybe harmful in the long run, but in the short run and for general morale, it was good. But that wasn't Don's place anymore.
Leo swept out an arm and grabbed Don's shoulder, keeping the pace with April as they headed to her room, even moving a bit ahead. He needed to get his brothers situated, needed to look after them. They had to be all right. He would need to make sure Mikey cried, and he would need to make sure Donatello didn't push this so far down that it would be more painful dredging it back up again. Even if it wasn't permanent, even if Raph was out of pain now, even if there was nothing they could do, Leonardo would have to get them to grieve. To mourn.
Otherwise, this could get very bad, very soon.
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He swallowed quietly and lightly fisted his hands. Leo. They weren't shaking. Yet. But they would be soon. If he let them. He couldn't let them.
Donatello looked away from Leo to April and then to Mikey Mikey you shouldn't have seen this, with the not-quite-wide, lost eyes of someone waking up from a disorienting dream, and then he looked down. He closed his eyes. He let himself be led.
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The carpet was blue. It was a nice color.
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She was trying hard to stay composed, but unlike the boys, some part of her trusted the system.
It was the shell and the screams that made her so uncomfortable. So, so frightened and heart broken. The Raphael she'd known had just recovered from the fight at her father's shop. That worry was still fresh in her and it just melded and mixed in with everything she felt about this.
But her grief was no where near that of the brother's. She knew that, and it gave her strength to choke down her shock.
April O'Neil was the grown-up. Whether Leo realized it yet or not, she was taking charge, and she was not above bullying him into realizing it.
She was, after all, very good at bullying people into seeing things her way.
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