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The new lair wasn't home yet, Raphael knew that very well. It was around the same area, not too far from the long twisting dim lit, smoke scented tunnels and broken turnstiles and even some of the rooms looked the same. They patched it up pretty good, even recovering some mementos that had been thought to be destroyed in the battle against Shredder.
So much had been lost. Karai, their weapons, their home, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, even Todd.
His eyes lazily scanned the walls. There were the usual knickknacks, his Ghost Bear poster, ninja gear, exclusive, one of a kind, Jupiter Jim action figures, his prized collection of teddy bears from Teddy Bear Town and...
He squeezed the small blanket as tight as he could. It was ruined now, ripped with holes from all the times he tried to snuggle with it as a kid. His stupid spikes always got in the way. That blanket, as warm as it felt, always seemed to give him a strange, sinking feeling inside.
The memory was blurry, faded with time after being more than a decade ago, but Raph could remember it like it was yesterday.
He was four years old and exhausted, clutching his favorite red blanket for comfort as he padded his little legs towards Splinter's recliner. He hadn't even noticed Leo and Donnie toddling behind him. They were his shadows.
"Papa?" He whispered, careful not to bother Mikey, who was being rocked in dad's arms. "Papa," He repeated, pulling on the sleeve of Splinter's robe. He knew he heard him. He saw the mutant rat's ear twitch. At that moment, he realized Raph didn't say please. Maybe that was why Papa was ignoring him. So he tried again. "Papa, please listen!"
"What is it, Raphael?" Splinter mumbled, not even sparing him a glance. He rocked Mikey harder when he started to get fussy.
"I'm sleepy," He said, wishing he was small enough to be held in dad's arms like baby Mikey. Even Donnie and Leo could be picked up for cuddles. But Raph couldn't. Because he was too big and too spiky.
"M' sleepy!" Leo echoed. "Donnie sleepy too." The slider pointed at his mute twin, who could barely keep his eyes open.
"Can you read us a story please?" asked Raph hopefully. He tried his best to not mumble.
"Yeah, a story!"
Splinter sighed wearily. "Not tonight, kids. Raphael, take Michelangelo please-" he handed off the two-year-old box turtle to Raph. "Scorpion Treadmill will be on soon. You can read the others a story."
Raph scrunched his beak, fully aware he didn't know how to read yet. Donnie could, but he had yet to utter a single word in the three whole years he had been alive.
"Okay dad," He mumbled in disappointment. "Let's go guys." He stopped, trying one last tactic. "Dad, hug Raphie goodnight?"
Splinter turned up the television to drown out his voice.
Raph ended up having to make up stories to his brothers until they settled down for bed---which took nearly an hour thanks to Leo being extremely hyperactive all of a sudden. He wrapped them in his favorite blanket, leaving him no space to curl next to them or get any of the warmth himself. But it was alright. It's what he expected.
He just wished the sewers weren't so cold as he drifted off, Dad's television show humming in the background.
Raph rolled over and sat up, remembering he couldn't waste time in bed. He had agreed to meet Cassandra today- er, tonight. Now, the former Foot Clan member and he were not exactly close friends, but she seemed to be trying to make an effort to be good, so he was willing to give her a shot. Besides, he could do with having a chat with someone who was not his family.
He put the blanket down and opened the wine red curtains, brushing past and heading towards the lairs exit. He only made it half way when he bumped into Donnie. He froze, meeting the purple teen's eyes. He hadn't really spoken to them in days, and they looked at him with tired eyes, hands wrapped around a thermos with a hot drink inside- mostly likely black coffee. Raph could smell the bitterness.
"Hey Dee," He greeted gently, hoping to ease any uncomfortable tension.
They gave him a quick, confused look, ducked their head, and slipped right past him as though he was a ghost and straight into their lab with a loud slam for emphasis.
