256Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own them. . . yet.
A/N: Hello! and welcome to my first ever TMNT fanfic. I've been working of this for awhile and finally decided to post it. A few things you should know: I suck at first chapters, I rewrote this about four times and am still not completely satisfied with it (course, I could be a little overly critical. You decide!); I love reviews-reviews of any kind-but especially those that tell me how I can improve; Updates will depend solely on you, that's right, you (point). I'm not asking for much, just a small piece of your mind-sound fair? Good. Cause, if ya don't, I'll be forced to wait at least two whole weeks before I update again. . . well, that's what I promised myself I'd wait.
Lastly, I began writing this fan fic as another method of improving my professional writing, so in essence, this is a novel built of exercises. Thusly, I posted my exercise goals-which you can give me a pass or fail on if you so desire.
Good fun, no?
Okay, enough of my rambling. Here is Chapter One: Protector of Thy City.
Word count: 5994
Exercise Goal: Set the mood and emotionally connect the readers with the Focal Character.
Chapter one
Protector Of Thy City
Date: February 3; Time: 12:58 am
The icy February wind whipped pins and needles over my mask-less face, numbing my unused adrenaline spike. It was too cold to sit still, but I was anyways. Watching a shadowy figure pace across the blanketed rooftop with my hands in my pockets. My fingers were numb, which made me wonder how my little friend—being coat-less and reptilian—wasn't frozen yet.
He was the one who always liked winter, I guess. Never actually said it, but if being either dragged out of my home or called in the middle of the night every night was any indicator... I'd say it's a pretty good guess.
The city of New York was, for once, silent. No cries for help. No laughter. No drunken slurs. Not a single damn person wandering the streets. All safely confined in their homes or huddled around fire with others who had nowhere to go—kinda like how I should be.
To say the least, it bugged me. I had nothing to do, no one to protect, no scumbags to bust. What a waste of a night... Think it bugged my friend more. I was more than ready to head home. Knowing him, he wouldn't go home until he had to.
He paced towards me, eyes not looking up from the snow scuffing under his feet.
"Slow night, huh Raph?"
Bloodshot, golden eyes snapped up; hands flinched to his belt.
I stiffened, sliding off the edge cautiously. Jeez, jumpy ninja.
"Oh," he relaxed, looking to the dimly lit street below—an usual hot spot for crime. But apparently a little bit of bad weather deterred the cockroaches of society enough to send them back into the crap holes they crawled out of.
"Yeah, Case, slow night." he muttered, walking to the edge of the building with all the grace of a prowling tiger and peering down into the alley below. Raphael's red mask caught in the wind as he leaned forward.
There was a club a few blocks down with music so loud we could usually hear it on the rooftops. It made beating the crap out of scumbags all the more fun. Another reason this was a great stop on patrols. It's silent now. The owner must have shut down for the night.
"Damn slow night." he repeated. "Ain't a single freakin'..." he trailed off, hefting himself onto the ledge and, once again, pacing. "What's wrong with the criminal element nowadays, Case? Ya see a little bit of snow and suddenly it's like they're an endangered specie or somethin'... nev'a around when ya need `em."
I smirked at his analogy. " `s too bad they ain't." —on both accounts, Raph looked like he needed to take his anger out on someone.
Wispy white clouds materialized as he chuckled low. He'd been pretty quiet the last couple of weeks, preferring to just get on the streets and smack some heads than have our usual 'conversational' rounds. This was the first time he talked all night, besides when he pounded on my window and invited me to "grab yer bag and come on." Made me wonder what his problem was tonight.
Like I couldn't guess.
"So, ya wanna talk about it, or just keep pacin' `til ya fall off the roof?"
His obsessive movement halted, one foot dangerously hovering in empty air. Golden eyes darted my way, clouded and angry. He grunted. "Screw talkin'." he turned and continued his track. "And screw Leo, too. Freakin' arrogant, self-righteous pain in my shell—" his voice dropped to a mummer; head shaking.
I could understand his sentiments towards his older brother. The guy could rub anyone the wrong way—but any of the turtles could, if you were around them long enough. Last time I paid a trip to the lair I was greeted with Red and Blue going at it like mortal enemies. Fists and words, none too kind. The two had some major problems...
I shifted my hockey bag, closing the short distance between us in heavy footed strides. I released a gusty sigh, "Look Raph, I know ya aren't a 'heart ta heart' kinda guy, but maybe ya should try talkin' to Leo."
