Chapter Text
“I don’t believe I ever explained why I was never present throughout your childhood, and ignorant in your adolescence. I would like to apologize for that.”
“Pops, hey, we get it—”
“No. I owe you all an explanation. It is a parent’s duty to look after their children, to act certain ways within reason, to explain my actions in a way you will understand.”
Splinter and his four children sat in a circle with their father facing them. He sat with a cup of tea and a regretful look on his face. His children were nervous but intrigued.
Their father heaved a sigh, ears lowering before setting his cup on the floor next to him. “The mutation, as you know, was…difficult for me to come to terms with. I had lost everything that I had worked so hard for. My credibility, my fame, the money—my comfortable life was suddenly ripped away from me. Even if I had made it out of the Battle Nexus, I may have been able to go back to my old life.”
The four listened to their father. This was a story they had never heard before.
“Living in the sewers, struggling for food, watching over you four—it was a lot to adjust to. I guess at some point, when Red was old enough, I allowed myself to fade into the background. Sleeping in became not leaving the room, not cooking became not talking…I didn’t realize I had fallen into a severe depression until you began going to the surface. Until I realized that I know longer knew you all, that you had begun to rely on the eldest instead of me.”
They understood but stayed silent.
“But I could never regret taking you all in and trying to raise you. You, my children, gave me something to live for.” Splinter bowed to them, showing his respect and sorrow for his children. “I thank you. I hope you can forgive me.”
He straightened and stood, walking towards Raphael, and cupping his face.
“Especially you, Red, my eldest,” his eyes were pleading. “I know what I have done is unforgiveable. But perhaps, over time, you will forgive me.”
Raphael felt like he was suffocating.
*---------------------*
Raph awoke with a sharp inhale, eyes flying open to see his darkened room. He was curled on his side, arms clutching several plushies with blankets strewn on and around him. A faint strip of light seeped through the crack in his door. He could hear clanking of pans and conversation coming from the kitchen.
Ah. So it’s morning, then.
He stretched and rubbed is eyes, a yawn cracking his jaw. Why’s everyone up at the same time?
His anxiety spiked at the thought of a mission that he might have forgotten about. Or was it a special day? A holiday? A quick glance at his calendar revealed nothing of the sort. Maybe it wasn’t Mikey making breakfast then, was it dad? Did he get them up for a family meal? If so, why wasn’t he included?
His heart squeezed with hurt. It shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did—he was used to it—but even so, he thought he was finally making progress with Splinter. Sure, they may not talk as freely as his siblings do to their father, but he no longer actively avoids him, and even sits close to him during movie nights.
So why? Why did not being called for breakfast hurt? (Because you’re not worth it. You take up space. He doesn’t want you. Your siblings are happy now.)
‘Let’s slow down, then, eh? Deep breaths. They probably let you sleep in and will get you soon.’
Breathing. He could breathe. He muttered a quick thank you to Mind Raph before taking several deep breaths in and out. His thoughts calmed, but the crushing feeling of hurt still lingered. He did his best to squash it, not wanting to focus on what it meant before a soft knock interrupted his meditation.
“Raph?” Mikey’s soft voice was muffled by his door. Relief swept over him, the hurt slowly disappearing. A smile tugged at his mouth.
“Come in, Mimi.”
His door was slowly opened, the light illuminating his seated position on his blankets. Mikey’s face was hesitant as he pushed open the door, but as soon as he saw Raph awake, he immediately brightened and bounded into the room. Mikey grabbed Raph’s hands and began tugging him to stand up, expression giddy.
Raphael raised an amused brow in return but complied and stood up. “What’s got you so excited this morning? Is Donnie awake before noon?” He joked, knowing his sibling was the household night owl, right next to Leo.
Mikey continued to walk backwards out of the room, not releasing his hold on Raph’s hands. “They are, actually! AND is even awake enough for a conversation.”
“Must be the beginning of a good day, then.” Raph was pleased to hear that Donnie had gotten enough sleep where they’re cognizant enough to know what’s going on.
The youngest nodded enthusiastically, smile proud and young and bright for a 16-year-old. “Totally! We’ve got a whole day planned for you!” Mikey let go of one arm and turned around, still marching him towards the kitchen. “Even Leo managed a few hours of sleep for today.”
So today WAS a special day? What had he forgotten this time? “Um…I’m a little lost. What’s today again?”
His youngest brother stopped and turned to him in shock. Raphael looked back at him in confusion and slight hesitation, not knowing if this was somehow his fault. Mikey’s expression softened, eyes shining with something he couldn’t identify.
“Of course you’d forget today, Raphie,” he said in fondness and continued walking. “But don’t worry! We’re going to make sure today is extra awesome then. Starting with an epic breakfast made by dad himself!”
Mikey ended with a flourish, arms pointing in a dramatic fashion towards the entrance to the kitchen. Raph huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes as he entered the kitchen, the statement about his father barely registering before stopping at the site of the kitchen.
Oh. His breath hitched as emotions tangled and crashed.
He had forgotten his 21st birthday.
There, in front of him, were balloons of all various colors with multicolored strings, a big 21 balloon tied to his chair at the table and streamers taped to the ceiling. A massive homemade sign read “Happy Birthday Raph!” with notes written by his siblings that he was too far away to read. He walked forward to pull down one of the balloons by its string and a watery laugh left him: they had little Princess Peach stickers on them. Knowing his family, the entire lair was decorated like this.
His dad was standing on a step stool in front of the stove. From the looks of it, he was making a massive stack of pancakes. Splinter turns and looks at him, a soft smile and a twinkle in his eyes as he stares at his eldest. His father extends an arm, beckoning Raph forward. Pure bliss fills Raphael as he steps forward and is pulled into a warm and furry hug. Spirits, it’s been ages since he’s gotten a hug from his father. He buries his face into Splinter’s shoulder, enjoying the hand rubbing his shell.
“Happy birthday, my son,” his dad murmured with fondness before letting him go. Splinter held Raph by his shoulders (avoiding the spikes), eyes tracing over his features with an expression he couldn’t name. Pride, maybe? It made him slightly nervous.
Raph placed a scarred hand over his father’s, convincing himself that he felt overwhelming appreciation and affection for this gesture. “Thanks Pops,” his voice cracked. “Thank you.”