He sighed in frustration, although he wasn't offended. Donnie was going through their own thing. He wouldn't judge. That didn't mean it didn't sting every time they gave him the cold shoulder. If they needed Raph, they would come to it. It was the reality of being the oldest. He was the reliable, responsible older brother without any problems or complaints of his own.
Making his way topside was a challenge. Not only was he tired, moody, and hated being alone, but he couldn't even complain about it. Who would want to listen? April, maybe but even then, he didn't like bothering his sister over such trivial, meaningless nonsense.
He wasn't sure if it was worth keeping the facade.
It was surprisingly chilly for an evening in June, a gentle breeze wisping by his skin when he pushed open the manhole cover and squeezed through. Everything felt so much heavier. His muscles, his joints, his eyes. He wanted to nap. Maybe after his hang out with Cass, he would go right back to bed.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Big Red?"
Raph turned, shoulders relaxing from their tense state when he saw the vigilante teen. It was odd seeing Cassandra without her usual Foot Clan uniform, but he liked her reformed outfit way better. Clad in black jeans, a red top, jean jacket and a hockey mask, she looked cooler than ever.
"Heh, how's it going Cassandra?"
She rolled her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Casey. All my friends do."
He paused. "Are we friends?"
Casey shrugged. "Sure." She stepped forward, her backpack swinging behind slightly. "So, what's up with you? You seem a little twitchy."
Raph stiffened defensively. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean stressed out. Didn't even know turtles could sweat."
"I'm not..." He trailed off, trying to find the right words to say to possibly defend himself. His mind drew a blank and he continued to fidget anxiously. "Okay, I might be a little, teeny tiny bit stressed. But it ain't a big deal, honestly."
"No shame in that, Big Red," Casey said, her scratchy voice sounding surprisingly genuine "It's been rough, huh? The whole Shredder fiasco, an' the blue one takin' your job, oof. That's how I felt when I found out I was being used the whole time. So I get it."
Raph winced at the truth behind her statements. "Can we change the subject?"
Casey nodded. "No probs. Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. But hey, you know what I do when I'm pissed off?"
Raph honestly did not know the answer to that, so he simply tilted his head to one side.
"I crush the skulls of my enemies until they become nothing but dust!" She cackled menacingly, abruptly stopping when she saw Raph's alarmed look. "Oh, right, I'm a good guy now. Oops. What I meant to say was, I play some street hockey."
"Street hockey." Raph repeated, not sure where she was going with this, but still intrigued.
"You didn't think my backpack was just full of homework and pencil cases, did you?"
"Er..."
"Ha!" She pulled out two battered hockey sticks and tossed one to Raph. "Whenever I was bored as a kid, I'd play some hockey to pass the time. Since my family was dirt poor, we never went to any ice rinks, so I obviously had to make do," Noticing Raph's confused stare, she elaborated. "The Foot only took me in when I was seven. Heck, I even taught Brute and Lieutenant some of it too."
"You were in the Foot that long?" Raph scrunched his beak. "That's ten years..." He couldn't imagine a child basically being raised by some flame headed weirdos, training to be a fighter. There was no way they were good role models. He blinked, having a slight epiphany by the realization of their shared pasts and with more questions popping in his head about Cassandra Jones.
Casey's expression darkened. "Does it matter how long I was there? No. I've moved on, I'm trying to do better than my past self," She then quickly moved and added: "You know how hockey works, right?"
"I think so. You just score the puck into the goal."
"The goals will be improvised," she flipped a trash can over on its side. "That's your goal-" she walked across from him and did the same to another. "And this one's mine. As for the puck," She tapped an empty soda can with her stick. "Ready?"
He didn't have a chance to utter a response before she raised her hockey stick triumphed and ran straight for the dented soda can at full speed. "Goongala!" She whacked it with all her might, whirling past Raph's head and landing into the trash can. "Score!"
"Hey, I wasn't ready!" Raph wrinkled his nose, embarrassed by his delayed reaction. Normally he would have blocked that with no problem. "Also Goongala? What does that even mean?"
