Chapter Text
Raph used to enjoy the night the freedom to explore the city. But now, it no longer brought him comfort. It wasn't being alone that bothered him. That didn't bother him at all. The thought of being a solo vigilante had always been something he wished for, even idealized. But being alone and feeling alone were two very different things.
He was beginning to feel loneliness, and yet somehow he had been spending more and more time by himself. His brothers didn't understand him. He was tired of being the "problem" that his brothers avoided when the silence became too heavy. It was a functional loneliness, a loneliness he chose because it was easier than looking into Mikey's eyes and seeing hesitation, easier than hearing Donnie change the subject when he approached, easier than feeling Leo's gaze always assessing, always measuring whether he was going to "lose control" again.
Raph was sitting in the corner of his room, his back against the cold wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. The dim light from his bedside lamp cast irregular shadows on the low ceiling. On the floor beside him, a small metal box hidden under a loose floorboard held his secret.
It had been three weeks since the last time. Since the last time he had opened that box. And yet, here he was. He'd thought maybe he wouldn't need it anymore, but who was he trying to fool?
It had started a long time ago, a few years back, with that damn exercise. He knew it was supposed to be superficial, just a joke, a game but he could still feel the arrows hitting his body sometimes. The worst part, though, was the voices. Voices he knew all too well.
Splinter had called it training to show how anger influenced his movements during a fight. The brothers had been given rubber, tipped arrows and ordered to shoot at him while taunting him. At the time, Raph had tried to convince himself it was just another training exercise. That the words didn't mean anything. That he could handle it.
But he hadn't handled it. Not during the exercise, and not after it.
That night, after everyone had gone to sleep, the words kept echoing in his head.
It was that night that he cut himself for the first time. He didn't even have the box yet, no blades, no plan to keep the cuts from getting infected. Just a shuriken and a need to feel something else.
Since then, he had returned to it whenever the anger and the pain or the voices became too loud. Until now. Three weeks. Three weeks without touching it.
And for a moment, Raph wanted to believe that maybe he had managed to stop.
The last time had been worse. It hadn't just been his arms, those cuts hadn't been enough, so he'd moved to another place he hadn't cut yet, another place to hide. From then on, it was the inside of his thigh. Hopefully no one would notice new bandages there, just as strange. A kind of punishment he inflicted on himself, a way to translate the pain he couldn't explain into something he could see, touch, control something he could use to get out of his head. It was stupid, he knew. It was sick. It was weak. And yet, it was what made the guilt of hurting the people around him diminish. It was poetic justice. For him to feel the pain he caused.
He was the strength. His role on the team was to be the muscle, the strongest son. But he didn't feel strong. He felt out of control, not just his anger, but his actions in general. Like a passenger in a foreign body. How many times had he heard his father say he needed to control his anger, that anger was his greatest weakness, that it was dangerous to those he loved? How many times had his brothers laughed when he exploded, as if him losing his temper was a joke him being a baby who only talked about how everyone loved Leo, how he was too impulsive. He had been trying to control his anger for as long as he could remember, but he had never succeeded. Some things worked for a while, but in the end, everything went back to the beginning.
Raph removed the bandages from his left arm, revealing the marks. The larger ones still weren't fully healed. They were a collection of lines across his skin. When he ran his hand over them, he could feel the raised texture. There was one that was still very red, he had cut too deep. He probably should have gotten stitches, but asking one of his brothers to do that was out of the question. He touched it with the tip of his finger, feeling the wound still tender.
He knew it didn't change anything. The anger was still there. The pain was still there. They still looked at him like he was a time bomb. They were still the ones who, most of the time, ended up being hit when his rage took over. But his mind would go quiet. He would focus on the physical pain, and the mental pain would become less intense for a while. During the day, he could touch the wounds. It was never as effective as new cuts, but it was a reminder.
He thought about what it would be like to disappear. Not die, not exactly. Just cease to exist. As if he had never been born. It would be easier for everyone. His father could finally focus on the brothers who actually deserved his attention. Leo would be the perfect leader, without the problematic brother ruining his plans. Donnie wouldn't have to complain, he'd spend much less time fixing the things Raph broke. Mikey wouldn't have to constantly worry about the possibility of being hurt.
