Whumptober: Rumors Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated (3/5)

Whumptober: Rumors Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated (3/5)

Hours turned to days, weeks to months, and months to a full year.

Leonardo was not coming back, and they would have to accept that. If he had stayed away for so long, then he was definitely dead. He wouldn’t willingly leave them like that, right?

Raphael did not want to accept that. Not just that Leonardo was part of his family, and accepting that meant giving up on him, but the weight of being leader fell onto his shoulders, a role he swore that he would never attempt to take again. That was Leonardo’s role, nobody else’s.

And, he had to take it. Because Leonardo was gone for good.

That’s how Raphael found himself alone, on the surface, kicking stones and other debris around in his anger. Leonardo had to still be alive, he had to be. They were just giving up on him, when he could very well be alive and stuck.

Raphael grit his teeth and bit back the scream forming. He couldn’t cause a scene on the surface, not when people were probably still awake. Crumpling by a sign, he gripped the sides of his head and sobbed, knowing he was alone. It felt like he was going insane, why did that idiot have to play martyr?

A couple minutes passed, or maybe it was more. Maybe it was a half hour, or an hour. Maybe he had his family worried. He couldn’t care right then, he just wanted to be alone.

But being alone was not a privilege he got. He could feel something or someone standing there, hovering nearby.

He stilled, breathing hitching as silent tears continued to fall down his face, before he slowly looked up.

It was- It was Leonardo? No, it couldn’t be, he was gone for a year. The apparition stared, wide-eyed. They had no gear, and Raphael lost count of the sheer amount of scars lining their limbs and plastron almost as soon as he tried to count them.

That was not his brother. His brother was dead, his brother was gone for a year, disappearing behind a heavy metal wall. It had to be a ghost. There was no other reasonable answer.

Something between sorrow and wrath bubbled up inside Raphael, followed by a few other emotions that flashed by so fast he couldn’t pause to identify them. That wasn’t his brother. That was a ghost, a dream, a hallucination, something, it just wasn’t Leonardo.

Still, the ghost crouched and reached their hand out, tilting their head, smiling in the soft way the oldest always did when any of them were afraid or sad, it was too close, too close-

Raphael shivered, then forced both his hands down, throwing a punch at the ghost and standing as they backed up. Why did it keep antagonizing him like this? What was the joy there? He didn’t want to see the oh so familiar face anymore, he wanted to be left alone!

The scream from earlier finally escaped him as he chased after the spirit, trying to hit it, maybe then it would leave him to his misery.

Or maybe it would take him, maybe he could leave with Leonardo, then.

Either way, it kept dodging, moving fluidly around his punches in a circle around the roof, never fighting back, not disappearing. Raphael didn’t know which he wanted more; For it to fight back, although incorporeal, or for it to leave so he could continue wallowing in self-pity.

“He left us!” Raphael yelled, no longer caring who heard or what happened, tears flowing down his face without a problem, “He’s probably dead, because we haven’t heard a single thing from him in a year, and there’s no way he’d leave us that long!”

Something flashed on the ghost’s face that almost resembled guilt, but Raphael missed it, crumpling back to the ground and voice cracking with sobs as he shook his head. “And now? I’m screaming at his ghost, trying to fight it for God’s sake, and I feel like I’m going insane.”

%%%

Leonardo looked his brother over from where he stood, eye ridges knitted in concern. How far had they fallen in the time he was gone, so that Raphael openly cried like this, that he thought Leonardo was a ghost?

Seriously, he crossed half of America, just for this to happen.

He approached the shaking figure slowly, crouched back down and slowly reached out, nervous that the other might strike out at him again.

Thankfully, Raphael did not. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice Leonardo at that point. Leonardo took a chance, grabbing a firm hold of his wrist and hoping he didn't scare the other too much.

Raphael attempted to jerk away, eyes wide as he looked to Leonardo, panicking.

"Hey," Leonardo moved to hold his hand instead, gripping it tightly between both of his, "Hey, it's me. It's me, Raph. It's me, I'm real. Look, look, I can touch you. I'm holding you. You can even hit me if you want."

Raphael paused, looking him over. Did he believe Leonardo? The eldest hoped so, although he also hoped that the younger wouldn't actually attempt to hit him.

He stared for a longer moment, dead silent, before:

"Leo?"

"Yes?"

Another choked son left him as he lunged forward, trapping Leonardo in a crushing hug. Leonardo froze, tense, but slowly hugged him back, shushing him and rubbing his shell.

They sat together until Raphael's sobs faded to sniffles. Leonardo waited for Raphael to say that he was done, when all of a sudden, the hothead pulled away and dragged Leonardo up after him. After the initial alarm passed, the older said nothing, realizing that they were heading down to the manhole.

Honestly, it just made the whole process easier. He had already been planning on how to come back, he just… Didn't know how to come back to them naturally. So yeah, having Raphael take him there made it a lot easier-

Did that shadow just move? Nobody was following them, right?

...Nothing moved, it was just a trick of the light, there was no one there.

Still, he scanned the darkness, just in case. Raphael paid his behavior no mind, focusing solely on getting him home. Once at the lair, Raphael slammed something- Leonardo didn't see what- Down, making extra noise to grab the younger two's attention.

