Work Text:
Raph doesn't know what they did to earn Splinter's trust back, but it really shouldn't have been enough.
Leo calls the command. "Again."
Donnie cringes, and Raph evens out his shortened breath in preparation. Mikey shifts foot-to-foot on the moonlit rooftop and whines, "Oh come on, Leo. Do we have to?"
The leader fixes him with a look. He always has a look now--but not the kind he used to have. This is something new and dangerous. It's almost haunted, like Leo's seeing ghosts. Or future failures. Whatever it is, Raph's not a fan.
But Splinter gave them the okay to train solo tonight, so it's the leader's call. Like clockwork, they fall into position. The exercise begins once more. And by exercise, he means Leo beating the shell out of everyone. It takes mere minutes for the round to end.
"Again!" And again. Again. The others get good hits in, as usual. Then Leo knocks them out of the park--worse than usual. It's painfully impressive. He's a force of nature: an onslaught of attacks, quicker than lightning, all precision and power. He's fighting angry. And he's good at it.
Mikey taps out not ten minutes later. Folded on the ground, he groans breathlessly, "Ow! Alright, alright! I'm done. I'm out."
Leo relinquishes his hold on Mikey and rolls to the side. Normally, there would be an indication of relief or achievement on his face--maybe a smug mug that his brothers would want to knock off him. Hell, Raph would settle for a disappointed 'were you even trying' frown. But there's something unforgiving, something unsteady in his hardened expression. He's fighting angry, but Raph can't even tell who he's pointing the anger at anymore. He's good at it. Leo's the last one of their team who needs more training, but he doesn't seem to believe that. What is he trying to prove here? To who?
Mikey limps off to the side, grumbling. Raph tracks him, but nothing looks to be hurting worse than his Battle-Nexus Champion pride. And usually, putting their little brother in his place would be hilarious. Usually. But watching Mikey ease himself down the fire escape only leaves Raph in discomfort.
Then Leo climbs to a stand and calls, "Break's up, you two. Let's run it again." Ha. As if those 30 seconds of wheezing on the ground and watching him wrestle Mikey into submission count as a break. Even at his most pushy, Splinter would give them an even minute.
Donnie swears under his breath, huffing as he struggles to pull himself off the ground. Raph assists him wordlessly, standing alongside his twin. Donnie nods his thanks, an obvious dismissal, but he has yet to steady himself, so Raph remains beside him. Splinter would call for an actual break if he saw this scene unfold in front of him. He would've ended this show a few rounds ago. Yet Leo falls into default position again, persistent.
Raph states the obvious. "Leo, we should call it here. Sun's up in a few hours anyway."
Leo huffs a humorless laugh, "We've gone longer than this since we were kids, Raph. Our timing's still off. We're running the drill again."
"But we've never run it this intense for this long, bro," Raph argues, his freshly healed lungs still burning. "'Specially while on the mend. I love sparring as much as you do, but we ain't ready for this right now."
Leo stares him down, "If we don't keep training, then we'll never be ready, Raph. That's why Splinter let me take charge on this in the first place."
"If Master Splinter was here right now, he would've ended this low excuse for training an hour ago, and we both know it!"
Leo stiffens, and Raph tightens his grip on his brother slightly. Donnie glances between the two of them in anticipation. He pants, regret instant on his face even as he offers placatingly, "I mean, we can.. we can try it again. I just need a second-"
"Hear that, Raph? Don says he's still up for it. If you need it that badly, then sit this one out with Mikey." Leo slides into his ready stance. Donnie can't even catch his breath properly, and all Leo can see is another drill to run.
This is going too far, even for Raph. He steps in front of his twin, firm, "No. We're done here. Donnie said he needs a breather, so that's what he's getting."
Leo doesn't make the move to attack again, falling out of stance, but his set jaw give away his desire to. "Our enemies won't give him one." His persistent glare falls onto Donnie's exhausted form, and his face shifts. He redirects, "Why can't you see that I'm trying to get this team back into fighting shape, Raph? What's so wrong about that?"
Raph scoffs, the words he's been battling half the night finally crawling out of his throat, "If you can't even listen to your team during training, how the hell are you going to lead it into a real fight?"