Splinter smiles and pats his arm. “We were not sure which type of pancakes are your favorite, so we’ve settled on multiple types so you can choose. The rest will definitely be eaten. Now,” Splinter turned back to the stove and flipped a few pancakes, “the others are waiting for you in the living room. So, shoo!” He waves the spatula towards the door, “I will see you back here when these are ready.”
Raphael chuckled as he left the kitchen, but he still felt…off. There was the momentary feeling of elation when his father hugged him, the warmth still lingering on his plastron, but overall, he felt…nothing when he saw his father making him breakfast. He should have felt love, appreciation maybe, fondness; he should have felt relaxed, something, but he’s just…
Tired. I’m tired.
As much as he has tried to fight it, to try and convince himself that it wasn’t true, that he was just in some sort of slump for the past year, he was tired. Raph stopped right before the living room, leaning against the graffitied wall and covering his eyes with one hand and released a shaky breath. Exhaustion crowded his head into static, fatigue pulling his limbs down so fiercely that he almost sat down. He felt like he needed to cry, something to release the growing pressure in his chest, to clear the numbness he’s grown used to, but he couldn’t. He can’t. Today is supposed to be a happy day. His siblings put so much effort into this day for him that he would never forgive himself if he ruined it.
Raphael could do this. It’s just one day. His siblings were happy for him and so excited to celebrate his day. He should be excited, too.
He should be happy.
Raph heard his sibling’s eager whispering coming from the next room, their shuffling alluding to more decorations and gifts. Muffled laughter lifted his mood slightly—the knowledge that he was the only one not enjoying the day made him feel equal parts guilty and relieved.
He could do this.
‘You can do this, hon.’
Raphael took a deep breath, removing his hand from his face before walking into the living room.
“SURPRISE!!”
Small confetti cannons, poppers, and party horns made him jump, but a smile overcame his shock when he saw the state of the room and his sibling’s expressions. Leo and Mikey were throwing handfuls of confetti at each other, giggling as the confetti covered them, acting younger than they were. Donnie stood off to the side, twirling a party horn in their hand and a mischievous smile growing as they eyed the confetti cannons.
Their eldest brother’s deep laugh stopped their shenanigans. It had been a while since they heard him laugh so freely; Raph’s laugh was always warm and deep, crackling like a fire, a way to know that everything would be alright.
Raphael, however, didn’t know why he was laughing.
He couldn’t help it. His sight became blurry, the vision in his bad eye completely fading out as tears fell, but he was still laughing. Raph’s siblings ran to him, panicked, asking a million questions ranging from if they scared him, is he having a flashback, did he not like the confetti, etc. He shook his head, wiping his tears.
“Thank you, guys. I love it,” and it was sincere. They didn’t need to do all of this for him, but they did.
Their faces brightened, talking to him a mile a minute about everything they have planned, who decorated what, whose ideas were planned out. Overwhelming affection bubbled over for them that he couldn’t help but reach his arms out for a hug. He bent down, still chuckling, as they squeezed him in tight hug, whispering happy birthdays to him. If they felt his arms shaking, they didn’t comment on it.
…
He wanted to sleep.
“…He wasn’t happy at the party, was he.” It wasn’t a question. They all knew the answer.
The three youngest were gathered in Leo’s room, talking over the events of Raph’s birthday. They had hoped a small party with just their closest circle, gifts, games, and music would break their brother out of his head. They wanted to see Raphael happy again, with the twinkle in his eyes and gentle gaze.
It didn’t work.
They hated seeing his tired eyes, constant frown, and slumped form. He was sleeping more, dissociating, eating less.
They didn’t know what to do and it made them restless. How did Raph manage to take care of them, and they couldn’t even do the same for him?
Mikey glanced at his older siblings, noting their defeated frowns and tense posture. “Do you think it’s because of Splinter?”
That got their attention. Donnie and Leo, the two 18-year-olds, launched themselves at Mikey and nearly knocked him over.
“What did he do this time—”
Donnie was murderous. “He’d better not be going back to his old ways. I’ll actually fucking kill him this time—”
“Mikey, you’d better explain right now, or we are marching right over to Raph’s room.”
“Okay!” he held up his hands as a surrender. “Calm down guys, geez. And back up, you’re crowding me.” He shooed them backwards and they sheepishly sat back down.
“He hasn’t been the same since Splinter sat us down to explain everything to us. I don’t know if Raph feels pressured to forgive him, or if he even realizes he has that burden, but I don’t think Splinter realizes what he’s done by pleading for forgiveness,” Mikey explained.
It made sense. Raphael was not good at identifying his emotions or understanding why he felt certain things, just that he felt them. Subconsciously having the pressure of having to forgive your father who made your childhood not only miserable, but so terrifying that he had to form alters? It would weigh on anybody.
They knew Raph was trying to figure out who he was as a person, and he was getting better! He knew what he liked, disliked, preferences, hobbies—but emotions were a whole different ballpark.
And Splinter was, once again, getting in the way of his healing. But they can’t fault him for that. They knew it wasn’t intentional, but expecting forgiveness is different from leaving that path open if that day comes.
Mikey watches, fiddling with Leo’s blanket. Donnie’s brows furrow, jaw tightening as they think back to that conversation. Leo begins to pace the length of his room.
The air is tense yet muddled with sorrow.
“Alright gang,” Leo stopped pacing and clapped his hands together. “I say we take a page out of Raph’s book and make him proud.”
Mikey and Donnie stared at him in silence. Leo sighed dramatically. “We sit Raph and dad down for a conversation like he did for us ages ago.”
Donnie considers it. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? They barely talk nowadays.”
“It’s better than watching Raph slowly drift away from us. I’d rather—”
I’d rather have him than Splinter. The words weren’t spoken but they still rang true.
They all looked at each other, apprehension clear, but they had no other choice.
Mikey spoke up. “It’ll have to be planned. We can’t just leave them in the same room together, but we can’t tell them we want to plan a meeting, either.”
“He has a point,” Donnie agrees. “According to logic, we have to be very, very careful about how we approach this. Things could get messy quickly.”
Mikey waggles his fingers in Donnie’s direction. “Have you been reading up on psychology, Don?” he teases.