They looked up from where they had been bickering, and froze, silent. Then, they erupted in screams, running at him and scooping Leonardo up in a hug. Leonardo melted into their grip, just relieved to be home. He missed the warmth, the low hum of electronics, his brothers, most of all.

Then, they were all asking questions, firing them at him like a machine gun, and he had to cut them off, getting one question and giving one answer at a time.

By the end of it, they were all concerned, because to be fair, it sounded less than pleasurable.

Leonardo smiled, to reassure them.

And then he collapsed.

Whumptober: Field Care 101

The first time they had gone up to the surface, they had no clue what they were walking into. It had gone completely unnoticed that they had been stepping into a war, until they were almost killed by Shredder.

After that, all of them had thrown themselves into their training, learning both how to fight more efficiently while together or apart, and basic first-aid. Donatello still knew the most about medical things, but they, at the very least, knew how to handle themselves if they had injuries.

Donatello knew the most.

Which meant all of them were clueless when he got knocked down.

He went down hard, knocked over the side of a building, a few sickening thumps and cracks following as he hit a couple obstacles.

Leonardo's stomach dropped. He called to Raphael and Michelangelo to cover him and dropped down after the genius, where was he, where was he-

By some miracle, he was alive, laying on the concrete, oh God that was blood- Crimson, pooling around him staining bandages, his mask, everything. His staff was laying across the alleyway, broken. Leonardo dropped down beside him and lifted him up. Shoot, he was already unconscious? He didn't have much time.

Leonardo traced his hands down busted scales and torn skin, looking for the major source of the blood. It had to be somewhere that would bleed a lot, some kind of artery or, or-

Frick.

Frick.

Heads did bleed a lot, didn't they?

At least it wasn't deep, right? It couldn't be deep, it probably just broke the skin, so it was bleeding.

No such luck. Leonardo didn't know much about how skulls should look, but it was not like that. He needed Donatello, but that was who he was caring for, and he couldn't get answers.

Leonardo wrestled a cloth and some water out of the medicine bag they all had, wetting the cloth, dabbing away blood, and cleaning the wound as best as he could. He followed up with bandages, desperate to stem the bleeding, but trying to remain calm and composed. If he had learned anything from war, it was that panicking helped no one.

As the battle above ended, Michelangelo and Raphael climbed down almost frantically, seeing what was the problem.

"Is he alri-" Michelangelo began, then quickly cut off, noticing the pooling blood, thick and warm and sticky.

"He has a really bad head injury, and we need to move him. Now," Leonardo explained curtly.

He slipped one arm under Donatello's legs, his other under his shell, and carefully lifted him up. There was a low moan that Leonardo tried to ignore as he turned to his other two still standing brothers and tipped his head towards the manhole.

Michelangelo darted forward and opened it, and Raphael hopped down to help carry Donatello down. The thing they needed the least was to accidentally drop him and crack his skull open entirely.

The walk was painfully silent, everybody looking at Donatello every now and again to make sure he was still breathing.

As soon as they were home, they rushed Donatello into the lab. There had to be something that could help them, the resident doctor always kept something useful handy. Donatello was passed off to Raphael to settle somewhere while Leonardo dug through boxes and bins, over desks. It had to be somewhere around, it had to be. He couldn't keep wasting time when the bandages he used earlier were already turning red, when Donatello was getting paler and paler by the minute.

There it was, the heavy kit, reserved for emergencies. Now, he didn't know much, but he was fairly certain that a heavily bleeding head injury counted as an emergency. Leonardo ripped it open, taking what he needed and hurried back to where they had set Donatello up. Praying to whatever deity would listen, he crouched down and tried not to fumble with the needle and thread as he stitched up the wound. The blood flow would stop, and then Donatello would wake up later, right?

...He hoped so, but he tried not to keep his hopes up.

The bandaging process was familiar, the bottom layer soaked to keep the injury clean, and after that? They would have to wait and see.

"I'll keep the first watch," Leonardo murmured, pulling up a chair to sit. It would be a long, long night. "I just wish we had something better for him."

%%%

They swapped back and forth all night, and the next day, and the rest of the week, just taking care of Donatello.

Eventually, Leonardo had to say that he had most likely fallen into comatose, and wouldn't wake up for a long time, if ever. They were simply not qualified to take care of him, and he might never be okay.

Of course it was met with sobs, protests, questions that he could not answer.

When left with silence, though, Leonardo himself expressed frustration, silent tears falling down even when they didn't belong.

Whumptober: Touch And Go (2/5)

A/N: I’m going to preface this with the fact that I’m probably representing touch starvation very wrong

_______________________________________________________________

Leonardo let his hand slide down from the wall, backing up slowly. “Just get out and don’t wait up, alright?”

They better leave, if they didn’t he’d-

He didn’t know what he’d do, because the soldiers were coming and he needed to go. He hoped they left already. They didn’t say anything, so either they were thinking, or they were gone, and it better had been the latter.

Taking a deep breath to soothe his fraying nerves, he turned to fight, charging the next round of guards before suddenly ducking to the left and using somebody as a stepping stone to get higher up. Leo grabbed the support beams, heaved himself up and kept running, hopping along because he knew that if he fell, that would be the end.

