Um. No, I haven't any excuses. And other stories have gone longer without updates. So at least it's here now, ended fairly out-of-the-ass-ly. Yep. Cop-out ending because I didn't plot. Let that be a lesson to you, children.

Disclaimer: *tumbleweed* Nuff said.

CHAPTER FOUR: IN WHICH THE AUTHOR WRAPS THIS UP.

So maybe inadvertently destroying Foot Headquarters hadn't been the best thing to do. Sure, it had been fun seeing Hun's face when everything came down on him- and since the place was reduced to a huge pile of rubble, finding an exit hadn't been too hard- but it had also left Raphael bored as fuck in one of many inexplicably dark alleys, waiting for the sun to go down.

Even as a damned spirit he couldn't just go strolling down the sidewalks in the middle of the city; no, of course he couldn't, because his encounter in the nondescript group dojo from hell had informed him that he wasn't only visible to the Shredder. Like he was just going to ignore the fact that one in ten people were going to get a good look and start screaming their fucking heads off.

Yeah, so on occasion humans had the tendency to do that anyway, but when the police started getting a couple dozen reports about turtle-monsters overthrowing civilization? They'd have to investigate that shit or risk looking like morons when the 'invasion' finally happened.

That was just blatant discrimination against other species, in his opinion. Turtle dies and he can't even fucking go anywhere. Figures.

Staring at what he was going to force himself to believe was the most interesting brick wall in existence, Raphael determined that invasion by mutated ninja animals might do the world some good. If there had only been a few more turtles in that jar…

Tch, whatever. He'd do wishful thinking once he figured out what the fuck the holdup was on his afterlife. It wasn't exactly a complicated process or anything: someone dies, they go into the light. Or burn in hell in an eternity of suffering. Or get reincarnated. Or, uh, something. On the contrary, maybe nothing.

But no one ever said anything about standing around sterotypical alleys with nothing to do, nobody to talk to and having nothing to throw. At least the other options had some pretty concrete standards. Nothing more restful or eternally torturous than watching kids lean against the fast-food joint across the street.

What a lucky guy he was. Abso-fucking-lutely lucky. Hey, later that night he could even ninja-ghost his way over there and watch from a better vantage point. Or better yet, he could even fucking pretend to lean with them.

"Endless possibilities," he told himself mockingly. After that, he stared at the wall, swore as loudly as he could and contemplated making another attempt at actually dying.

Raph was about ninety-five percent sure that humans didn't have to put up with this shit.

After another few minutes of waiting, something inside of his mind snapped and he found himself cussing out the nearest fire escape ladder for not letting him climb it. Yes, it was an inanimate object and yes, it wasn't going to return his hatred or acknowledge him in any way whatsoever. But getting pissed at things was kind of his job and he wasn't about to stop just because he couldn't properly hit anything while he was pissed at said things.

Turtles were creatures of habit, damn it.

"Stupid motherfucking ladder, like you can't fucking hold one goddamned ghost: don't even fucking weigh anything and this piece of shit thinks it's too good for me," he muttered, trying to make the metal fixture melt through the sheer force of his deadliest glare.

It didn't do anything but if that ladder had been a ninja or a Purple Dragon then by God it would've been running in the other direction. Of course, it was neither of those things and the fact that he wasn't having any effect on it whatsoever just pissed him off all the more.

He really needed something to punch.

"What, you got nothin' to say for yourself? Not gonna rise to the bait, is that it? Who the fuck do you think you are? Lemme tell you something, pal, I ain't gonna stop just because you think you're too fucking good to stoop to my level- I actually got a fucking brain, I can actually talk, what do think about that? Huh?" He demanded, heatedly making efforts to jab a finger into one of the bottom rungs. "Mr. High-and-Mighty Ladder, you're not even alive-"

Apparently he was farther gone than he'd thought, because the ladder cut him off mid-rant: and it was using Leo's voice. Raphael, what the hell are you doing?

Raph considered getting the fuck out of dodge for the sake of his sanity, but he figured if he'd already gone nuts he might as well use that to his advantage and yell at something that could yell back. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" He snarled, gesturing wildly through the wall of the building in his fury.

You're screaming at a ladder? Leo's voice answered, carrying an on-the-dot note of inquiry and concern.

Raphael almost physically felt himself bristling. Leave it to a fucking inanimate object to make him sound completely over-the-edge in five words. "Hey, I woulda stopped eventually if it hadn't started talking back."

The fire escape…is talking to you?

"Don't act so innocent," the turtle snarled, making a threatening gesture at said fire escape purely on instinct. "You don't get no points for playin' stupid."

Playing…what are you-? There was about a five-second pause. Wait, you think... Oh. Uh, I'm not the ladder. It's really Leo.

"Uh-huh. And I'm the fucking Pope."

Well, we'll discuss how that's going to fit around your patrol schedule later.

Raph heaved a long-suffering sigh and pinched the area between his eyes.

Great. This was just fucking great. The ladder thought it was Leo. It was even using his stupid dry humor jokes. So not only was he dead and insane, he also had to deal with the incredible identity-crisis fire escape.

If Mikey were here, he'd be laughing his ass off at his brother's expense.

"I got bigger problems on my hands than whether you're Leo or not, but lemme fill you in anyways: you're not. He's a fucking turtle, alright? Turtles don't have handles and they're not screwed to the sides of buildings."

You're confused.

Self-righteous ladder bastard. "What makes you think I'M the confused one?"