Mikey.
The image of his younger brother, the broken helmet, the wide eyes of shock. Raph closed his eyes tightly, trying to push the memory away. It had been an accident. He hadn't wanted to hurt Mikey. But that didn't matter, did it? What mattered was that it had happened. For a moment, he'd thought he'd killed his own brother.
Raph picked up a new blade, and for a few minutes, his mind focused on the pain on the red that used to be his favorite color, now just the one that described him best. New cuts appeared, trying to avoid the one that still wasn't healed. When his head began to calm down, he stopped, cleaned the blade, and started disinfecting the cuts. He couldn't let them get infected, or his brothers might discover his pastime. He wrapped new bandages, hiding the evidence of what he'd done. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't stop.
He picked up his diary, a black, worn-out notebook with pages that had been stained by tears more times than he'd like to admit. He opened it to the last page: "I couldn't fake it well today. Leo said I've been 'calmer' lately. I wanted to punch him. And i did. I wanted to tell him it's not calm. It's exhaustion. It's the exhaustion of fighting myself every second of every day. They don't know that I count the minutes until I can be alone. That I plan the moments when I can hurt myself whether in fights or with the blades just to stop my thoughts for an instant."
He closed the diary and put it back in the box, next to the objects no one should see: the blades, the bandages, the disinfectant, a lighter, and a few magazines.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. Raph quickly pushed the floorboard back into place, hiding the box under the floor in case his brothers came into his room. He sat back down with a neutral expression. When the door opened, it was Donnie.
— Raph? Are you awake? We detected something on the radar. You need to come to the lab. — His brother said without much enthusiasm, probably forced by Leo to come get him.
Raph stood up, his mask of indifference already firmly in place. — I'm coming. — He said, as if it bored him.
Donnie hesitated for a second, as if he wanted to say something more, but he just shook his head and left. Raph waited until the footsteps faded before letting out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.
— It's nothing. — He said to himself. — It's just a mission. Focus on that. Think about the mission.
But even as he prepared to leave, his hand touched the spot where one of his most recent wounds was hidden.
The command room was in an uproar when Raph arrived. Donnie was in front of the main screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard, while Leo watched with his usual air of authority. Mikey was sitting in a chair, eating a bag of chips, but even he seemed more serious than usual. Splinter was in the center, his hands resting on his staff, his eyes fixed on the screen.
— Raphael. — Splinter said without turning around. — I'm glad you've joined us. — Splinter spoke with his usual calm, not that Raph believed those words.
— What's going on? — Raph asked, crossing his arms. The movement reminded him of the wound on his arm, and he forced himself not to frown.
Donnie turned around, the spark of excitement in his eyes. — We've detected a massive energy fluctuation in an abandoned building in the industrial district. It used to belong to the Foot Clan before they left New York. Technically, it should be empty, but my sensors are picking up something consuming a huge amount of energy like enough to power an entire city. It's what's been causing the blackouts across the city.
— Any idea what could be causing that energy consumption? — Leo asked.
— The energy I'm detecting isn't just what the device is consuming, but also what it's emitting. It's like someone is trying to tear the fabric of time itself. — Donnie pulled up a graph on the screen. — The energy frequency is similar to what Renet used and to my own studies on time travel, but much more... crude. Less precise. Someone is trying to manipulate it somehow.
Mikey leaned forward. — Wait, wait, wait. Are they trying to time travel? Like Renet?
— Mikey, that's a good suggestion. — Donnie said, looking surprised by his brother's usually inattentive insight. — Which would be extremely dangerous. If the portal is poorly constructed, it could create a black hole, or worse, cause a collapse in the timeline. Even if it works correctly, it could have unpredictable consequences.
— Who would be doing something like this? — Leo asked.
Donnie pressed another key, bringing up a live feed from the building's security cameras his brother was very familiar with hacking the city's cameras. A familiar face appeared on the screen. Stockman. Baxter Stockman the fly mutant with the insane mind who had caused so many problems for the Hamato family. He was entering the building, accompanied by several people carrying various pieces of metal technology, all dressed as Foot ninjas.