He really did know another way out, but it would take some effort to get there, and he had to get the guards off his tail first so that they wouldn’t follow him back to the lair.

For a minute, he paused, bringing his katanas down in deadly slashes to take some of the enemies down and ward off a few more, before turning back and running again, preferring to preserve his energy for the time.

At the end of the hall, he could see his way out, and they were still following him. He needed them off his tail, fast. Turning to face them again, Leo bounced backward to brace for a hit. If he let them follow him, he'd lead them straight to their home, straight to his brothers and then it would be all for naught.

He was getting tired, he realized. Getting tired wasn't good, not now. His breaths came in short, ragged puffs, and he was taking more and more hits by the second. Soon, he would only be running on slivers of adrenaline. Once those ran out?

Leo bit the side of his tongue at the thought of the grim outcome.

He had to turn to run again, before something happened. There were significantly more injuries than before, and that was definitely his sign he needed an out.

There, there was his exit. But there were still several guards following close behind. A sharp right should throw them off, draw them away, he could get back to it later.

And, he should have bought his family enough time, right? They had to have gotten away.

Something cut through the air, a loud sound like the phaser guns on Space Heroes followed by a whizz that ended by his ear, and there was a BURN in his shoulder. Beside him, the injury almost sizzled and smoked, and blood immediately slicked his entire shoulder and upper arm.

Against all logic, it startled him into stillness, gripping his shoulder tightly to try and stop the blood flow. He hadn't ever seen injuries like that before, so it was startling to say the least (besides that one time. They didn't talk about that one time).

Suddenly, somebody crashed into him, and he went down hard.

Then, his hands were behind his back, there were multiple people holding him, and he kicked and tried to roll.

But there were multiple guards and one of him. His wrists were tied despite his struggles, and he was stripped of his weapons right before he was roughly pulled up.

If they weren't sworn enemies, he would have almost been offended that he wasn't even given the chance to try to walk. Instead, they dragged him halfway across the building, taken lower and lower, past the core, even further down. He didn’t even know that there were lower levels, but they just kept going down until they were so far from the surface he feared he could have been smothered.

Which, was a legitimate worry at that point.

Instead of smothering him, they brought him further back once they seemed to have hit the lowest level, to the very back corner of the maze of hallways, and locked him into a room. They just. Left him.

It was well lit, but completely empty, and once the door was shut he wouldn’t have been able to tell that it was ever there at all.

His hands were bound, and he had virtually nothing at the moment, but he still began to plan.

%%%

Step, step, step, step, step, turn.

Step, step, step, step, step, turn.

Repeat again, over and over.

While it could have been worse, they had actually forgotten about him in that back corner. It was honestly funny to him. Just going to leave him in a corner, huh? He assumed that they were waiting for him to die, either by his own body or from time, whichever happened to hit him first.

Leo would have thought it was a little funny, if the hunger weren’t tearing him apart from the inside out. It felt like a stupid worry to him. There were so many worse things to think about, but he still managed to be worried about food of all things?

How about, instead, he worried about how long he had been there? There wasn’t really a way to tell time, there was just a haze between waking and sleeping.

He was vaguely confused about the whole situation, though. They had him captured, wouldn’t they have wanted something from him?

Or was he just bait, they usually wanted all of them at once, they couldn’t take them out one at a time, for some reason.

Leo continued to pace, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until the door slid open, and a guard walked in. He waited calmly, patiently, for them to have completely entered the room, before jumping them. Yes, he was aware that his hands were bound, but he knew that those were metal binds. He could use them as a weapon with enough agility.

The guard grabbed him and shoved him down, using the binds to shake him before grabbing his upper arm.

Leo froze, startled by the sudden touch, the lightning flowing along from the grip followed by a deep want for the touch. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Afraid? Disappointed? Angry? Against his will, he let out a short mix between a cry and a whine. He didn’t like it, the touch was bad, the sound he made because of it was worse, but he wanted the touch, he hadn’t seen anyone or anything outside the room, but the touch wasn’t even human, nor anything positive-

He was spiraling again, he had been doing that too much recently, because the guard was using that to their advantage to drag him up and out.

Just because he wasn’t fully functioning did not mean that he still wasn’t against getting moved around to some second location. He kicked and struggled, pulling away in some kind of desperation and actually managing to get some good hits in on the way.

But there were guards, they grabbed his shoulders, pushing at the injury to keep him still. Slowly but surely, they forced him along, up and outside. He squinted in the bright light- They were risking moving him in the day? What in the world were they-

A short grunt escaped him as he landed in a truck. Before he could try to get back out, or say something, or really do anything, the doors had closed, cutting the light off, and the engine was turning on. Fantastic, he really was getting moved to a second location.

Whumptober: It’ll Be Fun, They Said (4/5)

He thought they were safe.

He thought they would have been smarter, that they would have left it or gotten away.

But NO. They. Came. BACK.

And now they were all trapped, bound to this place where they'd probably die.

What was he supposed to do? He himself was chained to the wall, the heavy door triple locked to prevent any attempts at escapes.

Besides, they were all separated, and getting them all out would take too long. Raphael was in the room to his left. Donatello to his right, and Michelangelo behind him.

