Part 12

Raphael screamed, watching his brother do nothing to save himself from sliding toward the flames. Raphael clung to his chain, reaching his hand out vainly as Leonardo's dark cloak vanished over the edge, and he almost let go to follow his brother down and try to save him from the heat, nevermind that Raphael would roast in his armor.

And then Leonardo reappeared, one foot on a black shadow, balancing precariously as he avoided the sharp teeth that appeared under him. Raphael could barely tell what it was that his brother stood on, just a writhing shape that wavered in the flames and heat. As the shape flailed backward, Leonardo moved with it, managing to grab the edge of the smashed window. He left a trail of blood, slashing himself on the broken glass as he went through.

Raphael squinted through the embers and smoke to try to see where he went. Instead he found the dark thing whipping around and spotting him, its face splitting to reveal rows of white fangs under slit pupils.

"Holy fuck fuck fuck—"

Mutant black snake with teeth was all that he registered as Raphael turned and dragged himself back along his chain.

The snake fell heavily against the slanted floor, winding around the railing as it started bringing its long body up. That it used to be human only made the intelligence in the eyes worse as it crawled out of the flames, hissing and snapping its fangs close at his feet.

He'd reached the anchor of his chain and pulled himself up onto a support beam as the floor finally gave way, crashing down as he stepped off. With nothing else around him, he began scaling the column it was attached to, racing upward and moving along the ceiling struts to the nearest window.

Stepping out onto the ledge took him out of the oven but into the black smoke and burning ash blown up by the cold night wind. Coughing out soot, he turned and climbed up the rest of the way, wincing as the bricks began to turn painfully hot. By the time he reached the roof, he didn't know how anyone else could tolerate it without layers of armor.

And yet his brothers were standing on an increasingly molten roof, surrounding a mass of black scales and tattered gray cloth that twisted and contorted in on itself. Raphael took a moment before he parsed out what was moving in front of him—a snake, a hideously large black snake in the last throes of its mutation. Leonardo held his sword in his good hand, but he held it with the blade's tip by his feet as he leaned against Donatello.

"Whaddaya standing around for!" Raphael yelled, barely hearing himself over the fire. "Let's go!"

Only Michelangelo seemed to hear him, nodding and shouting something to Donatello and Leonardo. Donatello took a step back, ready to pull Leonardo away from the fight—and instead Leonardo wrenched himself out of his brother's grip and brought his sword up in attack, lunging awkwardly at the snake and sinking the blade into its scales.

Blood sprayed out of the deep slice, briefly revealing the layers of muscle and blood down to the bone. The snake contracted in on itself, pulling its wound in under its coils, and its heavy tail rippled reflexively to throw Leonardo down. Instantly Donatello was between them, standing over his brother and holding his staff at the ready when Leonardo didn't answer.

In agonizing slowness, the snake's head finally reared up, its slit pupils gazing over them and focusing on the mouthful that the two turtles would have made. Its jaw split wide, revealing rows of fangs, and like lightning, it struck.

Donatello couldn't move in time to deflect as it bit through his staff, flinching at the splinters in its fangs. It shook its head, then opened its mouth for another try.

This time it was Raphael's weighted chain that slammed into its head, knocking it sideways. It reeled, then flinched back further as it was peppered with throwing stars, as a flash grenade exploded in its face.

The roof began to crack and cave in, tilting toward the center as concrete crumbled into the fire. No one had to give the order. Donatello knelt and put Leonardo's arm over his shoulders, half-carrying him to the edge. Michelangelo came afterward, helping them across the gap to the next building, then again, moving them farther from the flames, with Raphael bringing up the rear.

Raphael was the last one out of danger, hesitating almost too long as he hammered the chain to either side of the snake, trying to keep it in place. But he couldn't hem it in from behind, and it slithered away with only a brief backward glance, vanishing into the darkness.

"Yeah," Raphael muttered, "that's gonna come back to bite us in the ass."

Finding his brothers took scouring several different rooftops, all the while feeling like an attack could come out of the darkness at any moment. He found them a few minutes later, in the shadows away from the firelight. Crouched on a billboard, Michelangelo waved him over, bringing him around to where Donatello simultaneously bandaged and scolded their brother.

"—didn't even call to say you were alive. I've been going nigh frantic and you've been gallivanting around with a bullet wound—"

"It was a straight through," Leonardo said softly, then winced when Donatello's tone turned that much harsher.

"Oh, that's so much better," Donatello hissed. "'Don't worry, the bullet went right through me—la la la."

He punctuated the last with a harsh tug on the bandage currently going around his brother's thigh, drawing a grunt of pain.

"And your arm is a mess," Donatello continued. "What happened—no, better yet, what's wrong with it? I know what happened. You found the gang and figured 'twenty to one odds? Sure, no problem' and dived right in."

Leonardo put up with the muttered cursing and complaining, mentioning something about gunfire grazes and knife wounds, but he froze when he saw Raphael coming close. He started turning to face him, wincing as Donatello forced him to sit back again.

"I swear to God, you move one more time—"

Turning just his head, Leonardo watched Raphael come kneel beside him, demanding an answer before Raphael could.

"Is it dead?" Leonardo asked. "Tell me it's dead, please tell me it's dead."

Raphael shook his head. "Gave it a hell of a headache, but it slithered off."

"Then we have to find it," Leonardo insisted, about to come to his feet until Donatello put a hand on his plastron and shoved him back far less gently than before. It did nothing to stop him. "It has to die tonight—"

"You nearly died instead," Raphael said. "It would've swallowed you both whole."

