I'm not sure why I wrote this…

Warning: Dark, depressing.

I don't own TMNT.

The Guardian Phantom

It was a fight on the rooftop at first but now the rooftops were their home, not their battlefield. The Nightwatcher stared out over the city as he sat on the edge of the rooftop. It was calm, serene and peaceful, despite the sound of emergency vehicles in the distance. Looks like it would another full night of work for him and his 'partner', if he showed up. The Ghost of the Jungle followed his own code, his own routine but it lay in the darkness. Sometimes he came, sometimes he didn't. The swish of a cloak had the Nightwatcher getting to his feet and turning towards the sound. An approaching figure, completely covered by a dark brown cloak, froze and seemed to float in the middle of an alley although the Nightwatcher figured that he was probably standing on lines or on the very edge of the building. They said no words but after a long minute, the Ghost of the Jungle approached the metal clad vigilante. They both turned and ducked behind a shed on top of the building and threw the disguises off before reentering the night.

Raph took a deep breath of the night air and turned a curious eye on his brother. The other turtle looked back at him and turned his head away when his brother raised a hand to place on his shoulder. He didn't react and Raph frowned as his hand fell back to his side.

"I get it, you still can't forgive me," Raph mumbled.

His brother said nothing, just stared out over the city as police sirens rang out in the distance.

Raph took another deep breath, "I was there earlier, it's real nice. Ya did a great job."

The other turtle just shuffled his feet, his green skin reflecting surrounding lights.

"They'd be proud," Raph said, "I know I am."

Finally, his brother turned to him, his eyes searching Raph's for an answer neither of them knew.

"How's our little brother?" the red masked turtle asked, his amber eyes staring into orbs that held the same chocolate color he remembered but none of the life he used to know.

The other turtle flicked his eyes upward. This meant yes, ok, or good.

"Ya know? People are saying we're heroes now."

Raph's brother said nothing.

"It wasn't your fault, why don't you blame me like the others?"

The turtle set a hand over his heart before glancing at Raph.

"Look, I know we're brothers but the others-"

Raph was cut off as a green hand was slapped over his mouth. Annoyed, he pushed it away.

The noise of sirens in the distance made them look up the street where they sensed gunfire.

"Time to go to work," Raph said as he got to his feet and offered a hand to his brother, "Ya know? There's a big debate going around now. People are arguing about who's the hero and who's the side-kick."

Although there was no smile on the surface, Raph sensed the easing of tension beneath the surface, and knew his brother was smiling in his mind.

"Let's go," Raph said, ducking into the shadows and returning to his previous guise as the Nightwatcher.

When he emerged again, the Ghost of the Jungle had vanished.

The Nightwatcher shook his head, he was always ahead of him, but of course, not for long.

The Ghost of the Jungle glanced down at the murdered victim.

"Nothing can be done for this one," he thought sadly, although it wouldn't show on his face if it wasn't veiled by the cloak he wore.

Emotions, like the gangs of New York City, were his enemy. Humans in general became his enemy. Few were even the slightest bit kind any longer.

The sound of a motor made him glance up as the Nightwatcher rode into the alley. The silver plated motorcycle stopped a few inches in front of him. The Nightwatcher held out his hand.

"Things have quieted down, up for going to see them?"

The Ghost of the Jungle hesitated, standing stock still and gazing up at the night sky and then along the rooftops he was accustomed to traveling by. After a long silence the Ghost turned and took the metal clad vigilante's hand. It was a rapid five minutes later that they stopped in an old, trashed covered alley. They lifted a hidden manhole and slipped down into the sewers they once called home.

"How's life outside the city?" the Nightwatcher asked.

The Ghost of the Jungle glanced at his brother and opened his mouth before closing it and then rolling his eyes.

"Quieter and open," the steel vigilante interpreted as they walked silently down large and small sewer pipes. Finally they came to an area thick with sorrow. A long rectangular stone stood, half buried in the soil and concrete. Against it was a walking stick. They both held their breaths as their father's presence washed over them. They sighed and the Nightwatcher pulled off his helmet, kneeling at the grave and running his gloved fingertips down the carved name.









"We miss you," Raph whispered.

After a few seconds of breathing deeply, Raph turned to the other two graves. One bared no stone for it's owner, only the twin weapons and mask that his deceased brother used. The red masked turtle stood up and removed his Nightwatcher uniform.