Getting to the room behind him would mean having to go completely around, running through a maze. Somebody would be shot before then, they couldn't get out without serious planning first.

He paced back and forth, listening to the chains on his ankles rattling as he thought.

"Leo?" Donatello whispered, barely loud enough to be heard through the wall, "Do you… Do you have a plan?"

Of course, of course- They were depending on him. They needed him to get them out before something happened. He needed to work faster. He always had a plan while on his toes, why couldn't he now?

"...I'll think of something," he replied instead of saying he didn't know.

"You always do."

How did he say he didn't know? He already tried everything, as soon as he got the chance. Now that they were all there, they would have a harder time. More places to be, more lives to account for, more hiding spots needed.

He continued to pace for a long while, still racking his brain for anything he hadn't thought of, anything that could work.

There were footsteps coming down the hall.

Nobody came down that way, towards where they were.

Leonardo froze, then stepped back, pushing himself against the wall, and waiting.

The door to his right opened, where Donatello was.

He felt sick, he wanted to scream, to make sure they wouldn't touch his brothers, but screaming would do nothing for anyone. Instead, he had to wait, listening to alarmed protests and a fading pair of footsteps, Raphael yelling not to touch him.

Once they were gone, Leonardo silently scolded himself for saying nothing, for not doing something to protect Donatello. He was supposed to take care of them, that was his job, as their older brother and leader.

He waited in silence, counting the minutes that ticked by until somebody came back down the hall after about half an hour. The door opened to his cell, spreading blinding light that made him blink and squint to see. While he was struggling to gain his bearings, somebody wrapped their hand around his wrist and pulled him up, unclipping the chain that held him to the wall. Leonardo said nothing, not after the act he pulled.

Still, Raphael yelled, sounding more panicked than before. He probably wondered who was next, and honestly, Leonardo didn’t blame him.

Leonardo got dragged into a room far, far away from the cells, and pushed down onto his knees. He cast an indignant glare at the masked guard, then took in the room. There was no light, leaving most of the room in darkness, but ahead of him was a one-way mirror, the room on the other side casting light in and-

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh GOD no.

Donatello was on the other side, already bruised and slightly battered. Leonardo tensed. He KNEW what was going on, he knew what form of torture this was, he didn’t- He- He couldn’t.

The beating started, and Donatello cried out sharply. Leonardo looked away and closed his eyes, unable to watch. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hear it though. Oh yes, he heard every whimper, every hiss, every scream. He could hear the short coughs from a heavy blow, the snap of a bone at some point.

The guard rapped their knuckle against his shell before grabbing him below the jaw, forcing his head up. Still, he squeezed his eyes tighter shut, and the beating only grew worse. Eventually, screams and quiet pleads turned into one long, never-ending wail that only rolled into low moans of pain.

He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t take having the other so close, yet unable to help, still hearing the second youngest’s begging growing desperate.

“Please,” Leonardo looked up, a whine in his voice that he couldn’t stop when he himself begged, “PLEASE, stop, stop- You’ve done enough, he can’t take much more, please stop, please-”

The torture continued. If anything, it only got worse. An itch began to burn and he shook, tears forming behind his eyes.

“I’ll do anything, anything you want, just please STOP, let them go. It’s me you want, Splinter is DEAD, take me and you won’t have to deal with them, please just stop!”

They paused, then held their hand up and, miraculously, the other person stopped, leaving Donatello breathing hard and shaking. He took a moment to take in his brother’s trembling figure, the harsh pants, bruises and cuts, bleeding injuries, burn marks, swollen skin and ripped up scales.

Then he was grabbed again, pulled up and away, out of the room. He looked back, but they had- How had they already taken Donatello away? Would he be alright? That was horrific- His stomach rolled, Leonardo closed his eyes and swallowed to avoid being sick all over the person ahead of him.

As they came to a halt, he was suddenly yanked forward, then shoved into a new cell, far from where he was before.

Hours passed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Not a good thing. Seconds ticked by, and he could only think of what would happen. He was the oldest, he had MICHELANGELO for a brother, he shouldn’t have said “anything”. “Anything” was bad, who knew what they would do with that.

Eventually, the guard came back. They pulled him along through a maze of hallways and corridors until they were somewhere new. A big, open room. To the right was a lever that he was sure couldn’t mean anything good. In front of him was a table, and on it, a revolver and chains beside it. Past that was a thick glass wall and-

His brothers.

They were all chained and on their knees, sitting equal distances apart from each other. Raphael and Michelangelo were fretting over Donatello, asking quiet questions that only received small head shakes or nods. Somebody looked up, then he was pointed out, and they stared, worried for him as well, even though nothing really bad had happened to him yet, nothing bad in comparison to what just happened to Donatello.

The guard grabbed the back of his head and turned it towards them, leaning in to growl a whisper. “You said anything, so here’s what’s going to happen. If you take the chains and bind your own wrists, you’ll give up your freedom. You’ll resign yourself to the Foot Clan and serve them until your last breath. For it, they’ll be let free to live their lives without much worry, as long as they don’t get caught again.

Should you choose the lever, the room will fill with water. You’ll have to watch as everybody in the room drowns, including yourself. You’ll have PLENTY of time to think about what you’ve done, but everybody will technically be ‘free’. You’ll all be free by death.