Said sibling turns to stare at him with an unimpressed gaze. “That is none of your business, Michael.”
“Awwww, Don-ton’s finally learning about emotions!” Leo leans his elbows on Donnie’s shoulders, giving them a shit-eating grin. Donnie, in turn, leans forward so fast Leo tumbles face first into the sheets.
Leo gasps in mock offense, laying a fruity hand over his heart. “Betrayal! I cannot believe ya’ll are being so homophobic right now—”
It takes another 4 hours for them to come up with a plan.
Raphael was not present for the conversation with Splinter about his DID. He was supposed to be—he and his siblings had planned out the conversation for days, telling Splinter that they just needed to have one more conversation with him about one of Raph’s main issues—but their eldest had a massive panic attack the day of. His siblings had never seen him fall apart so severely—
Full body shakes that looked painful, pacing, the mumbling, alternating between crying so hard he couldn’t breathe and a terrifying stillness
--and were almost too shocked to help him. It wasn’t until Raph had started to hurt himself that they intervened.
Gwen ended up fronting. They had only met her a few times in very specific circumstances, but she was cool in an ‘older sister that lets you illegally drive at 3am but will stab someone if they breathe on you wrong’ kind of way. She was pleased to see them and updated them on Raph’s condition but decided to confront Splinter herself. Red would back her up if needed.
“I’m not sure if I ever told you, but because of Splinter and a few other occasions, he does have trauma surrounding older men. That’s where I come in. Red is more of a general protector for triggers, and Savage only appears when he is alone and scared,” she had explained to them as they went to find their father.
It made sense as to why they never see her too often.
“But…why did Red confront Splinter instead of you the first time around?”
Gwen thought for a moment. “It was because Raphael was overwhelmed by the situation, and he was more worried about you three than himself. His anxiety for your wellbeing overshadowed his fear of his father. However, because he would have to talk about himself directly to Splinter, all of his fears and past memories bombarded him, launching him into a panic attack.”
Unfortunately, that also made sense.
“Can we still stay and support you? We were going to do that for Raph to keep him calm,” Mikey asked.
Gwen stopped and considered it before nodding once. “Feel free to add anything you may want about Raphael. But we as his alters take priority in the conversation. Yes?”
They understood. Discuss Raph’s DID first, then anything else they may want to add. Simple.
*---------------------*
Not simple. But also, not as difficult as it could have been. They’ve learned to be patient with the way their father will deny and deflect the things his kids tell him. Just a little bit of perseverance and a hold on their tempers will go a long way.
And it did.
Gwen was phenomenal, almost clinical, in the way she explained the disorder, how it develops, and how many of them were a part of the system. She did not flinch when Splinter denied he treated Raphael that poorly, when he said he didn’t believe that she was a whole different person, always calling her Red even when she explained that Red was a separate alter as well. She simply stared with an unsettling stillness, waiting for him to finish before insulting the shit out of him.
“Now you listen to me, Rat,” Gwen had not moved from her position at the table, hands folded on the surface and the epitome of ‘in control’. “You are not my father. You’re Raphael’s father. I’m here because he’s scared of you. I’ve seen what you’ve done to him, I’ve been there for him when Red was fronting, and I must say, that I absolutely loathe who you are.”
She barreled forward, voice hardening and eyes growing frosty when Splinter tried to interrupt. “But Raphael still cares for you. Why, I don’t know, but I’ll respect his wishes to not stab you right in your short little eyes.”
She leaned back in her seat, her and Splinter engaging in a brief staring contest. “You don’t have to believe me. However, we do ask that you respect us as alters. Acknowledge that Raphael had a shitty childhood and does have several mental wounds and trauma that need time to heal. His brothers know who we are and are trying to help Raph overcome his biggest obstacles one day at a time. It is up to you to decide whether or not you will respect Raphael’s condition, or continue to pretend it doesn’t exist and cause him more stress.”
Silence descended upon the room’s occupants. His three youngest said nothing but did fiddle nervously. Gwen was unfazed by the atmosphere, most likely used to it, but did continue to stare Splinter down as if she could burn a hole right through him.
Splinter relented. “I assume you have an ongoing list or something of the sort that describes these alters of his?”
That night was spent with several alters coming forward and others staying behind with Raph. Missing information or random tidbits about Raph and the alters were provided by his children with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Splinter felt more disconnected with is eldest than ever.
The plan was similar to their previous one for Raph’s DID discussion. The only difference was they had to figure out a way to prevent Raph from spiraling and ways to do damage control if things got messy. They also needed to convince Raphael to open up not only to them, but to their father as well. If he didn’t want to talk to Splinter directly, his siblings had no problem describing his struggles as Raph did for them.
There would be no time limit, no pressure, and in a controlled environment where he was not alone.
That train of thought led them to the first part of their plan: telling Raph about it when he’s at his calmest.
So, at precisely 1:36am, three figures crept into Raph’s room while he was asleep, doing their best to be quiet since Raph would wake up at the slightest notion something was wrong. Once they were safely inside, they let Mikey harness his youngest sibling privileges to wake the eldest up. It would most likely be met with immediate concern instead of several questions if Donnie or Leo were to wake him.
“Psst, Raph,” Mikey poked his brother in the shoulder a few times. Other than a grumble, he didn’t wake up.
“Ya gotta be more insistent, Mikey, the guy’s not made of ya grandma’s fine china,” Leo whispered. Donnie stifled a snort into their fist.
Mikey huffed before deciding to shake Raph instead. “Raph. Raph. Raphie, wake up—”
The eldest jolted, inhaling sharply before squinting up at the youngest. “Mikey?” Raphael sat up, rubbing his eyes, voice gravelly from sleep. “What’s wrong?”
It was then he noticed the other two standing behind Mikey and quickly woke up. “Are you guys okay? Did something happen?”
He heard Leo stifle a giggle. “Raphie, I frew up—”
“Oh my god, Leo, we did not come in here for that—”
“Too many chimken nuggies—”
“LEO—”
Raph relaxed a bit at the sight of the twins bickering. He was glad they weren’t sick though; he really did believe those days of them coming to him sick were over. Another thought struck him.
“Why are you guys in here at—” he checked the clock, “1:40 in the morning?”
“Weeeeell…” Mikey stalled. Raph looked between them, patiently waiting for an answer.
