A/N: This story was inspired by Those Nights by Skillet. I don't know why but every time I listen to the song I always think of Raph and Donnie.

Hope you enjoy the story

Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Turtles

The speed at which the Shell Cycle shot down the deserted streets took his breath away. He had built the bike to go fast, but whatever modifications Raphael did made it go even faster. Raphael had been working on the Shell Cycle for a number of weeks, only coming out of the garage to ask Donatello for advice on a certain modification before locking himself away again. So when Raphael asked Donatello if he wanted to go for a ride to test drive the new and improved bike, the purple masked turtle jumped at the chance. It would give him a chance to see what kind of work had been done to the Shell Cycle and spend some quality time with his brother.

Raphael revved the engine and pushed the bike to go faster. Donatello tightened his grip around his brother's chest as he felt himself slip off the back. The logical part of his brain was yelling at him to tell Raphael to slow down, but he was having too much fun to say anything. And he could tell Raphael was enjoying himself, as well; so Donatello kept quiet. He could feel Raphael's heart pound against his palm, could feel the muscles in his brother's body tense and relax. Never before had Donatello seen Raphael so focused.

Raphael slowed down a bit as he made a tight turn on to a more busier street. He weaved in and out of traffic, just barely making it through a light before it changed to red. Donatello released the breath he didn't know he had been holding. Though he couldn't hear it over the roar of the wind, Donatello felt Raphael's body shake with laughter. The wind whipped at their jeans and jackets, creeping through any exposed openings. Donatello shivered slightly and pressed himself closer to Raphael's back.

"How are ya doin' back there?" Raphael called over his shoulder.

"I'd be a lot better if you would slow down," Donatello replied.

Raphael laughed again, but he slowed down nonetheless. He came to a set of lights and, seeing that they were green, started his way across the intersection. There was suddenly the flash of headlights, the screeching of tires and the sound of crunching metal before everything was engulfed in a blaze of pain and darkness.

"Raphie, are you listening to me?"

Eight-year-old Raphael lifted his head up from the kitchen table to see Donatello glaring down him, a blackboard with a bunch of numbers scribbled on it behind him. The red masked turtle blinked blearily up at his purple masked brother.

"What'd ya say, Donnie?" he asked.

Donatello threw his hands up in the air and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Why do I even bother? Trying to teach you math is like trying to teach a rock how to roll over."

"That would be a neat trick," Raphael commented.

"You're impossible!" Donatello declared.

Raphael laid his head on the table again. "Donnie, it's just numbers. Why do we need to know this stuff, anyway? When are we ever gonna need to know this gibberish?"

"Math is everywhere," Donatello replied. "Without math we'd have chaos. It gives us order."

"And migraines," Raphael put in.

"You need to know math to count money, build things, mix formulas," Donatello explained.

Raphael raised a hand without raising his head. "That's all fine and dandy for you, brain boy. You're the fix-it guy. I'm the hit it guy."

"And there in lies your problem, Raph," Donatello said. "You think...and I use the term very loosely, too much with your fist and not your head."

Raphael looked up again, lowering his hand. "I know I should be insulted by what you just said, but my brain hurts too much right now to be mad."

Donatello rolled his eyes. "That would be a first," he commented.

Raphael pushed the chair back and got to his feet. "Donnie, do me a favor and lighten up. I swear you and Leo could be twins."

"But-"

Raphael grabbed Donatello's arm and pulled him out of the kitchen. He brought his brother out into the living room and made Donatello face him.

"Okay, Donnie. Hit me," Raphael said.

Donatello frowned in confusion. "Have you finally lost your mind? What little you have of a mind?" he asked.

Raphael gave him a deadpan look. "I'll pound you for that later," he said.

Donatello sighed. "Raph, I don't see how hitting you has anything to do with math."

"It doesn't," Raphael said.

"Then why-"

Raphael bounced on his feet. "Just one sparring match," he cut in. "If you win, we go back to you lecturing and me tuning you out."

It was Donatello's turn to give his brother a deadpan look. "And if you win?" he asked.

