Chapter 4

He ignored the pain that exploded in his bones every time he crashed his fist into the man's bleeding face; disfiguring it. His hand ached more with every punch, and the blood covering his knuckles didn't just belong to the stranger below him, but most of it being his own. Still, that pain was nothing compared to the rage that burned within him. Rage that never subsided, no matter how many goons he would beat up under the stars.

Only when a voice startled him did he stop.

He froze with his fist in mid-air, staring down upon the barely breathing man he was leaning over. His broken nose was bleeding badly and both his eyes were swollen shut. The turtle lowered his clenched fist down to his side and turned to look towards the source of the sound; discovering the silhouette of a man standing at the entry of the alley.

"Hey!" the intruder yelled, peering into the darkness. "I'm talking to you!"

Raphael quickly rose from the still body and climbed the nearest fire escape, always sticking to the shadows, like his master had taught him. However, Splinter hadn't taught him to abuse simple teenagers, just for snatching someone's purse, and shame washed over him for dishonouring his father's memory. He hadn't trained them in the art of ninjutsu just so they could beat up criminals whenever they felt like it. Raphael gritted his teeth as he grabbed onto the edge of the rooftop and pulled himself up, suppressing the traces of remorse that whispered within him. He didn't need anyone judging him.

He leaped building after building, with only his shadow following him, desperately running away from his father's disappointment. But as the adrenaline from the fight started to wear off, the pain in his fist came throbbing back, forcing him back to reality. Raphael halted at the edge of a rooftop, his breath laboured and his body quivering. He looked down at the ground beneath him - eleven stories down - and witnessed a police car racing by with the speed of light, the sirens wailing through the chilly October night.

He stood there for a while, anywhere between a second and a minute, listening to the sound of the drowning siren, till the only thing left was his own breathless pant. The image of the thug's bloody face flashed before him, and every time Raph tried to block it out of his mind, it was replaced with his sensei's disapproving look.

He had failed him.

He had failed them all. He was lost within himself, and he knew why. He knew what had lured him into the darkness of his mind. He knew who had done this to him.

Raph held his breath as he turned his eyes to the lonely sky above him, only a few stars looking back.

"This is all yer fault!" he cried, his emotional voice echoing in the silent night, with no one responding to it.

He tiredly glared at the few stars that were still visible and panted in frustration. Up until this day, six long years later, he still didn't know what had happened to his brother. He still didn't know who to hold responsible. And no matter how he twisted and turned the situation, it all came back to the same person - Donatello.

He didn't want to hate him. He had tried so hard not to. But when beating up endless number of punks didn't get rid of his anger, he started to run out on people to blame.

Raphael lowered his eyes from the sky when no answer came to his desperate accusation, and he noticed that a large number of the windows in the building across from him were lit. The morning was sneaking upon him again, and people were preparing themselves for a new day.

It was his cue to leave.

Raph scanned the street below him for any possible witnesses before climbing down the fire escape. When both his feet stood solid on the asphalt he started looking for a manhole cover to slip down. He hoped none of his brothers were awake, so he could go to bed without having to answer any questions about where he had been or what he had done. But, knowing his brothers, Leo was probably up early to refine his fighting technique, waiting for him to get home so he could lecture him about everything and anything he did wrong.

Raphael slid aside the manhole cover and dropped down into the blackness with a wet splash. After putting back the cover in its rightful place and enveloping himself in complete darkness, his heavy feet began their long walk home.

He wasn't in the mood to argue with his brother. Not today.

The lair was dark and quiet. Michelangelo was back to his old self, no longer hiding out in his room, but positioned on the couch instead, his face lit up from the poor light of the television. The volume was barely audible, to make sure Donatello didn't wake up. He was sleeping in his room for the first time in six years. Mike wanted to be there when he woke up, hence the reason why he hadn't gone to bed. Don had slept since the news about Splinter's demise, and Mikey understood his need to mourn their father, and wanted to be there to support his brother when he was ready.

Leonardo sat in the kitchen, staring down at his cup of tea, thoughts taking him elsewhere. But he wasn't thinking about Don anymore. Instead he recalled a painful memory that always replayed itself in front of him whenever he was reminded. He tried to block it out, not wanting to confront the pain that came with it. But no matter what he did he couldn't keep his mind from sending him back to that tragic night in his master's room.

It had nearly been five years, yet every single detail was as tangible as the porcelain cup in his hands. Every word spoken that night was still crystal clear to his ears.

Painfully clear.

He wasn't going to make it through the night.

After a couple of minutes the coughing eased and his father relaxed in his arms, his wheezing breath searching for air that wouldn't co-operate. Leo swallowed the lump in his throat as he felt the paw in his hand grab him tighter.