If you choose the gun, you have an option. You can either shoot one of them, free them and only them by death, or you can shoot yourself. No matter who you choose, everybody else will stay, forced to suffer. Take your pick. Oh, and, you have 60 seconds to pick.”

And with that, they released him and backed out of the room, locking the door as they left.

Well that was-

Certainly something.

Leonardo stepped forward and looked over his options. Picking up the gun, he found out that it only had one bullet. So he really only could shoot one person. It wasn’t a worthwhile decision. He couldn’t bear to leave them, nor look them all in the eyes and kill one of their own. The drowning was a definite no. It had the same result, but with all of them dying instead. Having to watch and explain would be too terrible. The clock was ticking, he had to choose.

Of course, he’d give up his freedom, his sanity in a heartbeat for them. He’d die captive, but they would be free. They’d have to live with his decision, though. They’d have to know he left them.

But it was the best choice, and the clock was ticking.

Leonardo reached his hand out, meeting eyes with his family who he would soon leave, and picked up the chains, twisting and wrapping them around his wrists before stepping back to finalize his decision.

At first, they didn’t know the significance of his choice, but it clicked rather suddenly. When it did, there was disbelief, grief, anger, but no words.

He would have preferred it if they had screamed at him for his choice, but the silence was just fine. It was what he deserved. As he pulled the chains tighter, both doors at each end of the room opened at the same time, and everyone was taken outside.

A cut was made in his shoulder, a chip pushed in afterwards, but Leonardo didn’t feel anything, staring down at his hands. Had he made the right choice? Would they be safe? He couldn’t be certain that these people wouldn’t go back on their word. A bracelet was clipped below the chains, and he was shoved ahead, going upstairs to the roof.

That was a helicopter.

They really were taking him, huh?

Leonardo went in willingly, slowly numbing as time went on.

If he made one more sacrifice, just for them to do something dumb, he swore he would come back from where ever they took him just to strangle them.

Whumptober: That’s Where The Blood’s Supposed To Be

In hindsight, this really wasn't his best plan.

The enemy was kind of like Rocksteady. They were big, sturdy, incredibly strong, and notoriously hard to take down. So, his plan was simple. It was a long abandoned theater. Tall columns, a lot of open space, and nothing that would be missed too terribly once it was. The plan was even simple, for the first time in a very, very long time. They were going to lead the enemy- Chad, as Michelangelo had named him in a creative stump- Into the center of the open theater, then set off the bombs that were attached to the columns. Said columns would then collapse and bury "Chad" underneath. Even if it didn't completely put him out of commission, it would at least immobilize him for a bit.

Of course, it went wrong. The bombs went off on time, and they did get Chad down. However, somehow he completely managed to miss the fact that once the columns went down, so would the rest of the building. The whole place was falling apart, and still they fought. People would die if they didn't.

He got hit. A rather large piece of debris hit Leonardo's shoulder, followed by a loud, reverberating pop. The dislocation was enough to stun him into stillness for just long enough to get hit. Of course he tried to duck out of the way, to move so that he could avoid injury. By the time it registered, though, it was too late.

Leonardo stumbled back, squeezing between two boulders and gripping the side of his hide. Lightning bolts of pain met him, and when he pulled his hand away, he only saw scarlet.

Scarlet was not good.

Chad was outside, working to tear him out of his hiding place, but Leonardo paid him no attention. He only looked at the red dripping from his face, clouding his vision, and trailing outside.

He placed his hand back on the side of his head, placing pressure where there was pain. Pressure was good. Vibrant red was not.

The banging outside stopped. Instead, there were voices. When did the banging stop? His head was spinning and his hand was slipping. Something in the back of his head screamed wrong. He could usually trust his gut. His mind was right. Maybe he would stay where he was until the sound stopped.

But then there were mahogany eyes and a purple mask. Don’t move, they said. Donatello's mouth was moving. It made no sound.

Please.

Donatello pulled his hand away from his head, and his panic spiked momentarily. He needed the pressure, he didn't want to die-

Now the pressure was back, cold and welcoming against the warmth of the blood on his face. Right, the red was blood. Bleeding meant he was injured.

They were outside. When did they get outside? He remembered crawling into that rock shelter with the building falling apart around him. Now he was in front of a pile of rubble, multiple blurs of green fussing over him.

"It's still bleeding!" He caught a glimpse of their conversation, and strained to hear the rest. "We need to get home or in the Shellraiser soon. Somewhere where I have more medical equipment than this!"

It was that bad? He needed to get up or do something to help, but his body wouldn't move, wouldn't respond to his commands.

Leonardo was next under a bright, near blinding light. He could smell chemicals and copper. Copper? Copper was bad. Somebody gripped his hands, whispering apologies and trying to reassure him.

No, not him. They were trying to reassure themselves.

"Not- Your fault," he whispered with a smile. If they needed reassurance, he would give it.

%%%

"This is my fault," Donatello whispered, staring at bandages that were finally staying white.

"It's still bleeding!" He was right, too. The bandages were running out, but they were still turning red. That wound needed to be closed or else it would never stop bleeding.

Well, he finally closed it. It was carefully stitched up, a neat row of black lines along the side of his head.