It's a very quiet trek home after that. Man, and Raph thought wanting to knock Leo upside the head would make training with him more fun.
---
Splinter greets them warmly, smile instantly thinning at the sorry state he sees. He manages to talk Leo into joining him in another room--no doubt to debrief. There goes any chance of solo sparring for the forseeable future. Raph should be more upset about that. He heavily values his independence. Yet he can only feel relief like an overblown balloon in his chest, finally releasing a little air but still holding pressure.
After Raph checks on them, Mikey and Donnie go off on their own to let off some steam. He doesn't mind; he has some of his own to blow off. No April to talk him down and no Casey to distract him tonight. Just him and the home gym equipment and his thoughts.
And, later on, Michelangelo.
"Dude, have you been doing that since we got home?"
Raph pauses to take in his brother's presence in the doorway, settling the swinging punching bag. He doesn't grace the question with an answer, instead asking, "What do you want, Mike?"
Mikey isn't fazed by the tone. At least he's feeling a little better. He says breezily, "Just checkin' in, bro. Besides, Don fell asleep on me halfway through a marathon, and I have a feeling no one else is up for some good ol' Mikey-time right now."
Good to get an update on his twin, too, however small. Raph shakes out his arms before he resumes his workout. He jokes, "And you thought I was the second-best option? Man, these really are hard times."
Mikey shakes his head dramatically, "Ugh, like you wouldn't believe."
Raph lets out a laugh, jabbing and weaving half-heartedly. "C'mon, Mikey, It's late. Early. I don't know. You should take Donnie's advice. Go pass out to cartoons or something."
Mikey raises his 'brow,' unimpressed, "And let the turtles with a case of the 'tudes run the place? I don't think so."
Raph ignores that comment and its implied other turtle. He doesn't want to think about the fact that Leo's somewhere out there right now, being moody and sulky and an asshole. Maybe feeling guilty. And feeling alone. But probably still being a major asshole.
Mikey can't help himself though as he pushes on, "Y'know how everyone always says that you should verbalize your feelings-"
"Do they now?"
"-so c'mon! We can get some pizza, read some comics, talk it all out. Whaddya say?"
Raph thinks aloud, "Let's see. I'm angry." A kick. "I want to hit something." Two punches. "And if I have to read one more of your comic books, that something is gonna become someone." The punching bag swings forcefully against the final blow. "That verbal enough for you, Mikey?"
Mikey frowns at the display, "Yeesh. You'd think Leo's torture gauntlet would've gotten that crap out of your system."
"Yeah," Raph agrees, spinning into another kick, "You'd think."
Quiet breezes by them softly, accompanied by progressively looser, infrequent hits to the leather bag. Mikey fully steps into the room and stands behind the bag, steadying it. He watches Raph's hands carefully find their target as he prods further, "..Gonna say something to him?"
The punches sharpen again. Raph says shortly, "Feels like I already did."
Mikey hums, making a so-so gesture with a free hand. "Mm, I guess. Feels like you wanna say a lot more than you got to, though. He probably does too."
Raph huffs, "What, you his messenger or somethin'? If he really wanted to, he'd be the one down here talking it out and tryin' to make it work, not you. I'm not fighting that fight, Mike, so drop it already. He wants to keep his head up his ass? I say let 'em."
Mikey's volume lowers, a hurt note slipping into his tone. "You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" Raph challenges, refusing to look his brother in the eye. He punches again. And again.
Then Mikey makes the ridiculous move to step in front of the bag, face upset yet determined. Raph jerks his flying hand back on instinct, but Mikey catches it anyways, turning it over and inspecting. Before Raph can get a word out, Mikey sighs, "Dude, you didn't even wrap your hands."
Raph blinks. His hands burn. Ah. Yeah. He may have forgotten that part. He flounders for his next words while his baby brother examines the damage. He finally says, "In my defense, I haven't been doing this the whole time."
Mikey snorts, "Yeah. Like that makes a difference after how hard you went on that bag." He flexes Raph's fingers, cringing at the bruises already formed. "Yikes, dude. That's gonna suck for the next few weeks."