"It's okay, sensei," Leo comforted, his mouth buried in the sweaty hair on top of his father's head. "I'm here."

"Leonardo.." the rat spoke, his voice hoarse.

"I'm here," the pupil repeated and held his father closer, as if to convince him.

Splinter concentrated on breathing for a few seconds, his chest sinking deeper with each exhale, before having gathered enough power to speak. "Fetch your brothers," he said, breathing heavily.

Leonardo felt someone squeezing his heart; strangling it, for he knew the grave meaning of his teacher's frail words.

"Yes, master," he replied, carefully resting the rat against the pillows and putting back the covers properly. He then walked towards the door of the sub-car, giving his sick father one last glance, as if fearing it would be the last, before turning and leaving to look for his siblings.

He found Michelangelo sleeping on the couch, his head buried in the pit of his arms, and punching sounds from Raphael's room told him his other brother was using the old punching bag to get rid of some anger he had bottled up in the past few days, as Splinter's condition had gotten worse. Leo turned back to the couch, leaning over the back and gently nudging his sleeping brother on the shoulder.

"Mikey," he said, trying to sound strong for his sibling. "Wake up. He wants to see us."

The turtle lifted his heavy head from the safety of his arms, his eyes fluttering with confusion. "Wha..?" he murmured, looking around the room before meeting Leonardo's eyes, instantly detecting the sorrow in them. "Is it..?" Michelangelo trailed off, afraid to finish his sentence.

The blue masked turtle only nodded in sympathy, his eyes saying more than words ever could. He saw tears form in Mike's eyes, and the exhausted turtle quickly rose from the couch. Leo turned around and hurried to his other brother's room, carefully knocking on the wall and peeking through the open door.

"Raph," he said, watching the frustrated turtle freeze in his movements and frantically turn to look at him. He saw a bitter realization take form within his brother's eyes, and he didn't have a chance to say anything else, as Raphael pushed himself past him and headed off to their mentor's room.

When Leonardo entered the room his other brothers were already at Splinter's side, opposite from each other. Mikey knelt before the bed, caressing the sick rat on his fuzzy forehead, staring at his father's closed eyes; pleadingly waiting for them to open, and Raphael had taken a seat in the chair Leo used earlier, holding onto Splinter's left paw, his motionless eyes glued to their master's anguished features.

"Sensei?" Mike said carefully, tears racking his whispering voice.

Leo walked up to stand beside Michelangelo, noticing the tears that trickled down his face before turning to their dying father, who tiredly fought for air. He felt the lump in his throat burn fiercer, and he noticed Raphael staring at him from across the bed. The two of them shared a silent understanding before both of them turned their attention back to Splinter.

"My sons..?" the rat questioned, his runny eyes opening and searching the dark room for his students.

"We're here, master," Leo said, kneeling and taking his father's right hand in both of his.

Splinter feverishly looked at his children before worry surfaced in his eyes. "Donatello-" he coughed. "Where is...Donatello?"

The remaining brothers shared a painful silence at the mention of their missing sibling, but it was Raphael who opened his mouth to speak.

"He's gone," he carefully informed. "Rememba'?"

Splinter rested his eyes on his red banded son, his memory breaking through the fever and grasping the truth. A moment of silence passed, and all three turtles gazed concerned at their father. Finally, the rat opened his mouth to speak, but before he had a chance to utter a single word, another cough attack gripped his weak body, emptying it from the little energy that still resided within him. He tightened his hands on Leonardo and Raphael, who fearfully exchanged a glance with each other before tuning back to their ill master, and Michelangelo reached behind his back to support him, tears falling from his eyes as he did.

Splinter's weak voice rattled in the silence of their home, and it was the most dreadful sound Leonardo had ever heard. His father's pain reached into his chest and pierced his very heart, torturing him. Leo felt a tear escape the corner of his eye, and the hot trail trickled down his face, stopping at the corner of his mouth and leaving him with a bitter aftertaste.

As the coughing subsided and the old rat once again fought for his breath, Mikey leaned him back against the pillows, his tears falling freely when looking at his sick father. His dying father. He attentively tucked him in and rested his hand on his shaggy chest when he was done.

Splinter slowly turned his head to Leonardo, tiredly holding his eyes with his own. "Remember what I have...what I taught you.." he said, barely reaching up to a whisper.

Leo nodded at his father and caressed his paw with his thumb. "Of course," he answered. He knew this was it. He could see it in Splinter's eyes. But his father seemed to have accepted it, and so should they. If they could only find the strength.. "We'll never forget." Another tear slid down his face.

Splinter smiled weakly, his heavy breathing wheezing in his throat. He then turned his eyes to Michelangelo, who's sobs echoed in the gloomy room. "And remember..how deeply..I love you...my sons..." he said, his tired eyes fighting to stay open.