"Donnie-" Michelangelo started from where he was sitting.

"No, Mikey, listen. I’m the doctor, I’m supposed to make sure that people don't die. He almost bled out and-"

"No-"

Wait what. Wait, what. How was he even talking?

"My plan," Leonardo murmured, still not opening his eyes, "My fault."

"Leo, please don't-"

"'M so tired… Don't blame yourself, mkay? Shoulda seen it comin'."

"Leo, this wasn't your fault, you don't have to see every future that could possibly happen, please-"

His pleading and rambling fell on deaf ears. Sleep was not a good thing when they didn't know what kind of head injury they were looking at.

Whumptober: Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones But...

When their friends had questions, it was usually a normal question; “How are you?” “What’s going on?” “Do you guys need anything?” But sometimes, it was something more touchy, and definitely something harder to talk about. Such as the scar on Raph’s face, reaching from the edge of his jawline down to right above his plastron.

None of them wanted to talk about it, obviously, but when Casey or April set their mind to something, they were determined to succeed.

Michelangelo, when asked, smirked, started to tell the story, then dodged the question with some kind of prank or a distraction, brushing it off with light-hearted jokes and fun times.

Donatello got flustered, stammering and trying to find something to say before mumbling about a project he needed to get done and locking himself away in his lab.

Leonardo reacted far more calmly, meeting their gaze and saying that he was supposed to be doing something, he needed to train, needed to sharpen his swords, he was really overwhelmed and wanted to meditate, had to help one of his brothers with something, and for the most part, he was telling the truth. For the most part, they left him alone afterwards.

Of course, for obvious reasons, they never went to Raphael himself to ask him about it, most likely believing it to be something sensitive to him.

And, sure, he was thankful, but sometimes it got frustrating. Seriously, why couldn’t they just ask? It wasn’t like he’d be sad about it, he thought the scar was cool.

See, it went something like this-

%%%

They were thirteen, a reasonable age to be getting into trouble. At that age, the lair was never quiet, somebody always up to something.

This time, Michelangelo was being an idiot. He pulled a prank on Raphael, and, even though it was just meant to be fun, had accidentally brought the wrath of the hot-head upon him.

Per usual, that prank ended with Michelangelo getting chased down by the second oldest and screaming at the top of his lungs while trying to gather up pillows as he went by the couch to defend himself. Raphael, being bigger and faster than the proclaimed youngest, tackled him down to the floor in a decking that would’ve made any hockey player proud.

Also per usual, it was up to Leonardo to interfere, getting a hold of Raphael and, quite literally, dragging him off of Michelangelo while he screeched about something unintelligible.

But, Raphael did not need Leonardo trying to soothe his frayed nerves right then, he was an inferno at the moment, and only wanted violence.

“Oh my God!” Raphael exclaimed, elbowing Leonardo in the shin to the best of his ability, “Do you mind? You’re not better than us, Golden Boy! Stop acting like you are!”

“Wh-” Leonardo blinked a couple times, clearly astonished by this outburst, then yelled back, “I am not! I don’t act like that, I’m just trying to keep you from beating the living crap out of Mikey!”

“Then why don’t you fight me? You’re acting pretty confident right now.”

Splinter, in the background, watched on, silent, to see how they would react to the fight within the team, even as Leonardo looked to him for help with Raphael’s temper.

There was a long-suffering sigh as Raphael’s struggles died down and Leonardo’s grip loosened before he nodded in agreement.

"Fine, Bonehead.”

Raphael let out a victorious laugh and wiggled up to his feet, marching off to the dojo while Leonardo rubbed his temples to ward off the rapidly approaching headache before following shortly after.

When Leonardo got there, Raphael already had his sai out, twirling them and wearing a crooked grin as he waited for Leonardo to draw his swords.

“Raph, you frickin' idiot.”

Raphael only smiled wider and crouched, delighted when Leonardo mirrored his movements with an exasperated sigh.

As soon as the elder was ready, he lurched forward, slamming into Leonardo full-force. The blue-clad grunted from the weight of the other, then pushed back with his katanas to shove Raphael off of him.

Chasing after the younger brother, Leonardo brought the katanas down in a long slice to force Raphael to raise up his own weapons so that he could catch the attack, trying to force him into a corner and keep him on his toes, moving faster so that the hothead wouldn’t even have the time to strike back.

Raphael struggled, trying to dart in and get a good hit at Leonardo, but he definitely hadn’t expected Leonardo to be so serious about this fight. Then- He saw his opening, Leonardo made the mistake of leaving his right side open for an attack, and he took the chance.

Raphael darted forward, slamming the hilt of one of his sais into the other’s side, and grinning when Leonardo staggered, a short gasp leaving him. Now the tables had turned, and Leonardo was getting forced up against a wall by the hothead. Back, back, back and-!

The hothead froze and hopped back as a katana went flying by his head. He watched as it embedded itself into the wall, almost up to the hilt, and forgot all about the spar until he was going down, the other blade still held by his brother, and pressed to his throat.

Leo had the audacity to smirk after that unfair win, before he pulled the sword away.

“Really, Raph, if you were so intent on winning, you would’ve kept your eyes on me, and not the loose katana-”

The mentioned brother grit his teeth as Leonardo taunted him, then stood up and glared like he wished he could kill the other with his eyes.