He scoffed. "Not gonna happen."
"I'm just sayin', Raph, if it was my brother, I'd find a way to work it out."
"Casey?" Raph stopped a few feet from me. His head tilted down to stare into the alley.
"Uh, yeah?"
"Do me a favor and shut up."
I usually wasn't inclined to listen to anybody's orders, but there was something about how Raphael said it, that made my mouth snap shut with an audible clank that rattled my teeth.
We stood there in silence. Raphael refusing to look at me, his head grasped firmly in one hand. For a moment, I thought that the red-masked ninja was having a breakdown, then I realized how stupid and unlikely that was.
Is it really?
"Uh, hey, I uh—I'm sorry, Raph. What goes on between you and yer bros is none of my business." he didn't respond. "Um, right. I just, ya know, don't like to see you guys fight." still, nothing. I shifted my feet awkwardly. "Raph?"
His shell was starting to ridicule me. A wall of obstinacy, worn with years of blocking blows and deflecting words. Kinda like now.
I tried again. With every word I sputtered out came absolute silence. Deepening; thickening. I could feel it swallowing the roof, noosing my neck and making it harder to form simple words. Foolishness sunk its fangs in me, its poison coursing through my veins, spreading. Spreading until I felt like a little boy again, talking aloud to myself in a dark room, under a dusty bed, on an empty street, in the cold rain. Talking until I realized how pointless the action was; it didn't help anything.
My voice fell flat, the last spoken words hitting the ground like lead weights; completely worthless and just waiting to be tripped over.
Only then, when I finally quit struggling for Raph's attention, did I realize he was teetering. Swaying back and forth. His fingers quivering in taut fists by his sides; anger spilling from one in heavy wet drops. Drops that stained the snow crimson.
He pitched forwards—
"Raph!"
—and my hand struck out with no thought. I caught his arm and jerked back. He stumbled from the edge, colliding into my chest with a surprised grunt. As soon as he caught his balance he ripped away. Staggering even then.
"What the hell, Case? Ya tryin' to kill me?"
"Me? You're the one tryin' to take a nosedive off the roof!" the blue fabric of my coat scraped at my skin.
"What the hell are ya..." he looked behind himself, back at me. "Nosedive?" he asked, suddenly quiet.
"Yes a nosedive!" I yelled. "Dammit Raph, you suicidal or somethin'?"
For half a beat he looked to the snowy floor, utterly mute. Then he laughed. Humorless and slightly wounded. Still, the sound made me want to punch him. "Nah Case, nothin' like that. Was jus thinkin'." another short chuckle.
"It ain't funny."
"Never said it was." his eyes refocused behind me, distant.
Suddenly I understood Leo's frustration. Even if whatever the whole fight was about had never been told to me, I understood how Raph could be making his brother so mad.
Raph and his bros were like the little brothers I never had. So when one of them looked as if they were about to keel over, I not only took notice, I took the necessary actions. Raph wasn't one for coddling over-protectiveness—though, hypocritically, he was the most over-protective guy I knew—so the only other approach I knew of, was roughness.
One he was sure to appreciate.
Reaching forwards, I grabbed both his shoulders and gave my green friend a solid shake. That snapped both his attention and his anger back into place.
With a growl, he shoved me away.
"Yo, ya payin' attention now?"
"You're really startin' to piss me off—"
"Good."
"Good? Case, ya ev'a see me when I'm ticked? It ain't pretty."
I shrugged, indifferent. He just gritted his teeth.
"We should call it a night." I said as lofty as I could, his anger didn't diminish.
"Back off, Casey. You can go home wheneva ya want, I ain't."
"Whoa, I'm not tellin' ya to go home, man. Might make a good suggestion, but..." he narrowed his eyes at me, arms crossed and jaw set. I huffed out my own exasperation. "Look, it's freezin' out here, I can't feel my own toes and you're a turtle. Cold blooded, or whateva. "
"Yer point?"
"My point is it can't be too good for ya to be out here. We should head back to my place and crash there fer the night. Ya look like you could use the sleep."
"How's April?" Raph tactfully changed the subject.
"April?" I hesitated. "She's fine. As moody as any pregnant woman I've ever known. Why?" He quirked an eye ridge at me, a mocking smirk gave a dark light to his steady gaze. And what he was getting at smacked me in the face. "Oh..."