Raphael smirked. "We keep goin' until you beat me."

Donatello sighed in resignation and shrugged. "Alright," he said.

He rushed forward and took a swing at Raphael's head. The red masked turtle dodged the swing and grabbed Donatello's arm. While keeping a firm grip on his brother's arm, Raphael sent him to the ground with a kick to the shell. Donatello lost his balance and fell to the floor. He yanked his arm out of Raphael's grip and swung his feet at his brother's legs. Raphael yelped as he toppled to the floor. Both brothers quickly got back to their feet and the match resumed.

The next half hour saw both brothers evenly matched with no sign of either one gaining the upper hand. Raphael swung a fist at Donatello's head, which the younger one ducked. Finally, Donatello saw his opening and he took it. He slammed his fist into Raphael's stomach as hard as he could. Raphael grunted, grabbed his stomach and fell to his knees. Donatello, completely exhausted, also collapsed.

"I...hit you," Donatello panted.

Raphael managed to catch his breath and chuckled. "Yeah, you did. Don't you feel better now?"

Donatello thought about it for a moment. He had to admit he did feel a lot lighter. "Yeah. Thanks. I needed that."

Raphael grinned. "See? Sometimes a little chaos is a good thing," he said.

"A controlled chaos," Donatello added.

Very slowly, the brothers began to snicker which turned into chuckling, which then turned into bouts of uncontrollable laughter. They laughed for no reason, other than being in the company of their best friend.

"Donnie?" a voice buzzed off in the distance. "Donnie, can you hear me?"

"He's not moving, Leo," another voice crackled.

"Please, open your eyes, Donnie," the first voice pleaded.

Noises too loud to distinguish assaulted his ears; disorienting him. Donatello moaned as he tried to escape back into the dark recesses of unconsciousness.

"No, no, no! Stay with me, Donnie. We're almost home."

Darkness began to reclaim him and Donatello gladly welcomed it.

"Step on it, April!"

The lair echoed with a resounding crash. Raphael looked up from the wrestling magazine he had been reading and looked around. He thought he had been the only one home; Splinter, Leonardo and Michelangelo had gone over to April's to get some groceries, and he thought Donatello had gone out into the sewers to check the perimeter alarms.

The crash came again. Setting the magazine down, Raphael got up from the couch and checked the rooms. He looked in Donatello's lab first, but the sound hadn't originated from there. The kitchen and dojo were also clear. Another crash sounded, this time directing Raphael to the garage. The red masked turtle poked his head into the garage and there, standing in the middle of a toppled over tool box was Donatello. Even from the doorway Raphael could see his brother's body shaking.

"Insensitive...careless...brainless...good-for-nothing..."

"Bad time?" Raphael asked.

Donatello whirled around, his brown eyes blazing. "What do you want?" he demanded.

Raphael raised his hands in defense as he stepped into the garage. "Thought you were out. Wasn't expectin' ya back so soon." He looked around at the thrown equipment. "What happened?"

Donatello looked away as if ashamed that his outburst had drawn attention. Raphael lowered his hands as he walked closer.

"C'mon, Donnie, I can't help ya unless you talk to me."

Donatello scoffed. "That's rich, coming from you," he retorted sourly.

Raphael felt a sting of hurt pierce his chest. "Did I do somethin'?" he asked.

Donatello ran a hand down his face and he let out a tired sigh. "No...yes...kinda..."

"Which is it?" Raphael asked in confusion.

"It's not just you," Donatello said, taking a calming breath. "It's Leo and Mikey, too. Especially Mikey."

"'Kay," Raphael said, now a bit closer to his brother.

Donatello bent down and started picking up the tools. "I know they don't mean to break things, and I know accidents happen, but I mean...I'm a scientist, not a handy man. I can't just drop everything I'm working on to see if the toaster is toasting right or if the TV has static."

He threw the tools he had picked up into the toolbox and put a hand over his eyes. Raphael took one final step towards his brother and took Donatello's hand.

"Come on," Raphael coaxed.