— Stockman. And the Foot Clan.— Leo said, his voice heavy with suspicion.
Donnie continued. — Stockman never works alone. The foot Clan would not follow him. Someone with very specific resources must be behind this. Not that he wouldn't have reasons to try to change the course his life has taken.
— The Tiger Clan. — Raph said, pointing to the image of an arm in a car window, a tiger-striped arm that wouldn't have caught anyone's attention on a first viewing of the footage. Everyone turned to him, then to the image.
Donnie spoke as if he were talking more to himself than to the group. — He wants to change the timeline. It makes sense the Foot Clan lost control of New York. Their leader, the Shredder they must be trying to change that.
The silence in the room was heavy. Everyone remembered the battles against the Shredder. The thought of him returning was unbearable.
Splinter spoke. — The Tiger Clan has always been very loyal to the Shredder, even though the Shredder himself had no affinity for anyone. If they could bring the Shredder back, they could restore the Foot Clan's dominance.
— So how do we stop them? — Mikey asked, already jumping out of his chair. Raph answered his brother. — We go there and break his face.
— First, we find out what he's doing. — Leo said, his tone reprimanding his brother's impulsiveness. — Donnie, prepare your reconnaissance equipment. We'll observe before we act. If Stockman is trying to open a portal, we need to know where to, and how to safely deactivate the machine.
Raph felt a pang in his chest. Observe. Wait. Stand still. That was what he did best, wasn't it? Standing still while his mind slowly disintegrated.
Raph felt the familiar tightening in his chest. But of course, Leo led. Leo was the one who could decide what to do. He was just the muscle, the rabid dog the others unleashed when they needed someone to fight.
— And isn't that what you are? — a voice asked in his head. — A rabid dog that bites the hand that feeds it?
Raph clenched his fists, feeling his nails dig into his palms. The pain was small, insignificant, but it helped anchor him to the present.
— Raph? — Mikey's voice was soft. — You okay? — His brother had noticed the frustration on his red bandana'd brother's face.
Raph forced a smile—his "everything's fine" smile, perfected over the years. Not too wide, not too tight. — I'm great, Mikey. Just thinking about how we're going to destroy their plans.
Mikey laughed, but there was a hesitation in his eyes that Raph chose to ignore.
— You can't see. — Raph thought. — You can't know. Because if you did, you'd look at me the way you look when you think I'm not watching. With pity. With fear. Like I'm an animal that needs to be put down.
The building was exactly what Raph expected dark, damp, full of corridors that smelled of mildew and dried blood. The team moved in silence, their feet touching the floor with the lightness of those who had spent years training in the shadows.
Stockman was on the upper floor, in an old hall that had once served for Foot Clan rituals. The center of the room was occupied by a massive machine a kind of arch made of metal and cables, with a pulsing core that glowed in shades of blue.
— He's almost finished. — Donnie whispered, his eyes fixed on the scanner on his wrist. — If we don't stop him now, he's going to activate the portal.
— Then let's stop him. — Raph said, already moving forward.
— Raph, wait! — Leo grabbed his arm. Raph felt the touch, and for a moment, his body froze. Leo's hand was right where one of his most recent wounds was. It wasn't a hard grip, but it was enough for Raph to feel a sharp pang that almost made him gasp.
Leo seemed to notice something, because he let go almost immediately, his eyes fixed on the spot he'd touched. — You okay?
— I'm fine. — Raph lied, pulling away. — Just a little sore from training. Let's go.
He didn't wait for a response. He leaped into the center of the room, his sais already drawn. — Stockman! It's been a while. You'd better shut that thing down before I shut it down by force!
Stockman turned around. — Ah, the turtles. Always so predictable. But you're too late!
— Dream on! — Mikey shouted, launching himself forward with his nunchaku.
What followed was glorious chaos. Mikey attacked Stockman with a ferocity he rarely showed, forcing the scientist to retreat. Donnie began trying to deactivate the machine, his eyes scanning the circuits with a speed only he could manage. Leo coordinated everyone's attacks, his sword gleaming in the dim light.
Raph was in the middle of it all, his anger always present, always burning—fueling his blows. Every punch was a release. Every hit that landed was a small relief from the pressure he felt in his chest.