Casey stared at him as though she hadn't quite thought of a witty response to that. Or anything at all. "Dunno. But it's fun to yell."
Raph ended up scoring a few points, with Casey eager to guide him along the way.
"How about this time you try saying my catchphrase."
"Goo...gongala?"
She made a face. "It sounds dumb when you say it. Maybe you should stick to that Warm Soup thing."
"Warm soup?" He sputtered, taking the 'puck' out from the trash and whacking his own stick with it. "Nah. It's Hot Soup!"
But he hit it just a smidgen too hard. The soda can went flying- but not into the opposite trash can as he intended. It went whirling around and smacked directly into the nearest floor ground apartment window. The added impact caused it to smash a cracked dent made in the glass, immortalized in the window permanently by his own stupidity.
Raph stared at the damage in horror, in disbelief that he actually did that. He backed away, dropped his stick and started shaking like a leaf.
"Woo-hoo! Now that is definitely an extra three points for you, Big Red. You even cracked the glass!"
He heard Casey cheer, but it was all disorienting and distant. As though she was shouting those words from across a football field or underwater. It didn't even sound like cheering. No, she was yelling. She was yelling at him.
You messed it up. You ruined it. You broke it! That's all you do. Screw things up. What kind of brother are you?
Worst.
Brother.
"No...no...no I didn't mean to!" He babbled, panting like he had just finished running a marathon. He felt so cold, so dizzy, so faint. He was falling, he was dying, he was-
He was back in the old lair. The kitchen, by the looks of it- though it seemed so much bigger. Leo raced in, grinning eagerly as he carried Laceface under his arm.
"Found Laceface!" He exclaimed. "Let's play now."
"I dunno," Raph already had a bad feeling about this. "Maybe we should not do it in the kitchen."
"We could do it in the tunnels! There's lots and lots of open space!" Mikey suggested. The youngest brother was wiggling with excitement, unable to stay still.
"Yeah, but there's better obstacles in here," said Leo matter of factly. "It makes the game harder."
"Oooh good point."
"What game are we even playing?" Donnie adjusted his glasses owlishly, always disinterested in every single sport. And who could blame him, really? Donnie was hopeless at all of them. So it was no shock he seemed less than thrilled.
"Extreme Football!" Leo held the ball over his head, cackling maniacally with pure glee. "The rules are simple. Pass the ball around by kicking or throwing. Don't get hit in the face."
"I don't like this game."
"You don't like any game!"
"Guys!" Raph said sharply. "Just be careful, okay? We'll play a little but no breaking anything."
The game was pretty uneventful and actually fun for a while. Mikey especially loved the bouncing aspect of it. So far, it looked great. Until Leo decided to get a little too cocky.
The slider leaped on the table, swinging Laceface back and forth for momentum. "Ladies and gentleman, Leonardo braves the most difficult challenge ever known to turtlekind! Will he do it? Of course he will!"
"Leo, get down from there," Raph scolded, but Leo wasn't finished.
"He shoots annnnnnd-" Leo aimed directly at Donnie, smirking. With one last move, he threw the ball at the stunned softshell- smacking the boy right in the face and knocking him to the ground. "He scores! And the crowd goes wild! Go Leo! Go Leo!"
It did not register that he may have tossed the ball a little too hard. While he was doing his victory dance, Donnie had fallen to the ground, flat on his back with broken glasses. Although he was not physically harmed, no bumps or bruises to be seen, the sudden, brief pain caused him to immediately burst into tears.
"Donnie!" Mikey shrieked, coming to his brother's side. "It's okay, you're okay!" Raph meanwhile helped scoop the broken glass shards away.
"M-m-my glasses!" Donnie wailed, snot dribbling down his hoodie.
Leo promptly stopped his dancing to check on his twin, rushing over. "Donnie I'm so sorry I didn't mean to, it was an accident!"
That only made Donnie sob harder.