Donatello numbly followed his brother out into the main area of the lair. Raphael released his brother's hand and stood a short distance in front of him.

"Hit me," Raphael instructed.

Donatello looked up into the amber orbs that were his brother's eyes. "Not this again," he groaned.

"You need to hit something," Raphael said. "So, hit me."

Donatello pathetically hit Raphael's chest.

"Hit me like you mean it," the red masked turtle said.

Sighing, Donatello slipped into a fighting stance and put as much force as he could behind his next punch. Raphael never uttered a sound, nor did he stumble. Again and again, Donatello slammed his fists into his brother's broad chest. No words were passed between them, just the sound of skin hitting plastron. After a good fifteen minutes, Donatello stepped back, panting for breath and about to collapse from exhaustion.

"Feel better?" Raphael asked.

Donatello nodded. "Yeah," he answered breathlessly.

Raphael smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Anytime you need a punching bag, I'm here."

Donatello returned the smile with one of his own. "Thanks, Raph."

Brown eyes flickered open to reveal a dark room. Donatello carefully moved his head to look at his surroundings. He was in the infirmary; but why? His eyes drifted up to the I.V. drip that was located next to his bed. He instantly knew it to be painkillers. Donatello tried to figure out why he would need painkillers, but nothing came to mind. A door opened somewhere and footsteps padded into the room. In the darkness, Donatello could make out a blue mask.

"Donnie? You awake?" Leonardo asked.

Donatello groaned groggily. Leonardo sat down in a chair next to the bed.

"You really had us scared, Don. We thought you weren't going to wake up."

"Wha happened?" Donatello asked, his speech slurred.

"Hit and run," Leonardo answered somberly.

Donatello blinked as more intellectual thought came to him. "Come again?" he asked, more alert.

Leonardo shifted in the chair. "You and Raph were in a hit and run accident," he explained. "Some drunken idiot ran a red light and hit you."

Donatello's heart jumped up into his throat. "Raph?" he croaked.

"Alive," Leonardo replied. He looked down at the floor. "If you can call what happened to him living."

"He's...he's not..."

Leonardo looked up at his brother. "He's broken, Donnie," he whispered. "He's not our Raph anymore."

"Stop talking in riddles, Leo and tell me what happened!" Donatello barely managed to yell.

"He's paralysed," Leonardo said. "From the waist down. He woke up a couple of weeks before you."

Donatello frowned. "How long have I been out?"

"Five weeks."

Pushing the shock of being unconscious for five weeks aside, Donatello asked, "What do you mean Raph's broken?"

"He just sits and stares at the skeleton of the Shell Cycle," Leonardo explained. "He doesn't talk, he hardly eats. Leatherhead examined him and said that there's a possibility that Raph might be able to walk again, but he won't try. It's like he's given up."

"That's not surprising, really," Donatello said. "It happens to a lot of people after a serious accident when they have to relearn something."

Leonardo nodded. "Leatherhead has been trying to get Raph to try to start walking again. They've had a few sessions, but Raph's in so much pain he just gives up and refuses to try again."

Donatello lay there and took everything in. It pained him to know that while he had just gotten away with some minor injuries, Raphael had been the one to pay the price for someone's stupidity. Donatello looked up at the I.V. bag. When he was on his feet again he would do everything in his power to bring Raphael back to his old self.

Donatello stood in the garage and looked down at the warped and twisted body of the Shell Cycle. He had only been released from bed rest for a couple of weeks, but he couldn't wait until he had fully recovered; Raphael needed him. So, there he was, staring at what was once the most beautiful bike he had ever forged; broken and beaten beyond recognition. Donatello couldn't help but picture Raphael in the place of the Shell Cycle. Like the bike, Raphael was beaten and battered, twisted and warped until all that sat in the wheelchair was only a shell of his former self.

"Not anymore," Donatello muttered to himself. "Starting today the healing is going to begin."