Most likely. Raph winces as he prods, but he doesn't pull away. Actually, Mikey pulls him away--dragging him into the living room where Donnie's snoozing against the arm of the couch, the tv playing on low volume. Mikey deposits him on the sofa and returns with the first-aid kit they had just restocked the week previous.
Mikey tends to him with a quiet gentleness Raph doesn't often see. He chatters away, of course. He switches from his comics to the show on the screen to being a brat over his older brother's carelessness. Anything and everything. Raph lets himself sit in the soft moment, belong to it.
"-I mean, Donnie's always on about his new gadgets and prototypes. There's gotta be a smart-punching bag blueprint laying around here somewhere. You know, to make up for the lack of smarts you've got going on- hey! Kidding! I'm kidding! I wasn't done wrapping that, dude, come on!"
Raph relents, handing himself back over to his brother. "Fine, but one more smart comment outta you, and you'll be the punching bag." It's an (mostly) empty threat. At least, until his knuckles can catch a break. Then it's on.
Mikey grins, ready to fire back, but Donnie stirs next to them. "No more punching today, please," He groans sleepily, stretching out before peeling his eyes open a fraction.
"Mornin', sunshine," Raph teases. "Enjoy your nap?"
"Hardly. Mikey's show wormed its way into my dreams." He shudders as he relives whatever he must have witnessed. Then he really looks at the scene in front of him and sits up, more awake. "Woah, what happened? Did-? You and Leo..?"
Raph shakes his head, "Nah, took it out on Casey's bag. I'm good, Don. Really." Donnie studies him intently, looking for the catch, but the fight bleeds from him when he can't find one. He scoots closer and pats his twin's shell.
"Annddd voila! Dr. Mikey, M.D.'s work is complete. It's customary to clap." Mikey announces proudly, displaying his handiwork. Raph snatches his hands back and inspects them himself.
Donnie gives him a look, "You know, you don't have to say Dr. and M.D. together. They mean the same thing. Also, clapping is reserved for, say, beating cancer or doing some impossible operation. But for patching up bruised knuckles?"
Mikey looks completely offended, "Excuse me, Donatello, but to me, my brother's knuckles are just as important as anything else."
Raph nudges Mikey's arm in appreciation before the two of them can get into it. "Thanks, Mike. Looks great." He glances around the quiet space. The others are clearly trying to ignore it for everyone's sake, but it's itching at him now. He asks, "So, anyone got an idea where that idiot is?"
Donnie and Mikey share a silent glance. Donatello speaks first, "Uh, you sure that's a good idea right now?"
Raph sighs, honest, "I dunno. Someone's gotta check on the shellhead though. Make sure he's not doing something stupid he'll regret."
"Like busting his knuckles on punching bags?" Donnie jokes lightly.
Fair enough. Raph laughs, deflating a little more of the balloon in his chest, "Yeah. Somethin' like that." He stands, patting his boys firmly on their shells once before he goes.
"Okay, but Dr. Mikey M.D. isn't at the office anymore, so don't go breaking anything else, dude!" Mikey calls out as Raph exits, inciting another argument with Donnie.
--
It's the first break of dawn when Raph finds him, perched on a building facing the horizon. He pauses, settling his mind before he joins Leo on the ledge in silence. The sun is gorgeous, bright and bold colors bleeding onto the darkened skies. The air is crisp and awake in the city that never sleeps. Hundreds of feet from pavement and still the sounds float upwards towards their perch, reminding them of the life that surrounds them eternally. Never a true moment alone.
Neither make the move to speak. There's so much to say, so much time to say it in this moment. No prying turtle eyes, no sensitive rat ears or nosy, well-meaning friends. No enemies. Just two brothers. Raph glances at Leo's hands curiously, which have been gripping the concrete ledge. No bruises. He almost laughs when he feels Leo's sharp gaze land on his bright white bandages. Those razor eyes travel to Raph's face and stay there a minute. Raph pulls himself together and turns his head. They hold eye contact for only a second before staring back across their city. Without looking, Raph raises a fist slowly, openly. Leo debates himself a moment. Then his fist bumps into his brother's gently. That balloon gets a little lighter. They watch the sky greet the sun steadily as it always eventually does: with all the time in the world.