"Shhh, Don, it's gonna be alright," Raph crouched down to wipe his tears. "Just a lil bump, right? Nothing hurts?"
It seemed Donnie was only crying from the shock, and Raph was relieved and let his little brother cling onto him.
"I really didn't mean to," Leo mumbled, trembling.
"I know, Leo. It's okay," He ended up having to hug all of his brothers. Donnie was crying from the obvious, Leo, from the guilt, and Mikey because everyone else was crying.
"What is going on here? Why is everyone screaming?" A cranky looking Splinter rubbed his eyes, entering the kitchen to see 75% of his kids sobbing their eyes out.
Mikey stood up and ran towards his father immediately. "We were playin' with Laceface and then Leo kicked him so the ball went soaring through the air and smacked Donnie right in the face so now his glasses got all broken!" He stated this without taking a single breath.
Donnie's whimpers turned into squeaky hiccups.
"Blue, is that true?" Splinter asked softly, inching around the broken glass to get closer to his children.
"It was an accident!" Leo said defensively. "I didn't wanna hurt him! And...I said I was sorry. Honest I did."
"That's good," Papa patted Donnie's flat carapace. "There there, Purple. No need to cry, they're only glasses," His eyes narrowed at Raph in an accusatory way. "Red, how could you let this happen?"
Raph's eyes bugged out, shocked at being called out like that."I didn't- I didn't know this would-"
"You are the oldest, you should know better to not let your brothers play in the kitchen. Now say sorry to your brothers."
The snapper was outraged. How could he possibly be scolded when he wasn't even the one who hurt Donnie? He bit his lip. "I'm...sorry."
"Now Raphael help me clean up this mess."
It still felt like he was still cleaning that mess, years and years later. He clamped his fists over his ear slits, hissing out anxious words to himself.
"Raph? Raph?"
"Stop yelling at me!" He begged and fell to his knees. "I'm trying my best!"
"Woah there," He felt a palm touch his back spikes, rubbing them. "It's only me, big guy. Breathe with me, can you hear my breaths? In and out," Raph nodded, following the voice's instructions. "Good. There ya go."
"What...where?" He opened his eyes to see Casey staring at him.
She smiled sadly. "You froze up on me. You were staring off into space and kept whispering. You actually scared me a little. And Casey Jones isn't scared of anything."
"I...didn't realize." He meekly shook his head. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," She assured him. "It happens to me too sometimes. When pressure builds up and then," she mimed an explosion.
"I'm alright now. I'm safe. Thanks to you. I just...when I saw that broken window- that I caused- I had a memory. It was like, like a..."
"Flashback?" She supplied.
"Yeah, that."
"Does that happen a lot?"
"Not usually," replied Raph. "Only when I'm stressed, or like you said when pressure builds up. It started back up the night after Leo was made leader. I kept feeling like I wasn't good enough to be a leader, when my whole life I was trained to be just that. A good older brother sure, but ultimately a leader.
And then, after I led the guys to take down the Shredder, I thought-" His palm lowered to his cheek. "I thought I did good for once- the one thing that I'm actually good at. The one thing that distincts me from them. Then it was stripped away from me. Sorry, I'm rambling nonsense now."
"You aren't, I get what you're saying. Not entirely since I don't have brothers and I was never a fancy schmancy leader or anything but I can understand to some extent," Casey looked at him solemnly. "You're wrong though."
"What?"
"You said that you're only good at being an older brother and leader. That's wrong." She folded her arms stubbornly. "I can't count how many times we've fought against each other, with most of the times you beating me. You have skills, Raphael. You've got strength and loyalty and bravery and things I wish I possessed but don't. And ...for the record, you're not completely terrible at street hockey."
He brightened. "You really mean that?"
"Of course I do. If you're Dad can't see how much of a fierce warrior you are, then that's his problem. And, with your blessing I would like to ask if we could be friends."
Raph smirked. "I thought you said we were already friends, Cass."