Michelangelo nodded in silence, his tears having robbed him of his voice.

Splinter slowly turned to look at his third son on his left side, his chest barely rising with his breath. "All of you," he said, weakly squeezing Raphael's hand.

Raph returned the squeeze, adding his left hand to the grip, while silent tears fell from his paralyzed eyes.

The old rat nodded slightly, and then closed his eyes in agony, gripping his sons' hands with the last of his strength. Leonardo held his breath as he watched his master; his black eyes slowly opening to stare at the ceiling above them. Suddenly, his father's paw went limp in his hands, and as it did, he felt his insides freeze up. The sound of his own pulse drummed so violent in his head that his mind ultimately became numb from it.

"Sensei?" Mikey asked, stroking his father with the hand that rested on his chest. He held his breath, as if waiting for the rat to answer him, but none came, and Michelangelo started sobbing harder, hugging his father's lifeless body.

Leonardo stared at his sensei's frozen eyes, and only death stared back at him, even as they were facing the ceiling. He held the slender hand tighter, more tears raining down his face, and felt parts of his heart withering inside of him. Only when he heard Raphael sob did he break away from Splinter's eyes. His brother looked at their demised father with grief in his eyes, and Leonardo could literally see them transform from sorrow to anger, hiding the love that burned within him.

Without another word spoken, Raph rose from the chair and left the room, leaving his brothers alone in the darkness to mourn their fallen father, and headed topside.

Leo caught his own reflection as he stared into his cup, and noticed the painful expression his eyes held. He silently sniffled and reached up to his face with his right hand, wiping away the small group of tears that lingered there. After taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he grabbed the handle of his cup and took a sip, realizing the tea had gotten cold. He gently put the cup back down to the table when another sound caught his attention. The sound of feet climbing down the exit ladder.

Raphael was home.

The red masked turtle hurriedly stomped through the lair, passing Michelangelo behind the couch, ignoring everything and everyone on the way to his room.

"Raph!" Mike cheerfully exclaimed, turning his head around to look at his brother.

Raph noticed the change in his sibling's voice, nonetheless he still held his stare straight ahead and continued walking. "Back off," he hissed.

"Raph.." Mikey said, ignoring his brother's bad mood and supporting his arms on the back of the couch. "He's back." He watched his bigger brother freeze in his steps, as if a bullet had ripped through him, and noticed his fists clenching at his sides. Then, there was only silence.

"Whad'ya say?" Raphael finally spoke, after repeating his little brother's words in his mind a thousand times, only to hear the same sentence over and over again.

He's back.

"He came back," Michelangelo silently confirmed, afraid of how his sibling would react.

Raph fiercely turned around and read Mike's face, just to make sure he was telling the truth. He instantly realized he was, when he found himself looking into the eyes of the old Michelangelo, the person that died the night Donatello disappeared.

"He's in his room," Mikey explained, before he was practically run down by the other turtle.

Raph immediately hurried off to Don's room, all sense and reason blocked out from his mind. He just had to see it with his own eyes.

"He's really tired," Mikey jumped up from the couch and called out to his brother, doing his very best to keep up with him.

Raph, on the other hand, heard nothing of what his brother said, and couldn't care less - for he was about the enter the room he hadn't visited in two years. He forcefully slid the sub-car doors open and froze in the doorway when he spotted his brother asleep in his bed, his cover drawn up to his chin. A dark shadow rested over his face, so he couldn't see him that well, still he was positive it was Donatello, and it shocked him to the core. He couldn't do anything but stand there and stare, as if his mind had lost all control of his body, and it bothered him. Because there was nothing he wanted more than to yell at his brother for all the pain he had put them through.

Mike stopped behind Raphael and peeked over his shoulder, finding Donnie still asleep in his bed. He then focused his attention on Raph, who hadn't moved in several seconds. "Raph?" he carefully asked. "He really needs his sleep.. Believe me, I wanna talk to him too, but-"

Mikey was cut off as Raphael suddenly turned around and pushed himself past him, heading off to his own sub-car, where he locked himself in. Mike just stood there, staring at Raph's closed door, and then looked to his sleeping brother, trying to figure out what happened.

"Did he wake him?"

Michelangelo turned around to face Leonardo standing in the kitchen doorway, half his face veiled in the shadows.

"Nah, he just... I don't know, he just looked at him and left." Mikey scratched his elbow in confusion.

Leo nodded in understanding, his eyes travelling from Mike's gaze down to the floor. He didn't know how Raphael would react to Donatello's return, and it bothered him. Because he could easily picture Mike's expression when he found their brother, and even imagine a few words he might've said, but when it came to Raph... he just couldn't see it.

When had they grown so far apart from each other? Or more importantly; how could he have let them?