Stockman fell to the ground, defeated, but the machine was beginning to pulse. — It's useless! — he shouted. — You can't stop it! The portal is going to open!
— Donnie, shut that thing down! — Leo ordered.
— I'm trying! — Donnie replied, his fingers flying over a control panel. — The programming is too complex!
That's when Mikey saw the lever. It was on the opposite side of the machine, with a label that read "TEMPORAL INVERSION." Mikey, with his typical impulsiveness, ran over and pulled it.
— No! — Donnie shouted. — You don't know what that does!
The machine began to vibrate violently. The central core blazed with blinding light, and the entire building shook as if hit by an earthquake.
— The lever inverted the flow. — Donnie muttered, his face pale. — Instead of pulling something from the past into the present, the machine is going to push us into the future!
— What?! — Leo tried to move toward the machine, but the light was too intense.
Raph felt an invisible force grab him, pulling him toward the center of the room. He tried to resist, but the energy was too powerful. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brothers being pulled too.
Raph woke up with a headache that felt like an elephant tap-dancing on his skull. He opened his eyes slowly, his vision still blurry.
The ceiling was different. It wasn't the familiar ceiling of the sewers pipes and damp stains. It was a clean, white ceiling with embedded lights that glowed with an artificial softness.
He sat up quickly, his body tense, his hands already in a fighting stance. Where was he?
— Don't worry, you're safe.
The voice was familiar, yet strangely different. Raph turned and saw a figure that made him freeze.
It was a man, clearly a mutant, with a green shell, blue eyes, and a smile he'd known since childhood.
Mikey. But not his Mikey. This Mikey was older, decades older. He had wrinkles around his eyes and an air of exhaustion that his Mikey had never shown.
— Mikey...? — Raph's voice came out hoarse, disbelieving.
The older Mikey smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. — Donnie was right you showed up. You came. — He paused, and something in his expression broke, as if he were seeing a ghost. — Raph... is it really you?
Before Raph could answer, other figures entered the room. Leo, older, with eyes that seemed to have seen too much. Donnie, with a distant look.
Raph's heart tightened.
The older Mikey lowered his gaze. — The machine brought you four here.
— You're us? We're really in the future? — the younger Leo asked, who had just woken up, his voice filled with alarm.
— Yes. It seems you're going to be here for a while. — the older Donnie replied, his voice metallic and worn. — But we're working on a way to send you back.
Raph looked out the window. What he saw took his breath away. The city glowed with neon lights, skyscrapers so tall they seemed to touch the sky, and mutants of all shapes and sizes walked the streets as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Mutants were accepted, where they didn't have to hide.
But even as he admired the view, something in the older Mikey's gaze unsettled him. Something he couldn't identify.
— What's wrong? Raph thought. — Why is he looking at me like he's seen a ghost?
The answer would come soon. Sooner than he'd like.
As the four brothers recovered from the shock of the journey, the older Mikey began to speak animatedly.
— Humans accept us now. — He said, pointing out the window. — Well, not everyone, of course. There's still a lot of prejudice. But we don't live in the sewers anymore. We have our own house, above ground. We can walk the streets without hiding.
— It sounds like a dream. — the younger Leo murmured, his eyes still fixed on the urban landscape.
— It is. — the older Leo agreed, his voice tinged with bitterness. — But all dreams eventually become nightmares if you look at them closely enough.
The younger Mikey frowned. — What do you mean by that?
The older Leo opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a sound from the hallway. Hurried footsteps. And then a voice that Raph recognized immediately.
Casey.
— Yo, everyone okay? Heard we had visitors… — Casey entered the room and stopped abruptly. His eyes, older and more tired than Raph remembered, fixed on him. And something broke in the human's face.
— Raph… — Casey's voice trembled. — But… but you…
The silence that followed was deafening.
Raph looked at his older brothers, searching for an explanation. Why did Casey look like he'd seen a ghost? Why did the older Mikey look away? Why did the older Donnie suddenly become intensely interested in the floor?
The older Leo was the only one who held his gaze. And his eyes, red and tired, told a story his words refused to speak.