Disclaimer: Don't own the turtles, yadah.. yadah..yadah...

A/N: Yeah, last few weeks have been hell. My 9 year old rabbit got a tumour so we had to operate her. Man, I love that silly hairball more than anything, and I was a complete wreck. A few days later our magpie died... we took it in when it was just a hurt little baby, and we took care of it for 3 and a half years. Then, all of the sudden the bird just decides to die! So anyway... that's why I wrote this. Please read and review before you leave.


I ALWAYS KNEW I'D GO DOWN FIGHTING

by

Mickis

Genre: Tragedy/Angst

Language: English

Censor: PG13

Summary: It begins like any other fight, but the bitter outcome ends like none before it. One of the turtles finds himself dying in the trembling arms of his brother, realizing he's always known about this night.


I hurl myself at the punk with a rage I've never known before. My sai plunge into his chest and pierce whatever organ residing there. He gasps in shock when meeting my eyes, and release his one last breath before his lifeless head tips forward. I roughly withdraw my weapon from his slumped body and watch with pleasure as it hits the ground. Then - a mere second later - as the adrenaline pumping through my veins dissipates, my own legs give in from underneath me, and I fall hard on my shell.

"Raph?" Michelangelo rise to his feet, seemingly confused about suddenly being knocked over, and search the dark alley for me, only when he discovers me on the concrete his eyes transform into complete horror. "Oh my God!"

I almost feel guilty about being the reason for it.

If I didn't already know how bad it was from the immense pain throbbing my body numb, the fear in his eyes definitely told me the horrified truth. He stumbles over to where I lie collapsed and sink to his knees, dropping his chucks at his sides and hesitantly reaches for my wounded plastron.

"Oh my God.." he repeats, his eyes taking in the pool of blood before him. "Don!" Mike looks up and search the alley for Donatello, not remembering we split up just before we got attacked. "Donnie!" This time his cry is more frantic. However, the realization seems to down on him, and he turns back to me, unsure on what to do, but aware he's the only one around to do anything. He press his hands to the bleeding hole in my abdomen, and as I suck in a pained breath at his touch he looks up at me; fear and confusion plastered on his features.

"What should I do?"

I turn my gaze upwards, as if asking the stars for help. I wish I knew what to tell him. Wish I knew what to say to make it better and erase the fear in his eyes. Unfortunately I don't know how to turn back time, and even if I could... I wouldn't change anything.

I lower my eyes to his worried face. "Juz..." I pause to breathe, realizing it's getting harder to. "...Juz hold 'em there."

Tears well up in his eyes, knowing there isn't anything either of us can do. No matter how hard he press his hands to my stomach it won't change anything. It won't prevent the inevitable.

"Why'd ya do that?" he asks, his hoarse voice filled with the weight of his tears.

"I...I don't know.." I breathe. I take a second to look at him, my little brother, understanding I had no choice in what I did. "I had ta..."

"C'mon," he sniffles. "Don't be stupid."

I grab onto his hand with my right hand, pressing my palm against his bloody knuckles. "..I'm not."

His tear stricken face freeze at my words, as if only now understanding why I did what I did, and I feel him pushing his hands harder to my stomach.

"Mikey..."

"No!" he interrupts, his voice holding a determination I've never heard in him before. "I'm not letting ya go." The look in his eyes tells me not to object, and I stay quiet, although the unspoken truth still lingers around the two of us.

I'm going to die tonight.

"You're so stupid, Raph," he tells me, staring at the blood covering both my plastron and his hands.

I weakly grin in response, fighting harder for air that won't come. I never knew getting shot would hurt this much, or be this cold for that matter. Are you really supposed to be freezing this bad?

Mike looks up at me, tears streaming down his face when meeting my eyes, and we share a quiet moment, silently telling each other how much we love the other. However, the moment is abruptly interrupted by my sudden need to cough. I feel my burning lungs objecting in my chest and my entire body cramps, fighting for a chance to breathe.

Mikey quickly moves one of his hands to behind my neck and supports me, his other hand still tightly pressed to the bullet wound. He holds me closer, willing for strength to save us both. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't take the pain away.

Once the attack is over I relax in his arms, taking in a needed breath of air, when suddenly I taste iron in my mouth.

Blood.

The bullet must've messed me up pretty bad inside. There's a lot of blood in my mouth.

I turn my gaze back to Mike's widened eyes, red from tears. He saw it, too.

"We hafta get ya home," he murmurs, attempting to lift me up. A sudden chill runs through my body, numbing my arms and legs with a fierce rush of cold.

"Don't," I firmly tell him, my rugged breath the only thing audible as I lock my eyes with his. I watch him struggle with himself for a few seconds, tears falling from his eyes, before he puts me back down again, pushing both his hands to the open wound.

Another wave of coughs rock my body, draining me on my strength. I soon get control over myself again and focus my eyes on Michelangelo.

"...Thanks.." I tell him, breathing heavily.

He tells me something in return, but the echo of his voice dissolves in the dimness of my mind. I tiredly squeeze my eyes, attempting to read his lips, but the harder I try the darker it gets. The darkness hungrily envelops the entire alley, working its way from the corners to the centre of my vision, swallowing Mikey along with the rest of the world. The only thing accompanying me in the dark is my brother's foggy voice, growing fainter with each syllable.

I attempt to call for him but no matter how hard I try I can't seem to find my voice.

I can't even find the strength to breathe.

Damn.. I'm so cold.


I forced my foot into the guy's stomach, causing him to fall hard on his back. His gasped breath drowned in the heavy noise of garbage and cans as his body landed among them. I instantly turned my attention to the third and final guy, hidden underneath the safety of his black hood.

Stupid punks! First they robbed some arcade hall, and then attack a pair of mutant turtles when they're busted! Maybe if they went to school once in a while they wouldn't be so damn stupid.

The idiot approached me with a small knife in his grip, his worn out boots scraping against the asphalt beneath him.

I tightened the hold on my sais before I thrust myself at him, kicking him in his right shoulder, causing him to lose the knife. The sound of the blade hitting the ground was like sweet music to my ears, and I couldn't hold back a grin as I placed another kick to his right, just above his waist.

He fell to the ground where he doubled over in pain, grabbing onto his broken ribs and moaning deeply.

I turned around to see how Mikey did with his thug. He had the kid beaten to the ground, his body veiled in the shadows of the fire-escape above him.

That's what you get for messing with us.

As Mike studied his fallen enemy, the sound of an empty can rolling across the pavement caught my attention, and I turned my focus to the pile of garbage where the first guy had collapsed. I found myself beyond shock as I spotted a gun in his raised hand, pointing it to the unaware back of my brother.

"Mikey!"

I threw myself at Michelangelo and used the weight of my body to push him aside. Mikey fell safely to the ground, just as the screaming sound of the bullet pierced the air. An unbearable force ripped through my abdomen and I couldn't stop myself from sucking in a breath of pain.

I always knew I'd go down fighting.