You think it's more likely that a ladder- an inanimate object, Raph, are you with me- thinks it's me than it is for me to get ahold of you by meditating.

Raph opened his mouth to make some kind of smart-assed response, but decided against it because that actually sounded about right.

He was a fucking idiot. An idiot that had willingly argued with a ladder. Never going to live that one down, was he? The disembodied turtle cleared his throat awkwardly, pretty much burnt-out on being pissed off for the moment. "Uh, right," he muttered. There was a moment or two of debating whether or not he really needed to answer out loud, but he figured it would be better if he actually heard at least half of his conversation.

It's not your fault. You've been out of your body for a while, Leo informed him, intuitive as ever. Once you're back in, things should settle back down.

"'Back in?' You know somethin' I don't, Leo?"

Raph, you remember what happened, right? You know what's going on?

"No," Raphael drawled sarcastically. "I always yell at ladders before I climb 'em- and you know me, just can't resist getting killed on a regular basis."

Is sarcasm really going to do you any good right now? He could practically see the annoyed frown on his brother's face. It was the patented 'my brother is a difficult moron' expression.

Raph responded with a defiant snort. "Would you like me to go back to screamin' at the fire escape?"

Would you like me to tell Mikey that you were doing it?

Raphael didn't say anything to that, which Leonardo took as a cue to start explaining things. That's better. First things first, you're not dead. The explosion and the fall just sort of…knocked you around a bit.

Well, that was a good thing to know a few hours late. "And I got stuck walking through walls and shit…why?"

You thought you were dead. There isn't much reason to go back to a body that isn't alive.

"What the hell kind of cop-out answer is that? Hanging around Foot Headquarters with Shred-Head isn't exactly a picnic, y'know. You telling me there isn't even a good reason for it?"

The Shredder? Raph, what on earth were you doing in the Saki building?

"You tell me! I was mindin' my own business, drowning in that stupid-ass whirlpool or whatever and then there I was! In the fucking SAKI BUILDING!" Leo started to make some kind of response but Raph cut him off as his train of thought made a sudden stop. "You jumped in after me, didn't you?" He asked accusingly.

That's not really important-

"You did! You jumped into the fucking whirlpool of death with a gimped-up shoulder! What the fuck were you thinking?"

What was I thinking? I was thinking that I would prefer for my little brother not to drown.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous those fucking things are when you're not already hurt? What the hell were Don and Mike gonna do when you got yourself killed because I got killed?" The younger brother ranted, ignoring the homeless man that had wandered into his alley and started watching him with some levels of disinterest in his expression. "The whole point of pushing your incompetent ass outta the way was for you not to do something stupid! It was bad enough that I was that dumb!"

If it had been any of us in your place, you would have been the first one in after them- don't lecture me about something that you'd do yourself.

"I'm not lecturing, I'm being realistic!" Raph exploded. "And the second I'm back I'm kicking your ass for not thinking straight!"

And how well is that going to go with a broken leg and a concussion?

Raphael crossed his arms and glared at the ground in lieu of not being able to see his older brother. "You jumped in, too: my beat-up ass'll kick the shit outta your beat-up ass," he grumbled half-heartedly.

The homeless man took this as a personal threat. Jumping to his feet, he cried: "you'll have to catch me first!" And with that, he took off running.

Raph ignored him.

The debris from the explosion blocked the current. You…you were the only one that got significantly hurt. So no, your 'beat-up ass' won't be kicking anybody else's. Not for a while.

If it weren't for the fact that he knew Leo would probably kick his own ass in training, he might have put up more of a fight. Besides, even in his head he could hear the classic notes of Leonardo in full guilt-trip mode. He probably felt like shit over this whole stupid thing, so Raph let it go for the moment.

If he still wanted to beat someone up when he was allowed back into the dojo, he would just take care of it then.

"Fine. Whatever. You gonna meditate me back over there or what?"

Fine, but this discussion is far from over. Relax a bit. Raphael mumbled a few complaints but did his best to comply with the request. When he actually tried, it wasn't all that hard to feel Leo rooting around in his head. On any other occasion he probably would've noticed it right away.

Stupid fucking disembodiment, screwing around with his perception.

Good. Are you ready?

"Just fucking do it, will ya?" Raph snapped, patience crumbling at the edges like spun sugar in careless fingers. "I'd like to get around to explaining this shit before I really do die."

Leo hesitated for a second. You scared us, you know. Don actually had to sedate Casey to keep him from making a one-man march on the Foot and I don't think anyone's been sleeping.

Stupid guilt. Couldn't so much as stub his toe without feeling like an asshole.

"Didn't exactly plan on that, you know." If his brother wanted anything closer to an apology than that, he'd be waiting for a long fucking time.

I know. Just…try not to do something like this again, will you?

"No promises."

No, of course not. I suppose I should just be happy you didn't say no. Okay, work with me here.

Raph relaxed as much as he could, sitting on the ground with a slight huff and closing his eyes. Getting put back in his body felt like being pulled by a million thin strings attached to his skin, which was kind of strange because waking up was usually a lot more painful than-

HOLY SHIT, I SHOULD HAVE JUST STAYED DISEMBODIED.

-and there it was: the hit-by-a-truck-and-then-thrown-off-a-cliff feeling that always accompanied a return to consciousness.

He decided that that was the last time he would be saving any of his brothers' asses. But he also knew that he didn't really mean it.

Which just pissed him off more.

See? See what happens?