Hey all, Dark here with a brand new fic! And for those of you wondering about the other fics I've got going on, don't worry, I will be updating all of them soon:)

A big giant thank you as always to Amonraphoeninx for taking the time out of her very busy schedual and beta reading this chapter, and for giving me the idea for this fic, and then letting me twist it for my own nefarious purposes. You are totally the best friend ever!XD

Also don't own TMNT, (but i really, really wish I did;)

please enjoy!

Chapter 1

Raphael yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was just after dinner, and he was still dragging his ass. He had managed to catch a few minutes sleep after training in the dojo before he had been poked awake by Leonardo, who had informed him it was time to get ready to go out for patrol. It had been a long, late night the night before and Leonardo had woke him up way before he was ready to be up in the morning for more training.

"Stupid training." Raphael growled under his breath. It had been three years since Master Splinter had passed away, and Leonardo had still not dealt well with their father's passing. They all had their good days and bad days, but Leonardo's normally intense, and focused personality seemed to have been turned up a notch. Raphael wondered if Leonardo even had fun anymore, because he swore he hadn't seen him smile in years.

Raphael flicked the light on in the bathroom and walked in, still half asleep. He closed the door behind him, hoping that a shower would be able to wake him up so that he would be able to get through tonight's patrol without falling asleep halfway through it. This was not the first time that he wished he could stand the taste of coffee like Donatello did, because then he could just have a cup and it would perk him right up. As it was, he was only going on four hours of sleep, and the chances of him seeing his bed before 2am was looking rather slim at the moment.

He turned on the shower and threw his clean clothes beside the sink. He then slid out of his sweat soaked training clothes, and stepped into the warm water. He watched the water pool around his feet before he grabbed his body wash and loofah. It was such a girly thing, but he found that regular soap tended to dry out his skin, which would then flake and become itchy. April had suggested the body wash and the loofah, and after a month of staring at it, had finally decided to give it a try and found that it actually had helped.

He worked the loofah into a good lather and began washing his arms. He moved up washing his shoulders, neck and chest before he realized that something was wrong. He frowned as he washed the soapy lather from his skin. Under the soap his skin had turned a brilliant shade of cerulean blue. He stared at his arms in shock for a few minutes turning off the water and opening the shower door, stumbling out to find his towel. He pulled his towel from the rack and something small, black, and hairy flew up, hitting him in the face.

He let out a yelp of fear as the spider bounced off his blue coloured plastron. He jumped back, slipping on the wet tiled floor. His hand lashed out managing to catch the shower curtain, pulling it down on top of him before his carapace struck the ground with a jarring crack.

Raphael lay on the floor, stunned for a few minutes as he stared at the spider that had fallen to the floor, and which now remained there unmoving. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the rubber spider, his head turning to look at the blue foamy residue that covered the walls and floor of the shower stall. He pulled the shower curtain away revealing his arms and plastron, still tinged blue.

He was sick of it! The constant teasing, pranks, and spider and bug gags from Michelangelo. Yesterday Raphael had been pouring a bowl of cereal and a cockroach had tumbled into his bowl. He had jumped back, tipping his chair backwards and falling onto the floor; Michelangelo's laughter echoing throughout the kitchen. The cockroach had been rubber, which had made Raphael feel like an idiot.

And just last week Michelangelo had fiddled with the radio station on Raphael's bike so it only played classical music.

And the week before that, his baby brother had somehow switched his ringtone so that when Michelangelo called, it played 'Man, I feel like a Woman' by Shania Twain.

Even worse, was discovering that Michelangelo had changed his ringtone for April to 'The power of Love' by Jennifer Rush.

He had been out with Casey scouring the streets for trouble when April, unable to get a hold of Casey - whose phone was dead - had called Raphael's phone. Suddenly the lyrics:

The whispers in the morning
Of lovers sleeping tight
Are rolling like thunder now
As I look in your eyes

I hold onto your body
And feel each move you make
Your voice is warm and tender
A love that I could not forsake

Had begun playing.

And the worst part was he couldn't seem to find his phone to answer it. Finally he managed to fumble it out of his backpack -even though he always kept his phone in his jean's pocket- it had made it into his backpack because Michelangelo had put it there. The ring tone was embarrassing, but when he found out that it was his ringtone for April, it went beyond embarrassing to horrifying and dangerous.

Casey had been furious, wondering why that particular song was April's ringtone, and if Raphael had feelings for April that went beyond just friendship. He had to spend the rest of the night trying to convince Casey that he and April were only friends and that Michelangelo was obviously pranking him and trying to stir up trouble. So not only had Raphael been extremely embarrassed, but Casey still watched him like a hawk around April.