“Oh, for the love of—we know you’ve been unhappy Raph, so we’ve come here as a sort of intervention.”
Mikey and Leo stared at Donnie in slight horror.
“Dude, that was NOT how we were going to break the ice!”
“There is no ice to be broken. And you guys were taking too long. I have things to do, people to see—”
“At almost two in the morning?” Leo deadpanned.
“That is none of your concern.”
Raph knew the conversation was going on next to him, but he couldn’t’ concentrate on it. His sleep fogged brain plus the revelation that he hadn’t fooled them at all had his mind spiraling.
“You…” his voice shook, “you knew that I wasn’t happy at my party?” He stared up at them with terrified eyes. “I didn’t—I mean it was great, it was! I just—I haven’t…it’s been a bit hard for me to focus lately, but please don’t think I was taking you guys for granted! I truly do appreciate you guys taking the time to even throw a party in the first place, you really didn’t have to, not for me—”
“Woah, woah, Raph, hey. Calm down big guy,” Leo crouched in front of him, tone soft and slightly concerned. Mikey gently grabbed his hands and pulled them away from his arms while Donnie sat next to Leo on the floor.
“We threw a party because we wanted to. You deserved something nice for your 21st and we wanted to try and cheer you up a little,” Leo explained.
“Yeah, we didn’t do it ‘cuz we were obligated to. What gave you that idea?” Mikey inquired.
“Raph,” Donnie interrupted, “if Papá is pressuring you to do something you don’t want to, you have to tell us. We’ll handle it.”
Usually, Raph would deny it. He would deny needing help, deny feeling pressured, claim he didn’t need them to worry about him. But they were right: he was holding on to his last thread of self-control. He’s felt close to bursting from the turmoil inside him, his heart cracking and pouring out grief and despair that leeched into his bones and poisoned his thoughts. Other days he drifts through the motions, feeling nothing but exhaustion, even when patrolling.
He didn’t know what to do anymore; he was stuck.
“Okay,” he whispered. Raph looked up at his siblings with growing desperation. “I need help. Will,” he swallowed, “will you help me? Please?”
His siblings had never heard the eldest softly plead like this, desperation in his gaze, looking somehow smaller than he was. However, this hardened their resolve. If Raph was admitting that he needed help with no resistance, then he was running on fumes and was close to a breakdown. They reassured him that they would do everything they can to help him feel normal again, and to not worry about how or the repercussions that may arise from their father.
Leo spoke. “Let us handle this, Raph. You’ve done enough.”
They stayed with him until the oldest fell asleep. The three looked at each other, determination filling their voices as they whispered out the second part of their plan.
It was time for phase two: the discussion.
*---------------------*
Gathering everyone in the kitchen was familiar, but now the three siblings understood why Raph was so apprehensive to confer in one place. The kitchen seemed to be the neutral ground for heavy conversations; the table acting as a barrier between their father and his children.
Raph sat at the head of the table, Splinter sitting at the other end. His siblings were sat in the rest of the chairs closest to their brother. They all sat in silence for a bit, not quite sure how to breach the conversation. Splinter was well aware that they were to be discussing Raph’s recent turmoil, but he felt that they were well past sugarcoating anything.
“I know you don’t love me anymore.”
Raph jolted and sat up straight. He could hear his sibling’s sharp intake of breath. His heart hammered in is chest, thoughts racing. Did he not love his father? That wasn’t…it couldn’t…“I-I don’t—”
Splinter gave him no time to think. “Do you resent me, then?” He tilted his head and watched Raphael with a carefully blank face.
He didn’t know. Raphael felt so many different things towards his father over the years: some emotions festered and died, others grew, and some had been there for as long as he could remember.
“Woah, dad, what happened to a ‘hello’, or ‘how are you’? Don’t just accuse him of hating you off the bat,” Leo rebutted. He emphasized his words by jabbing the table.
Splinter did not argue back, but his ear flicked in his blue son’s direction. “I already know why we are here, Leonardo. It was like this when we were having our discussions—there is no need for niceties.”
Oh, they didn’t like that. He could see his siblings gear up to argue on his behalf, but the eldest was not here to moderate any arguments between them and their father. Raphael held up a hand to keep his siblings quiet and waited until they begrudgingly settled.
Fuck it. If he wants to dance around answers, then fine. I can do that, too.
“I’m tired of you.” He ignored the wide-eyed look Splinter gave him. “I’m tired of being around you. I want to love you so bad, to feel any type of affection for you, but I can’t. It’s grown and died—crushed in your hands and glued back together before being burned to ashes.”
Splinter blinked a few times before steeling himself. “That is not what I asked you, Raphael. And—" he held up a hand to silence his other children before they interrupted, “I will do my best to listen and understand, unlike our last conversation.”
Raph took a deep breath, running a hand down in his face. “You know what? Fine. I hate you.” Raphael’s voice trembled. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…but I’d be lying if I said I wanted you completely out of my life.”
Nobody spoke. Mikey briefly patted his arm in as a silent comfort, Donnie’s mouth twisted, and Leo dragged a hand down his face. They didn’t know the relationship between their brother and Splinter had degraded so much where it only brewed resentment.
They should’ve known better. But, they also knew that Raphael would never blame them for not noticing—he tried to keep it secret for a reason. It left a sour feeling.
“…I am sorry, Raphael.”
“It’s fine.” He monotonously replied. He was tired of the apologies—they meant nothing to him nowadays.
“It is not,” his father’s voice was firm. “I love you, my son, and what I have done to you is unforgiveable. It pains me to hear you say that you hate me, but I deserve it. I treated you terribly and will apologize as much as I can.”
He didn’t believe it. “Stop. Please, just stop,” Raph plead.
“I cannot say that I love you?”
“It hurts!”
Now Splinter was miffed. “And why? First, I don’t say I love you enough but now you do not want to hear it at all?”
Raphael grit his teeth. “Because the only times you’ve said you loved me is after you hurt me. I don’t…I don’t think that you know what loving me is supposed to be like. I don’t think you even know how to love me. I can’t even love myself.”
His siblings stared at him with heartbroken expressions, but didn’t intervene, not yet. The eldest needed to get this out of his system.