"Yeah, 'oh'. I already hafta deal with one mother hen all freakin' day. So, no offense to April, but tiptoein' around an expectin' one doesn't sound like too much fun." he rubbed his jaw sorely, "Chick hits hard."
I laughed, remembering the last time April and Raph had ran into each other. I had made a little too much noise on the fire escape of our apartment, Raph had been ahead of me and opened the window. Apparently April heard the noise and thought it must have been a burglar, since ninjas are so quiet and I had snuck out to bust some heads with Raph after April had fallen asleep on the couch. In my opinion, the turtle got it easy. He escaped after April had apologized for hitting him, then yelled at him, then apologized, then turned to yell at me.
Fun night.
"Figured out what yer gonna name it yet?" Raph snapped me from my reminiscing. His gaze was set off to the sky; the smoggy clouds weren't much to look at, but I joined him all the same.
"Nah, but April been goin' crazy with the namin' books. I think we have, like, fifty of `em." I slid a palm down my face, breaking away from the panorama. "Man, I still can't believe I'm gonna be a—a—a—well," I swallowed. "Ya know."
"A dad?" Raph offered, stealing a seat on the ledge. "Jeez, Case, yer gettin' cold feet already? It's like your weddin' all over again."
"It's a kid, Raph! A little, mushy baby that's gonna cry and poop and grow up to be a rebellious teen, like-like-like you!"—a ghost of a smirk flinted over his face—"Oh, I'm doomed. I—I'm not sure I can handle—"
"You'll do fine." he interrupted gruffly. "Splinter did alright, and he had four of us to deal with. . . and he didn't have nine months to read up on raising brats."
"Yeah, but Splinter is, well, Splinter."
"And?" he flicked snow off the ledge, eyes locked on me from under his dark mask.
"And I'm Casey Jones, a major screw up who ain't wise and ain't the smartest guy in the world, ya know?"
Raph sighed. Sinking down lower on his seat, he rubbed his neck. "Look Case, ya might make a few more mistakes than other people. . . okay, a lot more mistakes. But you're a good guy. Helped me and my bros out more than a few times." he shrugged. "Guess I'm tryin' to say you pull through when it matters the most." A wicked grin spread across his face, "Plus, ya have April. She'll more than make up for the lack of smarts on your part."
"Jeez, backhand much?"
"It's what I'm famous fer."
For a moment the howling wind was the only sound, drowning out even the dull mutter that was always present in New York.
"It would probably help if ya knew what 'it' was, ya know, when you're lookin' fer a name and all." Raph's tone was pointed, his question ringing in my ears even in its unspoken form.
"Hey, we don't know yet. If we did, you'd be the first one I'd tell, though."
He snorted, "Don't go gettin' all sentimental on me."
"Oh, so ya don't wanna hear what's April lettin' me decide?" A little bit of cheering up was exactly what my bud needed, so what better time to tell then right now?
"And what's that?" He asked, inspecting his palm with extreme indifference.
"Boy or girl," I said, a gleam in my eye. "The middle name's gonna be Raphael."
In a flash of red and green, he looked at me, stunned to say the least. A nervous laugh. "Don't do that, Case. It's a nice thought and all, but let's face it, the name sucks. Bad enough I hafta deal with it, and I live in the sewers. Just think of the poor kid walkin' on the streets with other humans." he shuddered humorously.
"What's wrong with the name? I like it." I hadn't expected him to be excited about it, but come on. It's incredible to think what a little enthusiasm could do.
"Well that makes one of us." he rose from the snowy ledge, uncoiling like an alerted snake. "Don't get me wrong, Case." he clapped a hand on my shoulder a bit too heavily. "I'm honored. Shell, Splinter will probably be thrilled I made such a. . . uh, great impression on somebody. Just, don't do anythin' yer kid will live to regret."
His voice hitched on the last word, an ever so slight change that plunged from gruffness to reflection. As if he deeply regretted something himself. Gut instinct told me it had to do with whatever him and his brother was fighting about.
A shrill ring came from my pocket. I fumbled for my phone, it was April.
When I looked up an emerald green hand waved me off. "Go home, Casey."
"Ya sure yer okay?"
He looked at me incredulously, "Don't need a babysitt'a. Now go home." his bandanna tail caught in the wind when he turned and stretched, working blood back into stiff limbs. "I'll be fine." and with that, he leaped.