“This is what I’m talking about! You’re acting like you’re better than me right now, like you wouldn’t have done the same! I just-” Raphael cut off in a wordless scream, grabbing the sides of his head before turning on his heel and storming out. He didn’t care where, he just had to be out of the lair.

There was a certain area they couldn’t go past without explicit permission from Splinter, but it was far from home, so he went there, looking for somewhere far, far away that would allow him to calm down.

And. There was a ladder. They weren’t supposed to go up to the surface, but it was even farther and-

No, no. He was not supposed to go up, so he wouldn't. Raphael looked away and started pacing, hands curled into tight fists, but, his gaze drifted back to that ladder, then up to the manhole.

What the- He grit his teeth and silently scolded himself for considering it again. He really needed to move away from that thing if it was going to be a temptation-

He looked back, one more time, and sighed. It would just be a short trip to the surface, nothing quick or serious. Once he had calmed down, he would come back into the sewers, go home, and everything would be alright.

Raphael grabbed one of the rungs of the ladder and glanced up before slowly beginning to climb, testing how sturdy it was before moving up higher.

After an experimental push at the manhole cover, he was pleased to see that it went up without a problem. And, as he slowly crawled out, he paused to gape. The sky was almost black, lit up by a dim orange, but the city itself was brighter than the moon, lights sparkling like stars.

He was taken aback, mouth half open before he realized that he shouldn't just linger there. So, he crawled out, slowly set the manhole cover back in its place, and stood straight up. But once he was done gawking at the surface, his anger came back full force. What a way to ruin his moment of peace.

He tested the fire escape to his right first to make sure it wouldn't fall apart as soon as he tried to pull himself up, then went racing up it to get to the top. Raphael breathed in deep, enjoying the cool breeze from the rooftop before beginning to pace, muttering about his insufferable brother.

And then, there were some dudes cackling. That shouldn't have been so alarming, but something in Raphael screamed that it was wrong, he needed to go see it. 

As Raphael approached the edge of the building, he squinted at the people below, and immediately felt the rage boil up in him. It was four grown men harassing one girl. From the looks of it, they were mugging her.

His lip curled up in a snarl as he felt around his belt, looking for a kunai or throwing star or something like that. Once he had it, he tossed it down and heard it clatter. The men turned to look, giving the girl a chance to run, and after they had realized it was a weapon, they glanced up to where he was hiding, although they couldn't see him yet.

"Who's there?" One of them growled, one with a big, winding tattoo over his neck and right shoulder.

Raphael dropped down, not thinking clearly about the odds of the battle. After all, he had been training all his life, what could they do?

One or two of them paused, eyes widening at the sight of him before shaking the initial shock off, getting ready. The others were already stanced up, ready for a fight.

...Needless to say, it went badly. They were many, he was alone. They were adults and he was barely even a teenager. He was way in over his head, and ended up held down by a pair of them while one looked him over, and the other examined his sai. 

"Jesus..." The one to his left muttered, looking him over while he kicked and writhed.

"This thing," The dude in front of him, Tattoo Guy, crouched and reached his hand out, "Is ugly as-"

He yelled and pulled his hand back as Raph reached forward and snapped at his hand.

"Stupid-" he growled, rubbing his hand. Then, he turned to the dude still holding Raph's sai and held his hand out, "Hey, hand me one of those, aight? I'm gonna teach it a lesson for bothering us."

Raphael's stomach dropped, a chill running down his spine. He thrashed harder as the weapons were exchanged, trying to get away, they were gonna hurt him-

"Hold it still, don't wanna kill it."

Somebody grabbed his head, restraining him and forcing him to look up. He squeezed his eyes shut as the weapon was raised, and-!

A scream tore its way from his throat as they carved it through his skin, leaving a burning cut from his jawline to the tip of his plastron. Raphael began to writhe, pushing against them as they stood up and kept their grip on him. Somebody kicked him and then he was getting dragged along the concrete and shoved into the back of a truck.

He could hear them laughing while he shrunk into a corner, shivering and afraid.

Were they- Were they gonna take him? He should have just stayed home, then he could've avoided this whole mess-

They cackled in the front of the truck, he could hear them through the wall, and the engine started up before they started driving. He wasn't entirely sure how long it had been, but eventually, they stopped and the doors to the back opened.

Raphael got grabbed roughly by the arm, their grip tightening almost to a crushing point as they dragged him out, into the back alley, and then kicked him down.

Those sadists were definitely having fun with it, throwing him down and kicking him around while he was injured and unarmed. When they got bored and finished up, they opened up a manhole (his gateway to home, yes!) and threw him down inside before closing the cover after him and leaving.

He hit the ground hard, his shell contacting the concrete with a sickening thud, and knocking the air right from his lungs.

Raphael blinked, chest heaving even though nothing would enter his lungs. He laid there for a long moment, stunned from the fall, bruises throbbing and blood running down his face.

He. He didn’t want to go home, he realized after air started entering his body again.

Sure, there was help there, and it was definitely safe, but he didn’t want to have to face the others injured. Besides, they weren’t supposed to be going up to the surface, he knew that rule as well as any of his brothers.