Splinter stood on his chair, one hand on the table and the other pointing towards himself. “I am trying, Re—Raphael. What more must I do for you to trust me?”
Raph stood as well. “I don’t know, okay?! I don’t know. I’m hurt, confused, angry, bitter, and so fucking guilty because you’re the only dad I’ve ever known, and I can’t even do this one thing for you. I just…”
He sat down heavily, resting his elbows on the table and laying his face in his hands. His next words were muffled.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
Splinter tapped his fingers of the table, thinking. “I want you to tell me what you recall from your childhood.”
Raph sighed. “I thought we’ve been over this. You don’t remember much; I don’t remember much—there’s no point in rehashing this.”
Splinter was insistent. “But something is still bothering you. Something that makes you afraid to look me in the eye.” He thought for a moment. “Is it because I asked you to forgive me?”
“Called it,” he heard Mikey mutter.
Raph bit his lip as his shoulders slumped. “It’s not just that. I don’t know if you’re pretending that you don’t remember what you’ve done to me, or if you’re just denying it to save face, or if you really don’t know. It’s…confusing, to say the least.”
His father’s eyes flicked to the side and Raph’s stomach sunk: Splinter was well aware of what he did to Raphael, he just wanted to hear how much he remembered.
Anger coursed through him. Splinter wanted to see how much he could recall? Fine then.
“You want to know what I remember? Okay! I remember,” he began sarcastically, “my daddy ALWAYS screaming at me for no reason, then hugging and apologizing after hitting me with either a fist or a bottle. I remember him ignoring my crying, throwing me into one of the dark utility rooms for hours until he came to get me.”
His father’s eyes widened in terror. “Stop—”
He could see Donnie’s head snap to him, mouth slightly agape. They most likely remembered some of the mentioned incidents, but Raph also knew that Donnie had been on the receiving end of Splinter’s rants several times as well.
“I remember being told to get over myself, to watch over my little siblings because they were more important than me. I remember trying my hardest to do everything right, to be perfect and obedient, but there was always something that set you off. I remember roaming the streets at 7, having to fend off the homeless and creepy crackheads who didn’t care what kind of kid I was, just that I was a kid.”
Leo and Mikey were distressed.
“Raphael—”
“And the worst part is, those are only the bits I do remember. Red and Savage hold most of the childhood trauma, so there was definitely more. But I don’t want to know. I’m already struggling with my own memories; I don’t need a barrage of new ones fucking up whatever acceptance I have for what’s already happened.”
Silence reigned over the kitchen. Raph’s heavy breathing could be heard, but he didn’t make any moves to leave the room. Splinter simply stared at him in shame.
“You bastard,” Mikey’s venomous voice startled them all. Never in the family’s lives have they heard the youngest so hateful. “How…how could you do that to him? To Raph? He is the most gentle person we know, and all he wanted to do was make you proud and you fuckin’ tossed him to the side like…like trash!?” His voice gained in volume as he continued. “Do you feel no remorse? No regret? What do you gain from denying it ever happened? Huh?!” he slammed a hand onto the table. “Answer me!”
“Michael,” Donnie quietly stopped their brother, “give him a chance to answer. I want to hear what he says.”
Mikey glared at their father one last time before scoffing and crossing his arms.
Leo was still quiet, not even cracking a joke to lighten the mood. Raphael barely focused on the argument that ensued.
Splinter bounced his gaze between the two before he spoke. “I do regret how I have treated Raphael—how I’ve treated all of you—but it is difficult to remember sometimes because of the depression., and sometimes I became so angry with my life that…I don’t know,” he sighed, defeated. “I did try my best with you four—"
“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that card. Raphael did everything in terms of raising us, we’ve explained this before. Just because you took out your issues on Raph doesn’t mean he has to do the same to you. All you did for Raph was make him feel ashamed of himself,” Mikey accused.
“Raph has always been like a father to us. Even in the past year or so that you’ve been around more, you won’t get that title. Not from me.” Donnie quietly added.
“Raphie,” Leo’s shaky voice broke the argument. “Did…did he actually do that when we were small? Say those things to you?”
Three pairs of eyes bored into Raph’s own.
His blood ran cold—he messed up. They weren’t supposed to know how much he’s shielded them from; it was his burden to bear, not theirs. They needed to have a decent childhood. Raph was just…there. He needed to fix this.
“Um, well, yes. But it’s not as bad as it sounds, honest. I’m just being dramatic,” he stammers and awkwardly tries to laugh it off.
Donnie’s eye was twitching dangerously (and were suspiciously wet), their glare burning a hole into the table.
“Raphie, please stop downplaying your trauma. These are serious events that have happened, you can’t just ‘forget’ about them,” Mikey told him brokenly.
“No, that’s not—"
“Raph, this is insane! We didn’t know the half of what he’s done, and you want us to gloss over it?!” Leo exclaims.
“Guys, please. You don’t need to do this—"
“Of course we do, Raph. You’ve listened to our problems patiently and with little complaint. Tell me what you need us to do,” Leo demanded.
Mikey laid a hand on Leo’s arm. “Leo, maybe we should wait until later to talk about this,” he suggested, though he didn’t sound too happy about it.
Leo stood, knocking his chair backwards from the force of it, electricity arching over him, eyes darting between him and Splinter, mouth curled in a snarl. “No! You’re always protecting us, Raph, let us do this for you!”
Leo has heard diners whisper about his eldest brother’s appearance. Raph would sometimes pick up their orders to bring back to the Lair and leave some for Leo after his shift. He didn’t make a fuss, was quiet, polite, and always greeted Se ñor Hueso when he came into the restaurant. However, yokai and humans were similar in the fact that they could be judgmental. Diners would stare, taking into account his size, spikes, blinded eye, scarred arms. Leo heard the whispers, assumptions about Raph that were the complete opposite of the truth.
It was unfair because they didn’t know him. How his eldest brother was so gentle, so compassionate, and tries so hard to not be bitter at the world because he cares too much about its inhabitants. Raphael could’ve given in to his anger, become so desensitized to the world around him, treat strangers how they would’ve treated him—but he chose to be kind. Even when Leo, Donnie, even Mikey were at their lowest, drowning in their demons, and treating Raph like utter garbage, he never turned his back in them, even when he had every right to.
