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Raph is a big brother to three reckless, insanely talented, chaotic trouble-magnets, and while he would never trade it for the world, sometimes it felt like the world was out to get them with how often they found themselves between a rock and a hard place.
In this case, it’s literal.
“Mikey,” Raph grits out, arms straining against the heavy load he’s just barely keeping from crashing on top of both him and his youngest brother.
From underneath him, Mikey groans, the sound upticking into a whine when Mikey tries to move. There’s minimal light down here, but Raph’s got the sense for little brothers in trouble. He watches with bated breath as Mikey twitches, eyes cracking open.
“Raphie?” Mikey croaks.
“Here, Mike,” Raph huffs. “You hurt?”
Mikey lets out another whine.
“Words, big man,” Raph says. The ceiling drops another half centimeter despite his best efforts. “I can’t—I can’t check you over right now, so I need you to help me out, okay?”
“Leg,” Mikey tells him. “Think ‘m pinned. Dizzy.”
“Okay,” Raph says, brain scrambling for a plan. For literally anything to help him get him and Mikey out of here. Donnie and Leo are much better thinkers, and they’d be out of here within minutes, probably.
Raph isn’t Donnie. Raph isn’t Leo. Raph is the oldest brother with the brain that’s got one half on the ceiling buckling above them and the other half on his injured little brother he’s hunched over. He doesn’t do plans like his other brothers do.
Panicking , Raph realizes. He’s panicking, and that’s not gonna help any.
“Okay,” Raph says again, more to himself than anything. He’s gotta keep talking or he’s going to go crazy. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do—fuck.”
Mikey wheezes in response to the ceiling around them starting to tremble. Raph’s muscles bulge against the weight, and he’s forced the drop to one knee. Miraculously, nothing but dust rains down on them.
“Raph,” Mikey whispers. He sounds terrified. “Raphie, what are we—”
Raph grits his teeth when Mikey dissolves into a series of coughs.
“Don’t try to talk right now,” Raph tells him. “We probably need to, uh, save our air. Can you move at all?”
“My leg,” Mikey says, shaking his head.
Right. Raph forgot about that. Mikey had said his leg was pinned. But if Raph moves to help Mikey, there’s a chance the ceiling won’t hold its own weight. They’ll both be crushed.
“Can you sit up? Try and free your leg?”
Mikey says nothing. He doesn’t move for several seconds, long enough that a creeping sense of dread starts to build up in Raph’s chest. Because he can’t be alone in this. As much as he wishes that Mikey wasn’t in this situation with him, Raph doesn’t think he would last long alone without completely bugging out.
Mikey is his anchor in this. Mikey is how Raph is going to keep his head on straight enough to find a way out of here.
Mikey pushes himself to his elbows, wheezing again as he shifts. It’s too dim to see any specifics, but Mikey seems to be having trouble staying upright.
But Mikey is just as stubborn as the rest of them. He pushes himself fully upright.
The next few minutes are lost to Raph as he struggles against his failing muscles to keep the ceiling from crushing them further. He hears gasps of pain from Mikey, sees jerky movements, smells the coppery scent of fresh blood.
“I’m out,” Mikey says. His voice is weak and shaky, but he’s closer to Raph now. Close enough to lean his head on Raph’s plastron. “What now?”
Raph pauses a moment, and then nods to himself. He can do this. He’s not Donnie or Leo, not smart as a whip or a natural at thinking on his feet, but Raph is strong, and he has a baby brother tucked close to him.
“Raph’s gotcha,” he says.
And he activates his ninpo.