Another piercing ring jerked my attention away from my disappearing friend and back to the device in hand.
Somehow, Raphael's words didn't convince me.
~*~ Time: 1:23 am ~*~
The wind slapped me as I ran. An icy palm wrapping my body in its unforgiving grip, wintry fingers scratching at my walls. The onslaught intensified the faster I moved, shivers racking my 5 ft 2in frame.
I was an idiot for not grabbing a coat when I stormed out of the Lair over three hours ago. At the time, the thought of cold air was too tantalizing to pass up; and honestly I was too ticked to process the need of layers.
On the bright side, the cold helped clear my head. Course, it had nothing on going toe to toe with street punks who rightly deserved all the anger I could throw, but it was better than being locked up at home.
Home? More like a war zone...
I scoffed, miffed by the thought. Or maybe the lair would be better than patrolling these empty streets, at least than I'd having my punching bag.
Or Leo's face...
I shoved the thought away, silently cursing myself and my temper. Did Leonardo merit a few good punches? Sure. Was I in any position to lob them? No. I was more to blame than old fearless could ever be.
I slid to a stop, panting lightly as chilled sweat trickled down my body. I pivoted on my heels, eyeing the way I'd come with a sadistic grin. Already on the other side of the city, far from home and far from my brothers. Unintentionally I growled, took a seat on a ledge and, for the second time that night, stared down into an empty alley.
My brothers.
Whether this mess was my fault or not, they were only making things worse.
My brothers didn't understand. None of them. They all just thought of me as the hothead who loved to start fights. As Raphael, the sarcastic, mean, quick to argue pessimist. I was the brother who always got them into trouble, always rushed into battles, always disobeyed orders. The one that's always too careless to 'think about the consequences'.
Or, in a word my eldest brother liked to use, reckless.
But it was so much more than that. There was so much they didn't understand. Didn't see. Could never know about.
Because I wouldn't let them.
Regardless, my brothers weren't helping things. Especially my eldest brother, Leonardo. Everything had to be a fight with him. Patrols were mangled into a freaking standoff between us, usual ending when Mike or Don suggested we split up into teams of two. Family meals were defaced with us glaring daggers at each other, just because one of us moved wrong in the other's eyes. A few time I'd been pretty close to throwing the table aside to wipe that look off his face.
Sparring was contorted, all too often, into something closely resembling a death match. Shell, simple training sessions, even with Splinter in the room, were turned into screaming brawls. The last one was his fault entirely, if he didn't feel the overwhelming need to put his two cents into everything I did, we wouldn't have had a problem.
Unless I managed to do something right, that is. Ohhh no, that was met with utter silence from the oh-so-perfect Leader.
Not that I cared anymore, it was nothing new to have my oldest brother look at me with that disappointed, 'you aren't good enough', 'I'm better than you' face that just made me want to knock his head in, just so I didn't have to see that.
I stood, legs once again numbed, and began to pace. The more I thought about my brothers, about the fight Leo and I had just had, about the growing tension, the angrier I got. My fists clenched at my sides, aching to hit something just to release the pressure building inside. And that brick wall was well within reach.
I struck out. Stone cracking beneath my bare knuckles in a sickly satisfying way. I huffed, watching my breath condensate while I shook the needles out of my hand.
Leo's disapproving sigh ringed in the back of my mind, the insulting mutter of hothead following in its wake.
Not that the title didn't fit me...
My shoulders sagged with a weary weight, hand coming up to rub the sudden sting from my eyes none-to-gently. Man I was tired of this. Tired of the looks, of the fights, of all the freaking criticism. Of always messing up...
So tired in fact, that lately even the simple task of waking up, of moving was a challenge. Training was getting increasingly difficult. Twice in the past week alone Splinter had offered me reprieves midway through training sessions—probably thought I was sick, or just didn't want to deal with me and Leo fighting again. Either way, I turned the offers down, tone a bit sharper than I had meant—though Splinter hadn't reprimanded me for it.
Donnie, our family's residential 'doctor', had also noticed my extreme lack of energy and diminished focus enough to pull me aside before training one day with a myriad of questions. I had brushed him off with a snide remark and nonchalant shrug. Donatello was not a stubborn turtle, perhaps the least stubborn of us all, actually. He was also the most leveled headed, slowest to anger and second overall laid back of the group. But when it came to health, he was fierce and unforgiving.