“Hey, Leo, look at me,” Raph’s soft and patient voice broke Leo out of his self-loathing and he looked up. His brother’s eyes weren’t judgmental, frustrated, or pitying—they were soft, patient, and warm that settled him in a way that only Raph could.
“Even if you only manage to take one step today, I’ll still be so proud of you. Okay?”
Leo cried for the first time since the invasion.
He managed to take three steps before Raphael swept him into his arms, lifting him up and shouting words of praise. Leo felt Raph bury his face into his neck, shoulder becoming suspiciously wet.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Lin. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
The guilt from his addiction still haunts him at night. His biggest fear is Raph being disappointed in him. But he’d rather be subjected to the Prison Dimension one thousand times over than let Raph be hurt by Splinter ever again, not when he could prevent it.
Mikey, who he has only seen genuinely angry a handful of times, stood as well, sparks popping at his fingertips. “For fucks’ sake Leo, we can’t make this worse. But, yes, Raph, we’re trying to say that you don’t have to do this on your own! You’re NOT alone.”
Mikey had to bite his tongue to avoid smearing ignorant yokai on the ground when he sees them backing away from Raph. Why did they automatically assume he would hurt them when he doing literally nothing but standing there? Even when Raph liked to have his bandana tied into a bow, parents pulled their kids away from the eldest, whispering to them about dangerous yokai on the streets.
It made Mikey’s blood boil. Oftentimes, these encounters were the reason why his powers often went haywire before he could control them. The unfairness of yokai to judge, fear aimed in Raphael’s direction—they didn’t even know him!
“You don’t need to be angry at strangers, Mimi,” Raph told after he accidentally torched a sewer wall. They were sitting on the floor in Mikey’s room, the younger watching forlornly as Raph massaged aloe onto his arms.
“Hatred only breeds more hate. It’s unfair, I know, but it doesn’t bother me, not really.”
Mikey scrunched his face, looking away. “But the way they look at you, how they treat you—doesn’t it make you just a little angry?”
“I’m not angry, Mikey. But I know that anger can be addicting. I don’t want you to become bitter over something you can’t control,” he tipped Mikey’s chin to look at him, “I don’t want you to be like me.”
How Raphael was so wrong. Mikey looked up to him more than anyone he’s ever met or heard of. He wanted to be strong, kind, gentle, yet firm and steady just like Raph. But Raphael’s eyes were sincere and slightly pleading for him to not start a fight over this, not for him.
Mikey’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I won’t try to start fights anymore,” he muttered, “but I’ve always wanted to be like you, Raphie. You’re my big brother, how could I not?”
Mikey pretended not to see the tears that fell onto his scarred arms and felt something within him solidify. Nothing would ever happen to Raph, not on his watch.
And Donnie, as quiet as ever, silently gets up from their seat, eyes glowing a dangerous purple—almost black—face perfectly blank. “We’ve got your back on this one, Raph. Let us defend you for once.”
Donnie knows that Raphael is often labelled ‘dangerous’ by citizens of the Hidden City. Not that Donnie didn’t get worried stares as well, but it was because they were a technology pioneer in the Hidden City and recognizable to most yokai, not because they were wary of Donnie themselves.
People went out of their way to avoid Raph and Donnie on the streets, parting like the Red Sea. People jumped when Raph accidentally brushed into them, eking out a terrified ‘sorry’ before scuttling away. He could see well-known yokai wanting to come over and talk to Donnie, but hesitating when they saw the imposing figure of their older brother.
Donnie wasn’t very good at identifying emotions, but they knew that this simmering anger was on behalf of their big brother.
“It’s not fair, Raph!” They exclaimed, slamming the tools back onto their desk. They took a few deep breaths. “It’s not fair.…”
Raphael stood next to them. He didn’t touch, didn’t pry, didn’t demand an explanation, but just his presence was enough for Donnie to ground themselves.
“Donnie, even if your company fails, your patents expire—hell, even if you somehow manage to get outed as a mutant and lose everything you’ve worked for—I’ll still be so proud that you were daring enough to attempt this.” Raph’s words were sincere and laced in fondness. “I’ll always be cheering for you, okay? No matter what you choose to do.”
It was one of the rare times that Donnie clung to someone, but they did in that moment. Raph was always the best safety blanket, and they were silently relieved that their big brother was still taller than them for an encompassing hug.
“You’ll get through this, Donbon, you always do.”
Donnie would kill for their brother. Even if it added a new felony to their long list of crimes or landed them in the Hidden City prison, it would be worth every second. Nobody messed with Raphael.
The protests from his younger siblings caused major Deja-vu from the last time these conversations happened almost a year and a half ago. He shouldn’t be surprised at their protectiveness of him, they could be just as bad as him sometimes. But the feeling of needed to be defended, being protected, made him nauseous. It’s not the way it was supposed to be.
However, Raphael takes a good look at his younger siblings and his heart somehow breaks and swells simultaneously. They’d gotten so big.
Donnie was taller than Leo at 7’4, but still shorter than Raph. Their expression was more severe, sharper jawline, dark eyes shining with intelligence and almost always glaring. Their purple markings had extended down their arms and legs, tapering off in thin lines; the rectangles were barely visible under their mask. Donnie had put on a lot of muscle not only from training, but from the physical labor in their lab; their mask was adorned with piercings alongside the spider bites on their lip. The scars on their arms and face had faded but were still visible. The eyebrows, of course, stayed. Sometimes Raphael forgets how intimidating his purple sibling could be, and it didn’t help that their arms were crossed and currently giving off a murderous intent towards Splinter.
Leo had grown as well—around 6’7”—but was still relatively short in their family. He usually had an easy-going look for a smirk on his face, often highlighted by his red stripes. Leo had lost the rest of his baby fat, face sharp and eyes always tracking the exits. However, he was appointed co-leader for a reason. In serious moments like this, all jokes and smiles ceased; he stood straight, lithe form not betraying the strength and confidence his brother has; his voice was steady, commanding, and cold. He's heard people say that Leo’s unwavering gaze made them shiver. The air around him crackled with invisible electricity. Leo’s glare was icy, blue eyes almost crackling with electricity, his scars and cracked shell adding to his title of a badass leader.