Instead, he slowly propped himself up on his arms, taking deep breaths to try and get rid of the last of the shock from falling before standing shakily. Raphael teetered for a moment, and he had to brace himself on the wall to avoid falling back down. Once steady, he wandered over to the part of the sewers that he knew he had been supposed to stay in.

When he was safe, and somewhere that he supposed people wouldn’t find him, he raised a hand to touch the injury, wincing and pulling his hand away immediately after. Jeez- That was a lot of blood. Hadn’t Donatello said something about how much heads bleed? Maybe the nerd had actually said something useful for once.

Then he realized that there were footsteps and froze before pressing himself up against the wall, looking for a hiding place, somewhere he wouldn’t get caught-

“Raph?”

Oh. It was- It was just Leonardo. Of course it was just Leonardo, because he was always the one who found them first.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice impossibly soft, because it was Leonardo.

“Go away,” Raphael rasped, still holding the bleeding side of his face, “I don’t wanna see you right now.”

“Raph, look at me.”

“No.”

“I said look at me-!”

Leonardo grabbed Raphael, and before the younger of the two could even react, he had been turned around to face the oldest, and he knew that Leonardo could see the blood now, he could see the bruises and scrapes, and shoot, he looked concerned. Raphael could only feel bad, because now his brother went looking for him, already worried, just to find him hurt.

“Oh,” Leonardo said dumbly, probably at a loss for words, “I see.”

“It’s really nothin’ to be worried ‘bout, Leo. It’s not deep-”

Leonardo tightened his grip on Raphael’s shoulder to shut him up, meeting his gaze clearly. “You realize how long you’ve been gone? You left an hour ago, Raph. We all went looking for you, and we couldn’t find you, because there’s not much to be seen in this little space of sewer. Mikey got cold, Donnie had to check on something, and I stayed, I kept looking for you and even asked for permission to go further in the sewers, just in case.

And then? I found blood, Raph, I found your blood, leading here. You freaking scared me, I thought you were really hurt, or worse!”

And of course, Leonardo found his blood, that hyper-aware son of a gun- The nicknamed “Fearless” was afraid, for him- And his brother was still going, now bombarding him with questions about it.

“Who did this to you? Where are they? How’d this happen? You need to see Sensei or Don, are you alright? You look pale, we really need to get back, everybody is worried and-”  Leonardo cut off as Raphael sniffled, looking down and not at him anymore.

He rubbed his eyes, sniffled again, and then sobbed, crumpling down and taking Leonardo with him as he cried.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-! I just-” he gasped for air between the sobs, a low whine leaving him before he kept going, “I got so angry, and I didn’t want to stay down here, I felt trapped and I went up to the surface,” Leonardo's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything, thankfully, letting the younger tell his story, “I- I got up to a roof and I heard these dudes laughing, they were mugging this girl, Leo! They were gonna hurt her so- So I interfered, and I know you’re gonna say that was risky but I couldn’t just do nothing! They ganged up and took me down, and kicked me around some to rub it in,” he doesn’t mention that they were hurtful verbally, too. That part wasn’t important, “Then- Then they dumped me back in the sewers about a mile or two back, and I came here.”

He realized that Leonardo was digging his fingers into his own thigh, eye ridges furrowed as his jaw tensed. He was angry, and Raphael couldn't help but wonder-

“Are you mad at me..?”

Leonardo paused, and his facial expression relaxed. In fact, he almost looked hurt by the question, gaze softening as he looked Raphael over.

After a long moment of silence, he answered, his conviction clear in his answer, “...Not at you, I’m not angry at you, I’m the one who made you go up in the first place. I’m angry at them. They’re stupid and cruel, and you’re one of the coolest people I know.”

“...Leo, you only know four people.”

“Shut up and take the compliment before I take it back.”

Raphael sniffled again and then laughed softly, shoulders shaking from it. “Alright, fine, fine. I know I’m cool, anyway.”

Leonardo grinned, wide and happy, and Raphael was a little relieved that the other was feeling better. He was, too, he realized. Somehow, that dork had managed to cheer him up (and he’d have to thank him for it later, but not verbally. He’d find something nice or Space Heroes-related and leave it in his room for him).

“I’ll be right back,” Leonardo said suddenly, standing up and racing off.

Raphael paused, confused at the sudden disappearance of his brother. What the..? But he didn’t leave, he just leaned back and waited, picking at the bandages on his hands while he waited. When Leonardo returned, it was with some bandages, water, and disinfectant, and he was beaming, proud of what he had done.

Without speaking, he crouched back down, cleaning up the injury to keep it from infecting. Raphael hissed and winced from the sting as it fizzed, but he made sure to be nice and still while Leonardo worked on bandaging him up.

But, as he was finishing up- “I’m gonna kill those people..” Leonardo had muttered it, just barely loud enough for Raphael to hear, but it was definitely concerning to hear.

“Wait- What?” he had to double-check to make sure that he had heard the other correctly.

“What ‘what’? I didn’t say anything, we need to get home anyway. I’m sure if you’re honest, Splinter won’t be too harsh with the punishment for going up,” Leonardo brushed that off way too casually, standing up.

“No wait-” Raphael stammered, hopping up after him.

“I said, let’s go home, Raph.”