Just not fierce enough to outlast my bullheadedness. He finally backed off.
I wasn't sick. I just wasn't sleeping—something Casey obviously caught onto earlier.
I've always been somewhat of an insomniac. As a kid I would drive Splinter nuts, constantly sneaking out of bed to roam the tight quarters of our first lair. His ears were too good to miss the padded footsteps, and I wasn't exactly a master in stealth at the time.
Now, in my teenage years I spent my nights topside. In fact, I was topside more often than I was in bed—something I did every winter to take advantage of the longer nights. Course, the conflict between Leonardo and I was another motive for staying out longer and sleeping less.
But honestly, there was more to it than just insomnia...
I guess, there just didn't seem to be a point to life anymore.
Self doubt was nothing new to me, the cynic. Nor was self-hate. Early on in my unconventional life I discovered what screwing up implied. Topside it was being spotted or ambushed; In training, sparring or battles it meant injuries. With my temper it meant hurting one of my own brothers...
You can't control yourself. You endanger them. . .
The thoughts were hell born torture, bringing with them a fear I would never admit.
You aren't good enough...
Vivid nightmares of my brothers falling in combat, dying because I wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough.
They'd be better off without you...
Suicide had entered my mind at one time—I'd never admit it aloud—but was flung away with hot anger and disbelief, the whispered taunts of cowardice filling its place. Tonight I had no idea what happened. Nearly falling off a roof?
They deserve better than you...
That much I knew was true without a shadow of a doubt. Long ago I allowed the idea to take permanent residence within my brain, not once bothering to evict it.
They hate you...
Luckily, shoving things away was something I'd mastered at a very young age. With a strangled sigh, I buried it again, swallowed the feral scream I wanted so badly to release and curled my mouth into its usual scowl.
I directed my torn attention back to the streets below, "Shesh, if a little bit of snow 's all it takes..." I started, before movement caught my eyes, cutting me short. "Huh, spoke too soon."
I watched with mounting excitement and fluid disgust as three shadows approached a little store, unscrewed the sole light bulb, then took shelter behind a large dumpster. Minutes later the back door to the store opened, keys jangling in the night air as the owner locked up.
Casey shouldn't have turned in early, he missed all the fun. Ah well, more for me.
I narrowed my eyes, the alley was pitch-black, hard to tell who the soon to be victim was. The scent of heavy perfume hit me, followed by dauntless humming.
Okay, this lady's just askin' fer trouble.
I readied myself to pounce, body limber yet tense with anticipation. The young woman was passing the dumpster. The first thug jumped and so did I. I landed silently behind the trio, bathed in shadows that my victims supplied. Ironic.
The scumbags wouldn't touch her, but if she's stupid enough to walk into a pitch-black alley; at two in the morning; alone; in freaking New York City... then she needed a healthy dose of fear to bring her into reality.
The humming stopped, replaced by a startled gasp and heels clanking backwards on concrete.
"That was an awfully nice tune ya was hummin' there, girly." the nearest man cooed, advancing on the girl with clear intentions, "Ya takin' requests?" His buddies joined him now, all three snickering as they backed the trembling woman further into the alley.
She opened her mouth, attempting to yell for help, but all that came out was an airless squeak. Briefly I wondered how it felt to be paralyzed by fear. I've never known the feeling.
"Ah, she's a shy one, Butch." the fattest one chuckled.
"P—pl—please," she managed, luminous eyes wide with horror.
This elicited another round of laughter from the three burly men.
"What's that, girly?" the leader, Butch walked closer to her, leaving the other two a few feet back.
That should be enough.
I made my move, slamming the two goons' heads together with a reticent thud. They slumped unconsciously to the ground. I sprang forwards, grabbing the final, oblivious punk's wrist and yanking him away from the girl before his approaching fingers could make contact.
"What the—"
"Don't ya punks ever learn?" I growled, twisting the wrist until it snapped. I sent the thug stumbling into a wall, gasping in pain. "Ya think it's fun to attack a helpless little girl? Think ya can get away with it!"
These goons picked the wrong night.
The man faltered for half a second, "Look, I don' know who ya are, man, but no one messes with the Purple Dragons and lives." he hissed, his good hand pulling a pipe from his belt, "Billy, Floyd, let's teach this fool a lesson!"
I chuckled, "Yer pals are takin' a little nap."