He closed the door of the garage and locked it. No one was entering until he was finished. Donatello turned on the CD player and a song instantly began playing. The singer was talking about nights he spent with a friend that he said would always belong to them. Donatello put the song on repeat and worked as he listened to the song over and over again, thinking back on the cherished memories shared between him and Raphael.

As the song once again started, Donatello stopped what he was doing. He put away his tools and covered up what he had done of the bike so far and left the garage. Donatello searched the lair until he found Raphael in Splinter's room. They were talking and having tea when Donatello entered.

"Ah, Donatello. We have not seen you for many hours," Splinter said when he saw his purple masked son in the doorway.

"Yeah, I'm taking a break from something," Donatello replied. "May I borrow Raph for a moment?"

"Of course," Splinter said.

"What for?" Raphael asked.

"Follow me and you'll see," Donatello told him.

Raphael handed his tea cup to Splinter and wheeled his chair out into the main area of the lair. "Okay, Donnie, I'm here. What did you want?"

Donatello put the brakes on the chair and knelt down beside it. Raphael frowned in confusion, expecting another heart to heart talk; but, it never came.

"Hit me," Donatello said.

Raphael's frown deepened. "What?"

"Hit me," Donatello repeated.

"Why?" Raphael asked.

"You'll see in a minute. Just hit me."

Raphael lightly punched Donatello in the chest. Donatello shook his head.

"Hit me like you mean it," he said.

Raphael took a deep breath, pulled his arm back and slammed his fist into Donatello's chest as hard as he could. Donatello never made a sound or moved from his spot. As he punched, Donatello could feel Raphael's anger and pain. The anger of losing the use of his legs, the pain of trying to regain his mobility again; it all came out in his punches. After ten minutes, Raphael let his tired arms fall to his lap as he panted for breath.

"Feel better?" Donatello asked.

Raphael nodded slowly. "Yeah," he replied as a small smile touched his lips. "Thanks, Donnie."

Donatello gave his brother a warm smile. "You were always my punching bag. Now, it's my turn to be yours."

Raphael looked over towards the garage. "So, what are you working on?" he asked.

"That's a surprise," Donatello replied. "You'll see in a couple of weeks."

"Fair enough," Raphael said.

"But, there's a catch."

"Oh?"

"You have to make me a deal," Donatello said.

Raphael gave him a suspicious look. "'Kay."

"No more quitting when trying to walk," Donatello said sternly. "I know it hurts, and it will. But you're never going to get back on if you don't put in the effort. You can't give up; not when there's hope."

Raphael looked into his brother's soulful brown eyes and he could feel a spark ignite deep inside. He began nodding his head.

"It's a deal," Raphael said.

Everything had led up to this moment. It had been a painful process, but with Leatherhead's help and the support of his family, Raphael was back on his feet again, with the help of a walking aid. Donatello grinned down at the tarp covered object that stood before him. It was his greatest creation since the Battle Shell, and he knew Raphael was going to love it. A knock sounded on the garage door. Donatello turned away from the tarp and opened the door. Outside stood his family and Leatherhead.

"Well, Raph, you kept up your end of the deal," Donatello said.

"I'm a turtle of my word," Raphael replied with a smile.

Donatello smiled back. "That you are," he agreed.

"So what have you been working on?" Leonardo asked.

"You've been cooped up in here for weeks, I'm dyin' here," Michelangelo said with a bit of over exaggeration.

Donatello walked over to the tarp and took a hold of it. "Raph, I know it's been a rough few weeks for both of you. You were beaten, you were broken...sometimes it seemed like it was beyond repair. But you pulled through and showed the world that you would not go quietly into the night. So, right here and now, I want to reintroduce you two."

With that, Donatello pulled off the tarp to reveal a sleek, deep crimson red motorcycle. Raphael couldn't believe his eyes. Donatello had completely rebuilt the Shell Cycle. Tears stung Raphael's eyes and he fought to keep them from spilling. He stumbled his way over to the bike and ran a hand over the handle bars. Donatello walked over to his brother and put an arm around Raphael's shoulders.

"Thank you, Donnie," Raphael whispered as the tears began to fall.

Reviews are welcome, flames are not