Mikey shot up as well, hovering around 6’0. Raph knew Leo was going to be pissed if Mikey managed to be taller than him—he was almost inconsolable when Donnie started to use his head as an armrest. His youngest brother was still as energetic and radiant, but he had mellowed slightly as he got older. Mikey’s face was rounder than his sibling’s, but no longer looked like the child he was used to. He’d put on muscle, which was understandable with the number of things he could lift without breaking a sweat. The scars on his arms had not faded—an after-effect of mystic injuries as Draxum put it—and even got a tattoo from a specialized shop in the Hidden City. It was a colorful sleeve that swirled and complimented the scars beautifully, ending at his shoulder. The youngest should never be crossed. Mikey’s normally warm eyes had chilled, jaw clenched and never leaving his father. His fingers were drumming on his crossed arms, small flames dancing after each tap.
Raph could feel himself begin to slip. The argument around him became muffled, his ears rang, and his limbs felt numb. He couldn’t feel the cracked wood under his fingers and wasn’t aware of a pair of dark eyes scanning him. He began to drift.
These may be Splinter’s children, but he was more self-aware to know when he was being threatened by them. He stepped out of the room.
Nobody stopped him.
“Are we supposed to just glance over everything Raph’s said? Just pretend it’s not true?!” Leo exclaimed. He glowered at Mikey, hands flat on the table as he leaned over it.
“That’s not what I’m saying! What I’m saying that we can’t talk about this right now.” Mikey defended. He didn’t back away from Leo, understanding where his anger was coming from. He was not a fan of being yelled at straight in his face, though.
“And why not? This is the perfect time to talk about this—”
“Fucking LOOK AT HIM, Leo!” Donnie never shouts, barely ever has any inflection on a good day—it’s just the way they were—but this raw, desperate shout froze the occupants in the kitchen in shock. Donnie swung his arm in Raph’s direction, noting that the eldest had not moved and was vacantly staring down at the table as if he didn’t know what it was.
“You two yelling at each other over his trauma is making the situation worse for him!” Donnie straightened to their full height and glared at the other two, daring them to object. They didn’t. “So, sit the fuck. Down. Shut the fuck. Up. And let him breathe for a second,” Donnie growled.
Leo sat down, muttering a soft apology to Mikey and restlessly drummed the table.
“Mikey, could you heat up some tea, put it in a mug, and give it to him? He’s dissociating.” Mikey gave a mock salute and moved to complete his task.
“Leo, talk to him.”
Said brother was frustrated with their situation, face scrunched in irritation. “About what?”
“Anything. It doesn’t matter,” Donnie’s voice grew a bit frantic, “what you did today, how work is going, that hot waiter you keep gushing to me about, Jupiter Jim, anything, Leo.”
Their twin thankfully only gave them a hesitant look before turning to Raph and talking about the waiter at Hueso’s. Donnie breathed a sigh of relief as Mikey returned with a newly warmed mug, wedging it between Raph’s palms. He sat across from Leo and listened to him (for the hundredth time) swoon over how soft this guy’s fur looked and how he laughed at his jokes. Donnie left the kitchen to find the fuzziest blanket they owned, thoughts jumping between their simmering rage for Raph’s mistreatment and how Leo and that waiter were both morons (Leo though the guy was so suave; Donnie watched him trip because Leo smiled at him and vice versa).
Lost in thought, Donnie almost missed Splinter rummaging through some old boxes near the beanbags.
Just get the blanket and get out. Unfortunately, Donnie often forgets that Splinter was raised a ninja as well.
“Donatello, may I ask you something?”
They glanced at Splinter, noting how he was not looking at them, but at their uncovered arms. Donnie quickly picked up the blanket and cradled it close to them.
“If you must.”
“Please, be honest. What are your…opinions towards me?” They hadn’t seen Splinter this frazzled since Leo got stuck in the Prison Dimension. However, Donnie was not known for their overflowing empathy towards someone they held even the slightest bit of ill will towards, and they were not about to start today.
“You tried. In the last year and a half, you’ve been more present, getting to know us, trying to understand us, and helping us through our rough patches. I thank you for that. However,” they levelled Splinter with a dead stare, “I won’t forgive you for what you’ve done to Raphael. He never deserved any of it because he is the kindest, most compassionate and understanding being to ever grace this godforsaken planet,” they stepped forward, towering over Splinter, “he was the one who was there when we were all struggling. He was there when we were at our lowest and damn it all to hell if we’re not there to help him through his lowest.” Donnie kneeled in front of the man they used to consider a father many years ago.
“If it were up to me, I’d keep you as far away from him as scientifically possible.” They stood and began walking back to the kitchen, Leo and Mikey’s voices filtering through the doorway.
Splinter had one last question. “And if I were to—and I would never, not anymore—hurt Raphael in any way, what would you do?”
Donnie stopped but didn’t turn. What would they do? What could they do?
“I would pray that our ancestors look away. They wouldn’t want to see what I would do to you.” Their voice was soft and calm, a sharp contrast to their words.
Donnie left their father crouched over old boxes and stained photographs.
The remaining three did learn about the horrors of Raphael’s childhood both from their father and from Raph and Red themselves. The three were dry heaving and crying so hard their chests hurt at the end.
They didn’t leave Raph’s side for days afterwards. They would check, double check, and triple check that he was okay, if there was anything they could do for him. At first, he was annoyed at the coddling, but realized it was out of concern, not pity.
They truly cared about his wellbeing.
And so, he slowly began to tell them things they didn’t know. He’s scared of the dark and being alone because it reminds him of the cold, lonely hours spent locked in the utility rooms, too small to reach the door handles. He hoards soft blankets and stuffed animals because he always got the ratty, torn blankets and thin sheets for years—he wanted to make sure they were comfortable and warm first. The stuffed animals were soft and an added comfort for him. He never dared to touch the plushies they had when they were small in fear of ripping them up. He wants to able to ask for things, but never learned how and is terrified of being rejected or yelled at simply for asking.
It was a work in progress, but he no longer felt as tired as he used to.
The relationship between their father and his kids became strained again. It was driving Raph crazy and being in a tense atmosphere all the time made his headaches worse. He was losing track of time again, losing control and coming back days later with no recollection of who was fronting and why.