The gangster cussed, eyes darting to the barely visible figures slumped on the ground.
The girl sobbed candidly in the murky corner, I tilted my head slightly at the cacophony, "Now, I don't appreciate punks like you terrorizin' innocent girls."
Without warning, Butch rushed me, taking a messy swing for my head. I dodged easily, delivering a knee to the man's back a moment later. "Son of a—"
Jerking the man up, I shoved him in to the wall, pinning him off the ground with his own filthy shirt. "Ya really want me ta break yer jaw, too?"
"Screw you! This city belongs to the Purple Dragons. You're on our turf, freak. You're a dead man."
I laughed, tightening my fist expectantly, "Wrong again, this city's mine, and I'm sick of filth like you pollutin' it."
Butch spat in my face.
My anger boiled and I jerked him an inch higher, "Big mistake."
In the few minutes that followed, I laid a dozen punches into the thug's gut and face. The man was begging now, cussing every few words and trying to escape, but I wasn't done. With all the anger that pulsed though my veins coiling behind one tightly fisted hand, I allowed my fist to fly, unrestrained and collide squarely with the punk's nose.
A sickening crack echoed off the alley's walls, Butch collapsed in a heap.
Man that felt good...
I kicked the unconscious man once more for good measure before blowing out a constricted breath and turning to the girl. She was cowering in a corner, her purse held in front of her face like a bemused shield.
I cleared my throat, forcing my voice into a friendly tone, "Are ya al`ight, miss?" I winced when she backed further away.
"P—pl—pl—please, d—don't hu—hurt me." she pleaded, voice crocking.
"I ain't gonna hurt ya." I knelt in front of her, grateful for the heavy shadows cloaking my inhuman features.
Her trembling hands lowered the handbag, she glanced behind me, examining my handiwork.
"You're safe now." I insured her, looking her over the best I could in the dark—even though no one had laid a hand on her. She was young, maybe twenty, luminous blue eyes and light hair twisted into a bun.
She nodded slowly, pushing herself up until she was standing, "Thank you, f—for saving me."
That was rare...
"You're welcome." I said gruffly, standing up. A beat of silence, I cleared my throat again, "Ya should call the cops."
The girl nodded quickly, fumbling with her purse and finally fishing out a cell phone. I backed up, ready to leave. "Wait!" she called, forcing a pause. "You—you aren't going to leave me here! Alone! With them!" she jabbed a trembling finger blindly at her attackers.
And here we go...
"You'll be fine, they'll be out fer awhile."
"But—but—but—"
"Look, call the cops and wait inside until they come," I gestured to the building, "You'll be fine."
Fully expecting a panicked argument, I was surprised when the girl bit her lip and nodded obediently, moving toward the door on shaky legs, phone pressed to her ear.
I positioned myself to leap to the waiting fire escape, taking pause long enough to offer obvious advice, "Oh, and ya really should consider locking up earlier, New York's a dangerous place." with that I disappeared to the roofs above.
Well, at least the night wasn't a total waste.
~*~ Time: 3:02 am ~*~ POV: Raphael
It was three in the morning when I took the final bend in the sewers and entered my home. I channeled every ounce of stealth I possessed and focused on reaching the nearest bathroom without being caught. All I wanted was a hot shower and my warm bed. Yet I knew from experience that was too much to hope for.
"Where have you been?"
I straightened, turning to my older brother with an annoyed sigh, "Not in the mood, Fearless."
Leonardo crossed his arms over his chest, staring at his me with that arrogant, disappointed look. His lecture pose. "You're never in the mood, Raph."
Oh fer the love of. . .
I crossed the room in long strides, stopping barely a yard from where my brother stood in the living room. I knew very well that getting so close to Leo was a bad idea when we were fighting, venomous words often escalated to physical blows between us. But I was fully finished with these constant arguments; and irked by Leo staying up until three in the morning, just so he could ambush me with a lecture, again. Every freakin' time.
Leonardo tensed at my approach, sliding a foot back imperceptibly before catching himself and squaring his shoulders to match my slightly taller frame.
Amusing.
Cool steel and blazing amber orbs met, glaring, willing the other to turn away through shear animistic intimidation.
"What the hell is yer problem, Leo?" I seethed, voice low enough not to wake the others, yet loud enough to shatter the blissful silence.
