A/N: Set in the 2012 universe (or rather a prequel fic). For those of you following my fic "Becoming Splinter," don't worry I have started chapter two. This fic popped into my head so I decided to get it out before I forgot it. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own TMNT just love being inspired by them.

Night Terrors

Squirm! Whimper! Squirm some more!

Nothing could calm the restless Raphael. Tears threatened to escape his tightly shut eyelids. He tightly wrapped his blanket around his body and curled into a ball but the position only seemed to pain him more. Being in fetal position crushed his bladder even more, feeling as though it would pop like a water balloon!

Do not think about water, Moron! That won't help! Really shoudn't have drank that extra glass of juice before bed.

An angry groan ripped through his throat as he pounded his head into the pillow. Releasing a defeated sigh, Raphael knew he was out of options. He glared at the door but finally willed his body out of bed. The door creaked open to reveal the blackened hallway. Not waiting for his eyes to adjust, Raphael groped the walls as he walked in the direction of the bathroom. He loathed these nightly visits and figured he would outgrow the habit as his bladder grew with his age. At eight-years-old he should have been able to sleep through the night but nooooo! – he had to have the extra cup of juice! He should have respected Father's rule about the food and drink curfew prior to bed, but he was so thirsty and it was a rare treat to have juice be brought home. Pineapple and orange made a delicious mix! The carton had apparently been left under a shopping cart - the owners must have missed it when loading groceries into the car. Well finder's keepers! There was a mutant family in need of the ambrosia from the surface world, and Raphael took full advantage of these opportunities. Now his bladder protested against his judgment.

Finally, Raphael stood in front of his destination. He stared at the closed door while dancing in place. His body crouched slightly as he crossed his legs as if the action served as an adequate plug for his bodily functions. A shaky hand extended for the doorknob but refused to turn it. The young turtle growled in frustration.

Stop acting like a baby and open the frickin' door!

In one swift motion, the knob turned and the door slammed open. He reached for the light switch and illuminated the room in the bulb's yellow glow, sending the hundreds of little critters into hiding. Raphael's heart dropped to his stomach – a wave of nausea overcoming him. He froze in place despite the beckoning of the white porcelain bowl.

How did they move so fast?! Where do they hide?!

It seemed so unnatural that such inferior creatures could move so swiftly and leave no trace of their existence. In fact, if it were not for his heightened senses, he may never have noticed their initial presence. Cockroaches were the ultimate ninja!

He craned his neck into the doorway but left his toes firmly planted in the hallway. Widened eyes darted around as he surveyed the room, verifying the coast was clear. Stretching out a hesitant foot, Raphael finally pushed his body halfway through the door. A nervous sigh escaped his lips. Perhaps the worst was over. All he had to do was walk to the toilet, pee, and then run back to the safety of his bedroom.

You're bigger than them. They're all hidin' from you now. Just pee and leave. It'll be like they were never there.

Mustering up his courage, Raphael straightened his back and marched into the bathroom. Almost there! He made it halfway when suddenly a chill ran down his back. He stopped in his tracks as if he was playing a game of "Freeze!" That phantom feeling of creepy crawlies made him shudder.

Knock it off! It's your imagination! Just pee and leave!

He took another step but there was that feeling again, crawling up his back, under his shell. He glimpsed at his right shoulder – the direction the shiver was racing toward – to prove to himself he had an overactive imagination. That is until the antennae poked through his shell, then its disgusting head, and then the winged body! Raphael bit his lip to stifle his scream as he ran around swatting the creature off of him. Tears streamed down his face as he raced out of that hell-hole.

"No! No! Nonononononnonooooooo!"

High pitched screams echoed throughout the lair, violently yanking Raphael out of his slumber. He shot out of bed nearly falling flat on his face as he tried to untangle himself from the sheets. Letting out a pained groan, he crawled to the door and pulled it open. Leonardo and Donatello were already peering down the hall toward the cries of their fourth brother. Each of them exchanged looks that ranged from puzzlement to worry as Michelangelo's cries turned from whines to desperate sobs. Leonardo parted his lips as if to say something but clamped it shut as their worried father rushed through the hall. Each turtle instantly followed on Splinter's heels until all four stood at the wailing turtle's door. Normally Splinter would give a courtesy knock to signal his presence before entering, but the frantic cries warranted more immediate action. He turned the knob and opened the door to reveal a tear-stained, snotty little turtle. The other three others slid between their father and the door to get a better look at the scene. As the brothers surveyed the scene, each stood in stunned silence eyes widened at what they saw. Well at least two of the brothers were in complete shock. Raphael turned his nose up in disgust at the sight.

"Dude! You wet the bed!"

Raphael pointed to the large, dark, wet spot in the middle of the bed. Michelangelo sat with his legs close to his chest attempting to put as much distance between him and the wet intrusion.

"No!" the youngest protest shooting a death glare at Donatello, who was covering his mouth to contain the giggles threatening to escape.

"Gee, Mikey, you're eight and not even potty trained! Gross!"

Another round of sobs erupted from the embarrassed brother.

"That is enough, Raphael!"

Raphael immediately shut his mouth. No matter how tough Raphael appeared to be, a stern Splinter was not to be challenged. All that was needed was a slight fluctuation in his tone and Splinter instantly commanded the boys no matter how rowdy they were. But just as he was stern, their father was also gentle in their time of need. He reached out and brushed aside Michelangelo's tears.

"Michelangelo, accidents happen even to the best of us. Just remember, my son, no drinks two hours before bed and empty your bladder before retiring for the night. Okay?"

The youngest brother let out a defeated sigh and grumbled something about being pee-free since three. Raphael's heart fluttered slightly with guilt at the sight of his youngest brother's ordeal. One side of him knew he should have been more sensitive toward Michelangelo's feelings, but the other side of Raphael knew the little brat had it coming. It just took Karma six months to finally arrive.