However, his siblings, once again, did not give him a chance to fix that himself. A month after their discussion, they managed to smooth things over with Splinter—it was back to the way it used to be.
“Tell me about Raphael.”
They took turns explaining his obsession with wrestling and his love for animals. How he’s the kindest person on this planet but is still trying to figure out who he is. They’ve kept every gift Raph has given them, cherished every piece of advice, and would do everything in their power to keep him from being hurt again. How he admires Princess Peach, and his favorite color is actually pink because it reminds him of the flowers he sees in Central Park. That Raph’s biggest hope is seeing his siblings happy and excelling at whatever they do. How his biggest dream often changes from finding happiness, to finding peace, to being content with existing.
Slowly, Raphael began to speak with his father, starting with a simple ‘Good Morning’ and ending with a ‘Good Night’. He did not mention the relieved and watery look that his father gave him when he first said good morning.
Two years later, Raphael moved out of the lair into a small but cozy place in the suburbs of the Hidden City.
Well, less of a suburb and more of the outskirts. His job as a personal trainer paid well due to his high-profile clients. The homes were spaced about an acre away from each other in the area Raph chose, one story and meant to only house a small family. The land was quiet and green for miles: rolling hills on the horizon, tall and beautiful trees (some that resembled New York’s trees, others more mystic in nature) surrounded his home. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, the wind rustling them to create a perfectly relaxing noise, the tuned wind-chimes adding to the atmosphere; a nearby river was heard. The heart of the Hidden City could be seen from his house.
He's friendly with the locals and they are familiar with him. They’re no longer put-off by his size and appearance, but do know him as a very kind young man who shops in the market daily, making conversation and keeping any petty crime at bay. The children love to climb on him (with his permission of course), and the adults are happy to exchange stories about their experiences with Raphael as well. They knew he had three younger siblings that are his entire world (they’ve seen them visit several times a week; how he kept up with them, they didn’t know), that he was raised a warrior and had fought directly against the Shredder and in the alien invasion, but instead of choosing to be bitter, he chose to be kind and was simply looking for any semblance of peace. The locals vowed to do their best; a great warrior such as him should be honored with his simple request.
It was perfect.
He felt guilty for wanting to leave the Lair, how could he not be? But he had been juggling the idea for a while. He was 23, the twins were 20, and Mikey was 19; Donnie’s patents and tech had finally started to take off on the surface and had a few tech startups in the Hidden City—they were quickly becoming very wealthy and had plans to split living between the surface and below. Leo had finally started dating that waiter crush of his—Yuichi was his name—and they’ve been going strong for 2 years. They were also talking about living arrangements. Mikey taught dance and art classes for kids and adults throughout the week and loved every second of it; she was in negotiations for a house-share with several friends she had made in the Hidden City. He couldn’t stay home forever, and with the unresolved tensions between him and his father, Raph needed to get out of there for his own wellbeing.
He didn’t know how his siblings would react to him wanting to move out, but he was met with nothing but love and support. They were happy for him. They wanted him to live life as he wanted to and to carve out his own path, free of any expectations, free of hiding, free of guilt, shame, sadness.
“A fresh start for you, Raphie,” is what Mikey said. She helped him decorate the interior with warm tones and cute little trinkets like mushroom light plug-ins to keep the hallways lit. She also helped him start a garden and gifted a few cookbooks.
Donnie helped him to buy furniture and rigged the house with their tech even when Raph protested that they didn’t need to do that. “Scoff. I’m not letting you live without my gorgeous tech, Raph. Nor am I letting you sleep on the floor until you can buy furniture. Consider it my housewarming gift.”
Leo helped with the main bulk of the move-in with his portals coming in handy, but also helped Raph to relax and feel more confident in his decision. Leo cracked jokes, showed him some of his favorite places in the City with his boyfriend, and even helped to break the ice with some of his neighbors.
On the last day of his move-in, he stood in his empty room, trying to memorize every last bit of it before he left. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t visit, but once his siblings moved out, he didn’t know if he would ever come back to his childhood home. It was bittersweet.
His siblings were waiting for him at Hueso’s (Leo formally made a reservation for once) for a celebratory dinner. This time around, he was actually excited, and not just pretending for the sake of his family. There was just one last thing he had to do before he left.
He found Splinter sitting in his chair, watching some old movies on the TV.
“Hey Pops,” he quietly greeted.
His father’s ear twitched before he reached over to the remote and paused the movie. He turned towards his son, pride mixing with dejection. “Raphael. It is good to see you.”
“Heh, yeah…” He awkwardly stood there, not sure how he should say goodbye, or if he even needed to. Last time he wanted to leave, he didn’t even spare his father a glance. This time, however, he felt like he needed some closure.
Splinter broke his reverie. “I hope you can find peace, my son. I will forever be sorry that you could not find it here.”
Raph blinked tears from his eyes, his throat tightening. “Thanks dad. For what it’s worth…I hope I can talk to you with ease someday.”
Splinter gave him a bittersweet smile, a lone tear escaping his eye. “Thank you, Raphael. But please, do not push yourself on my behalf—your healing comes first. And even if that day never comes in my lifetime and I am with our ancestors, I will always be there if you wanted to talk.” He gently put an old, shaky hand on Raph’s cheek. “Anatawo hitori janai.”
Raphael gave him a small smile back, patted the hand on his cheek, and made his way out of the Lair.
*---------------------*
There he sat in his backyard, basking in the warmth of the mystic sun, feeling the warm breeze on his scales, and listening to the wind chimes and bubbling water from the river. Raphael was…relaxed. Content to lay there without the fear of being called upon, the anxiety of being discovered, the atmosphere of the Lair that was slowly suffocating him.
He could breathe again.
The thought left him dizzy. Had he really grown so used to the pressure of everything that he forgot how to live for himself?
‘I’m proud of how far you’ve come, Raphael. We will always be here if you need us.’ Gemma’s gentle voice soothed his worries. His siblings were happy for him.
(They looked forward to seeing the real Raphael, to see what kind of man he would grow into and would support him every step of the way as he did with them. He deserved to rest).
He took a deep breath, feeling the air cycle in his lungs, loosening the tension in his shoulders before breathing out. For the first time in 18 years, he was glad to be alive.
*
*
*
There, in that small snippet of time, he finally felt something within him begin to heal.