"My problem?" his voice was stoic, stressing only enough to make his point, "I'm not the one out playing vigilante every night." he raised an eye ridge, "Or the one trying to catch another case of pneumonia." Leo gaze narrowed, looking me over with a critical eye, as if something was off.
My posture was still rigid from adrenaline, maybe more so than usual. It might have been from the cold still slithering through my veins, but... "What's wrong with you?" the question was pointed, the tone wavering between concern and suspicion.
I just laughed, the sound bitter in the stiff air. "None of yer freakin' business, Fearless."
He bristled, "As leader your safety is my responsibility, Raph, so whether you like it or not, it is my business." his voice held an edge as cutting as his katana blade, a tone that usual reigned during these ever infamous verbal quarrels.
And drove needles under my skin. He damn well knew that, too.
I scoffed, casting a wayward glance toward my increasingly desired room, before pulling my sharp glare back to Leonardo's expecting face. My fingers tensed like a coiled snake; ready to strike.
Leo's eyes were alert, watching me carefully, experience clearly warning him of the gesture. "You aren't turning this into another argument, Raphael."
I was thinkin' combat...
"Thought it already was." I snarled, "Or is this just another freakin' lecture I've heard a thousand times before?"
"Get off it, Raph." Leo soughed, placing his forest green hands on his hips in clear exasperation, I crossed my own arms in response. "I'm only trying to do what's best for you, for this family—"
"And I'm not?" I interrupted through clenched teeth, anger flaring.
"No!" he snapped, massaging his temples with palpable frustration, "Shell, Raph, why can't you just grow up. Not everything is an attack on you, I am not your enemy. . . . . . ."
I glared at my brother with biting contempt. I really didn't want to get in another fight with Leo, but the self-righteous bastard was pushing it. If this fight did come to blows and woke the others up, Splinter would have a shell of a long lecture in store—which Leo would, of course, get out of. And sitting through that at three in the morning while Sensei wore that chagrined look was not something on my wish list
Better to just walk away...
Still, I was never one to walk away from a fight; or give any ground in an argument; or let Leo, of all people, think for even half a second he'd won a dissension.
I glanced toward my room again, could make a bolt for it... or maybe for the bathroom. A shower would be nice—
". . . . . . .Are you even listening to me?"
My attention snapped back to my brother in blue, who had his arms extended tightly around his chest, a half questioning, half annoyed grimace encasing his features.
Man, I've gotta quit zoning out like this. I'm turnin' into Mikey.
I forced a smug grin, shrugging with all the sympathy of a cornered tabby cat, "Don't care ta." I answered. Yeah, that sounded like me, completely nonchalant.
Drove my brother nuts.
Leo inhaled sharply, jaw working to swallow angry words better left unsaid. "See, that's what I'm talking about. You never listen to me. You always have to make things harder than they have to be; fight me on every order. It's like you hate—" he checked himself, "— hate me being the leader."
I sneered at him, seriously reconsidering ripping him a new one, lecture or no lecture.
He rushed on, "Maybe if you weren't so stubborn you could realize that I might actually know what I'm talking about."
"Oh yea, 'cause the all powerful Leonardo is always right, huh?" I jeered, "We couldn't survive without yer superior shell to guide us through our problems."
"That's not—quit putting words in my mouth." Leo fumbled—apparently he needed some sleep too. "All I'm saying is if you would just stop and list—"
"Screw this, I'm goin' to bed." Broad shoulders bumped as I fled to my bedroom with little haste.
"Raphael!" Leo hissed behind me. Clearly he was frustrated.
Like I gave a damn.
"We aren't done here."
"Go ta bed, Fearless." I called over my shoulder, climbing the stairs to the second story.
I could feel the leader's eyes boring into my shell, until I finally arrived to the quiet safety of my small, familiar room.
With a gusty sigh, I flung my exhausted body into the well worn hammock that passed as my bed and allowed my heavy lids to close. I felt safe in the swaying cloth, warm despite the chill that still clawed at my frayed nerves. Sleep had never sounded so good or so welcoming to me.
However, I would get no sleep tonight.
A/N: Hmmmmm... what do ya think? Anyone seem too OOC? I mean, Raphael, of course, but it's for good reason-I swear! Also, how did you like the dialogue of Casey and Raph, too much of an accent on them? You know how to tell me-review!
Thanks for reading! ^_^
(P.S. I promise Chapter two is way better.)