Work Text:
When the Kraang wormed underneath his mask, Raph expected it to hurt. Instead, it itched.
His entire right eye, across his skull, down his neck and arm, it all itched so much. It overwhelmed all of his senses until all he could think about was the urge to scratch it out, the urge to tear off his own skin if only to satiate the feeling creeping along his right side. He couldn't think about what it was crawling underneath his eye. He couldn't think about the booming, deep voice in the back of his mind.
He couldn't even think about the feeling of his own brother’s body underneath his claws.
His brother, Leo, who talked until Raph could finally listen. Who dragged him back from the haze of pain he was in. Who fought tooth and nail to prove himself to his family, to the world. Who sacrificed himself and told him he was just trying to be like Raph.
And all Raph had been thinking about while almost killing Leo was how much his stupid eye itched.
What kind of hero did that make him? What kind of brother did that make him?
He tried to ignore it, he really did. He tried to put his brothers first. Mikey needed his arms patched up, Donnie needed his shell cleaned and bandaged, and Leo needed literal life support. Raph only needed to help his brothers. They were more important, they needed him, and Raph wasn’t going to let them hurt any more than he already had.
So he kept a near constant watch over Leo. He was the one to convince Donnie to let them take care of his shell. He held Mikey’s shaking hands as his little brother cried.
He could be a good brother. Even if he hurt them. He could still fix it.
Leo woke up again after two days, disoriented and terrified, as if the Kraang had followed him into his dreams. When he clung to Raph like a lifeline, Raph couldn't help but feel a rush of relief that Leo wasn’t afraid of him, too.
“You’re okay,” he reassured his sobbing brother, “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
Leo clung harder, clutching around Raph’s neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Raphie, I’m sorry—”
“Shh, don’t apologize,” Raph said immediately. “We can talk about it later, okay? Just calm down. Take deep breaths…”
Leo did as he was told, but he didn’t let go of Raph. If anything, his grip got tighter as he regained his composure.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked when he had stopped crying.
“Me?” Raph patted Leo gently on the shell. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”
“Everything hurts,” was Leo’s tired answer. “I wanna check you over.”
“I said I’m fine, Leo.”
Leo pulled back from the hug and glared at him with watery eyes. “I wanna check you over.”
Raph hesitated. He couldn't say no and still be a good brother, could he? The itching might return, the pain might multiply, it might scare him half to death to let someone inspect him, but he had to comply. After all, what if the Kraang still had a hold of him?
I’d be putting Leo in danger.
“You can check me over later,” Raph lied, half hating himself for it and half relieved that he found a work around that made sense to him. He couldn't let the Kraang hurt Leo more. He couldn't let himself hurt Leo more. He’d check it himself. “Do you want me to get the others?”
Leo’s eyes widened and he nodded quickly. Successfully distracted. Raph messaged the others and Donnie, Mikey, and April were in the room in under a minute. As the chatter in the room grew, as everyone focused on Leo, Raph slipped out.
He’d check it himself. Alone.
The reflection in the bathroom mirror was almost unrecognizable. It should’ve been himself. It should’ve felt normal.
But when he looked in the mirror, all he saw was a Raph that wasn’t him. A Raph with a few scars and a slightly swollen eye, nothing more.
He felt like he had been injured more than this. Sure, he had a few nicks in his arm from helping Mikey open the portal, and he was sporting a new scar across his left shoulder where the Kraang had cut through his shell, but there wasn’t nearly as much damage as he should have. Where were the scars from all the places the Kraang had dug into him? Where were the blood stains from all the pain he had been in? Where was the red and raw skin from where the itching had become so unbearable he couldn't form a single coherent thought?
This wasn’t right.
He leaned forward and pulled off his mask. His eye looked worse without it. There were hairline scars stemming from the socket, which explained the small tears in his mask. A ring of purple bruising was set around it like he had been punched. And there was a slight discoloration, now that he was looking closely. His right eye was just a tiny bit lighter than his right. Like there was a film over it.
He leaned even closer and used his fingers to open his eye wider. The tiny red veins in the corners seemed longer. Like they were stretching across his eye, aiming to envelop it and turn him back into the monster, force him back under the Kraang’s control—
He heaved a breath that didn’t feel like his own. He let go of the face that couldn't belong to him. He stepped back and let the shell that felt all wrong hit the opposite wall.
He was too big for this bathroom. He was built like a machine, a monster that the Kraang had recognized and controlled and used. Everything felt sharper, suddenly. He was supposed to use this body to be a hero, wasn’t he? So why were his brothers covered in bandages from wounds that were his fault?
Something twitched in his eye. His right hand ached suddenly, spasmed where it hung at his side, then fell still.
The itch was back.
He sank to the floor and tried to make himself back into what he was before. Something harmless, something clumsy and stupid, something big but good. Something he wasn’t anymore.
It didn’t hurt. It just itched.