"It'll be harder to kill next time," Leonardo said, "next to impossible. It'll be a damn dragon. Please, if we just—"

This time Donatello didn't give him time to try. He grabbed Leonardo's throat, pressed him back against the iron supports, and leaned in close, whispering furiously in his brother's ear. Leonardo put a hand on his brother's, tense as he listened, and then he relaxed, breathing out once. In the silence as Donatello waited, with Michelangelo and Raphael exchanging a nervous look, Leonardo closed his eyes and finally nodded. Donatello released him and continued the bandaging without a word.

"So we kick its ass later," Raphael said as the moment passed. "When we're better. And when you tell us what the hell it is."

"Would've helped to know before we went in," Michelangelo said, sitting next to him. His voice audibly hurt. "You should've called at least."

"...I couldn't." Leonardo didn't argue against Donatello's snort. "The communicator took a bullet."

"And you couldn't swing by?" Michelangelo asked.

Leonardo grimaced. "No. I can't go home."

"Well, you are," Raphael said.

Leonardo's breath visibly caught in his throat, choking off anything he might have said. But he lowered his head, refusing to look at him, quietly submitting to Donatello's handling of his splint and loose bindings around his shoulder.

"Is it broken?" Donatello asked.

A simple shake of the head.

"Still, I'll redo it when we get home." Donatello heaved a long sigh. "Or Mikey can. I need to get more flash grenades and smoke bombs ready if we're really going to be in a fight soon."

Tired of kneeling, Raphael sat down completely, groaning as he stretched out his legs.

"When was the last time you ate, fearless? Or slept?"

Leonardo gave him a look that said he didn't remember and cared even less.

"Then I think we're gonna clean out the whole fridge," Raphael said. "'Cause I am starving. And you can't go to bed and rest before you get something hot in ya."

Not far away, the sirens gathering close began to turn the alleys red and blue, coloring the shadows thrown by the fire now gutting the warehouse. Smoke and cinders blocked out the clouds while long arcs of water flung up from the street, cooling the air.

"I'll be on a boat before that," Leonardo said softly.

Raphael frowned. "Splinter?"

Leonardo nodded once.

"Whatever." Raphael waved his hand once. "He can say whatever he wants. You ain't leaving."

There was no response to that. Raphael didn't show how much that troubled him. Not because Leonardo didn't agree, but because he didn't try to argue. There was a pattern and rhythm to their shouting matches. Leonardo only fell silent when he had nothing to back himself up...or when he was so right that arguing didn't matter.

They didn't go until Donatello had wrapped up the burns on Michelangelo's hands. By the time they helped Leonardo to his feet, the helicopters were beginning to sweep the rooftops, shining search lights in broad beams. When the first light swung across the billboard, the roof was empty.

They had to take turns shouldering Leonardo's weight. As they climbed down the fire escape to the manhole cover, then began the long trek home, he moved slower and slower, nodding off so that he startled awake. Clearly he hadn't slept for a long time, and the past few days had not been kind.

Halfway there, Raphael grew fed up and simply scooped him up, holding Leonardo bad leg against himself so it wouldn't hang in his hand. Leonardo breathed in sharply, startled, and started to push.

"Chill," Raphael muttered so only they heard. "I'll put you down before we get home."

So Splinter wouldn't see. The unspoken hung between them, and Leonardo quieted, turning and putting his head on Raphael's shoulder. He hung as limp as a doll, falling asleep almost immediately.

Michelangelo quickstepped just ahead of them, walking backwards as he whispered to his brother.

"Did he really say on a boat?" Michelangelo looked as if he'd eaten something awful. "Seriously?"

Donatello, shrugging his duffel bag to his other shoulder, looked just as ill.

"You didn't get the full lecture," he said. "I did. Splinter...he seriously wants to send Leo to a whole different continent. For a year."

"'Cause he got wind of you an' him?" Michelangelo asked. "Dude, if he found out about me and Raph, or Raph an' Leo..."

Raphael almost stumbled, looking from Michelangelo to Donatello. "What? Whoa, wait—"

Donatello gave him a look warning him not to lie.

"Mikey, I can't believe you blabbed that," Raphael grumbled.

"It just kinda slipped," Michelangelo said, rubbing the back of his head. "I mean, we were wandering through the tunnels for a long time. We had lots of time to talk."

"Don't blame him for ratting you out, you rat," Donatello muttered.

"Dude, it wasn't like that," Raphael whispered, glancing to make sure Leonardo was still asleep. "I was chasing him down so he wouldn't keep stealing shit."

"And the kiss?" Donatello asked.

"He was distracting me," Raphael said, "just to get out of the damn cuffs—and hey, why the hell am I the one defending this?"

"'Cause you're available," Donatello snapped, but his own anger took the wind out of its sails as he came back to the topic. "And...yeah? Maybe? I don't know. Splinter has something in mind about a leader needing distance. I couldn't tell if he knows about us, and I wasn't about to say anything."

"So..." Michelangelo said. "Whadda we do?"

None of them knew what to say. Without a clear plan to take, Raphael could only readjust his hold on his brother and keep walking. Maybe he'd figure it out when they arrived.

But he didn't, and he ended up jostling Leonardo awake, whispering that they were home and that he had to start walking again. Leonardo swallowed the pain as he put weight on his leg, leaning hard on Raphael as they stepped inside the lair.

Their father knelt in front of the door, looking up from his meditation.

The four came up short, with Michelangelo walking into Donatello and both stumbling into Raphael, who barely managed to not drop his brother.

Leonardo didn't notice the rough handling. He met Splinter's look and, after a moment of silence, lowered his gaze.

"In the dojo," Splinter said. "Now."

Tbc...