Raphael and roaches never really saw eye to eye. They moved to fast and were ugly and they ate garbage for crying out loud! According to Donnie, if a nuclear bomb was ever dropped on New York City, those butt ugly bugs would be the only survivors. That's just wrong!

One night, six months ago, Splinter came home with one of his surprise treats – catered subs! He just happened to be out scavenging for supplies when he came across a couple of office building employees discarding leftover food. The little sandwiches were recovered with their original plastic casing before being dumped at the end of the day. It certainly was a welcomed change from their traditional algae and worm meals. It was equivalent to how humans eat out at nice restaurants on the weekends. Raphael had packed his plate with one of each type of petite sandwich available. He only left his plate unattended momentarily to grab a glass of water. When he returned to his seat, a smug Michelangelo sat staring at him, chomping down his meal with a gitty "mm-mm-mmm!" Raphael picked up a roast beef sandwich. Michelangelo immediately picked up his glass and began gulping down water but seemed to be smirking into it. Cutting his eyes into a glare, Raphael pulled his plate closer suspicious that his brother was plotting on stealing from his share. He chomped down on the soft bread but then crunched through something he couldn't identify. Lettuce and tomato never crunched like this before. Michelangelo sprayed water everywhere as he fell into hysterical fits.

"Oh my – hahaha – I cannot believe you ate that!"

Raphael paled knowing he instantly fell victim to the prankster's sabotage, but nothing prepared him for what he was about to discover. Cautiously, he lifted the bread and the piece of lettuce to reveal the still squirmy body of half a cockroach. His reaction was instant and violent – vomit spilled out of his throat, coating mostly the dining table as well as dousing Leonardo's leg. Raphael heaved, emptying all the contents from his stomach. His brothers yelled at him in disgust. Michelangelo was nearly rolling on the floor in laughter. Splinter reprimanded Michelangelo for the prank while trying to calm Raphael and prevent any further projectile expulsion of bodily fluid.

Raphael never figured out what punishment his brother received for the stunt but he was convinced no amount grounding, extra chores, or back-breaking training was enough to rectify the humiliation he had to endure. Never had he lost composure on such a level. Never had he been reduced to a blabbering baby who locked himself in his room to cry himself to sleep while wondering what disease he must have contracted from the pest. He was convinced he would die!

From that day on, he grew ever weary those six-legged filthy vermin. He started using roaches for shuriken target practice but they were just too fast. Their speed only made him distrust the conniving critters more. Yet as occupants of a subterranean dwelling, the roaches were an ever presence in his life. Raphael eventually settled on the idea that as long as he didn't see them or crossed paths with them, then all was good in the world. He found solace in his blissful ignorance. However that fine line could only console him during the day when the well-lit lair kept the bugs at bay. The real danger was at night when the little assassins came out to attack as Raphael had learned when he ventured out for a midnight snack and spied the roaches feasting on their dirty dishes in the sink – dirty dishes that he had neglected to clean. Never again did Raphael neglect dish duty. In fact he often scolded his brothers when they failed in their diligence of cleaning every last bit of food and grease.

So when his bladder threatened to explode that night, Raphael knew what was waiting for him. Why they enjoyed spending time in the bathroom was beyond him yet there they were, crawling on the walls, in the sink, circling around the toilet seat. Courage escaped him completely.

What if one tried to crawl up my butt?!

His phobia had become the laughing stock of his brothers. A fear reinforced when one roach proved cunning enough to shimmy up his shell and play a game of peek-a-boo. Raphael raced out of the bathroom and checked himself to ensure he was rid of the bug and any of his companions. In those few seconds, Raphael had forgotten his original reason for waking up until his bladder began threatening to open the flood gates. Raphael grabbed between his legs, searching for a solution. Then his eyes landed on his youngest brother's door and his mind raced through the events of that fateful day of the cruelest prank ever. Raphael growled softly and pushed the creaky bedroom door open. He flinched and momentarily stared at his brother's sleeping form. Once confident that not even the apocalypse would wake the deep sleeper, he crept next to the bed and relieved himself. His eyes rolled back at the euphoric release as his bladder emptied of its contents. The stream seemed never ending and at one point had to hold midstream as Michelangelo suddenly changed position to lie more comfortably on his plastron instead of his carapace. Once his brother was resettled, Raphael let out his breath he didn't realize he was holding, finished his business, and dashed back to the safety of his own bed. Needless to say, Raphael did not lose sleep over his deed. In fact, the ordeal sent him into a deep dreamless slumber only to be rudely awakened by his brother's piercing cries.

Now there they stood, staring at the youngest's misfortune of being labeled the bed-wetter far beyond the years acceptable. Suddenly, Michelangelo's teary eyes met Raphael's. His eyes seemingly to plead with him. Did he suspect the truth? No, if he had, surely Raphael would have been called out by now. Yet Raphael kept a poker face, basking in the satisfaction of his revenge. No, little brother was only begging Raphael not to torture him in his time of suffering.

Don't worry, Mikey. I'm taking this little secret to the grave.

Suddenly a little six-legged visitor decided to join the party. The cockroach investigated the soaked mattress and seemed to turn its gaze to the real perpetrator. Raphael glared threateningly at the bug

Here's the deal: keep your mouth shut and stay out of my path and I won't kill you! So how 'bout it? Truce?

As if the turtle and the roach spontaneously developed a telepathic connection, the roach appeared to nod slightly before scurrying back to the recesses of the shadows. Raphael kept to his word and never tried to kill a roach no matter how much they freaked him out. Well…at least he resisted for seven more years. Spy-Roach should never have declared war over his ramen.