"Make sure it's burned," he whispered to the Ghost standing behind him.

The Ghost made no comment, verbally, or physically. Forcing himself from the ignorant bliss of the silence, Raph turned to his brother's grave. He reached up and lightly touched the mask. If he tried hard enough, he could recall the color of the eyes and the determination they held for life, the light and soul they held. Now, only darkness stared back. Then, he turned to the third grave, it lay open, waiting. Then, Raph felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up and saw the dull eyes weeping, the chocolate hues releasing tears.

The Ghost of the Jungle reached inside his cloak and handed his brother an envelope. He held out his three fingered hand, balled it into a fist and held it out again.

Nine Minutes.

The ghost's eyes shifted downwards and held his hand out before lowering it down.

Little pain.

"Thanks," Raph said, taking the envelope.

The Ghost turned and ran down a sewer pipe. Ignoring as a scream echoed behind him. He'd be back in 15 minutes to clean it all up. He and the Nightwatcher had come here many times, and had had this all planned for a long time but tonight, he could barely believe Raph was going through with it.

Of course the Ghost of the Jungle knew long ago that his brother had died already. He heard the distant voice.


"You died a long time ago Raphael. You died with him," the Ghost murmured as he remember the mask and twin ninja weapons on the second grave.

15 minutes later he retraced his steps and did as he said. He cleaned everything up and burned the metal suit of the Nightwatcher. Burying his brother, might have tugged at his fragile heart, but emotion barriers long built kept it all inside. As he scanned the area again he found a small slip of paper.

Don't worry bro. He won't turn out like me. He'll remember to take care of his big brother, like I should've all those years ago.

The Ghost of the Jungle pulled back his hood as he got to the last line.

Take care of him for me. Tell him I love him and I'll tell them you love them. Good luck Donny.

Crumbling up the paper and tossing it in the fire with the melting suit, Donatello turned and pulled up his hood, giving a silent goodbye, to his father and older brothers.

An hour later, the purple masked turtle removed his cloak, becoming his old turtle self. He wasn't sure why he took up his eldest brother's vigilante saccade but now, with no Nightwatcher, the city became his responsibility. He glanced up as he rode his older brother's old motorcycle out into the nearest woodland that he and his remaining brother called home. He quickly ascended a tree and lipped inside a small hole in a rock wall that lead into a large, dark cave. There was a small light inside that revealed his little brother, bent over the comic books that he still loved despite not being so young any longer. The light came from a flashlight and reflected off the younger turtle's orange mask. He glanced up as his older brother walked inside and threw the cloak onto a large stone.

"How's Raph?" he asked quietly.

"He's with sensei and Leo now," Don replied.

Mikey frowned, for he didn't like it but then smiled, "So he's finally happy."

It wasn't a question. They both knew their older brother wasn't complete without their eldest brother. Those two had been the closest of them all. They had played together, fought together, fought with each other, helped each other when no one else would, encouraged each other and, maybe unknowingly, died for one another.

"Come over here Donny," Mikey said, his blue eyes wide and happy.

The purple masked turtle joined his younger brother where he was sitting against the wall of the hidden cave, wrapping the orange masked turtle in a hug. The younger turtle hugged back with no hesitation.

"Raph told me to tell you, that he loves you," Don mumbled.

Mikey nodded, "I love him too, but I think he already knows."

Don nodded back, "He told me to take care of you, little brother."

"Good, I'll take of you too," Mikey said with a smile.

They sat there, until the tears came, and they surrendered their brother to the heavens above.

Later that evening, a cloaked Donatello hopped across the rooftops of the city he protected. He heard a familiar door ring and he stopped at the edge of a rooftop. A woman glanced up from her antique shop.

"April," Don thought.

She smiled at him. Ah, ignorance was bliss. The cloaked figure turned and appeared to fly across the building and into the darkness. He stopped before the next building and jumped down onto a windowsill.

New York City is my home. I fight to protect my city. I'm but a ghost in the shadows…

A Guardian Phantom.

Wow, I have no idea where this came from but this is the 07 movie-verse. I hold no contract with them, therefore, I can kill them all I want.


Hey, I just realized that this is my 49th story here. Which means I'm going to have to prepare something special for my 50th. Be on the look out for it!