He ground his teeth together, his previous weariness forgotten as hot, furious anger rolled like a monstrous tidal wave through him.

He was done. He was so far past done, it wasn't even funny.

"MIKEY!" He roared at the top of his lungs.

Michelangelo heard his brother's angry, indignant bellow come from the bathroom. He grinned with glee, glad that his prank had worked.

It was even a twofer.

Donatello had been experimenting in the lab and had made a liquid that had the unfortunate side effect of causing skin to turn blue. Michelangelo had no idea what Donatello had invented it for, or what it was supposed to do, but to Michelangelo it screamed 'prank'.

Donatello had informed him that the substance was perfectly safe, but unusable for whatever purpose he had in mind for it. And so Michelangelo had decided to slip it into Raphael's body wash. He knew that his hotheaded brother was the only one who used it, and knew that the dye would wear off in a few hours and actually dissolved completely if the skin was submerged in lemon juice. So the effects weren't permanent, but would no doubt be hilarious for a few hours.

And the spider gag with Raphael just never got old. Michelangelo could listen to Raphael's high pitched, girly scream every day, twenty four seven; because that is how his big brother sounded every single time he saw a spider or any bug for that matter.

The door to the bathroom was suddenly flung open with a loud bang as it smashed against the wall. Raphael stood there, bare-chested, and only wearing a pair of jeans. His plastron, neck and arms had all been streaked a beautiful, brilliant shade of blue mixed with emerald green streaks. Every line of Raphael's body was pulled tight, his chest heaving with barely controlled rage.

Michelangelo was attempting to keep his vantage point hidden, but he wasn't able to help the rolling sound of unbridled laughter that bubbled up and out of his mouth. He collapsed to the floor, clutching at his stomach, unable to restrain his mirth.

"Mikey!" Raphael roared. "I've had it with your pranks! That was the last straw!" Raphael ran towards Michelangelo, who instinctively rolled to his feet and bolted.

Self preservation propelled Michelangelo's legs forward as he made a mad dash for the entrance of the lair.

"Mikey, get back here!" Raphael shouted at his retreating shell. "This is the last time you are EVER going to play your stupid rubber spider jokes on me, and…" His brother's voice was lost. He was pretty sure Raphael was at least pulling on a pair of boots, maybe even grabbing his jacket.

Michelangelo had already been prepared for his flight and he made it out of the lair in record time.

He figured he would lose Raphael in the sewers and he would head to April's apartment and hang out with her and Casey -if he was over- maybe even watch a few movies to kill some time. He'd call Leonardo or Donatello before he headed home, just to make sure Raphael had finally calmed down enough to not kill him. If not, he would just spend the night at April's apartment.

He knew that Leonardo would not be happy that he had pulled the prank that had basically interrupted his plans for going on patrol tonight, but listening to a lecture from Leonardo was totally worth seeing Raphael dyed blue and hearing his girly scream of terror.

He slowed his pace slightly, a joyous grin still plastered on his face. Michelangelo zig-and zagged through the sewer tunnels heading in the general direction of April's apartment.

The smile fell from his face and he frowned when he heard heavy, running steps behind him. He would have thought that his brother would have given up by now. Michelangelo shrugged and ran faster, rounding a corner and scurrying up the metal rungs of a ladder that led to the surface.

He moved the man-hole cover and pulled himself out into a deserted alley. He took a quick look around and pulled himself out, sliding the cover back into place.

The darkened alley was still over a dozen blocks away from April's apartment, and he knew he was closer to the lair. Michelangelo grinned, knowing that his brother would believe that he was heading for April's apartment, so he decided to double back on the surface before heading home. That way his older brother would be searching for him half the night, while Michelangelo was home, sitting in front of the TV, playing video games.

The cover by his foot suddenly moved and Michelangelo let out a yelp of surprise. He hadn't realized the Raphael had gotten so close.

Michelangelo ran, not paying attention to the direction he was going anymore, just trying to get away as fast as he could from his furious brother's golden, molten gaze; which he managed to catch a glimpse of before he bolted.

Raphael pulled himself from out of the manhole, just managing to catch a glimpse of Michelangelo's booted feet before he ran.

Raphael darted after his brother, his fury driving him forward. He had managed to throw on a leather jacket and a pair of boots before furiously following him out of the lair and into the sewers.

The darkness of the night swallowed up his brother's rapidly moving figure as he darted and snaked through a series of back alleyways.

He wanted to shout out his brother's name and tell him that he was going to get his vengeance. Raphael's mind was already planning out the biggest, cruelest revenge he could think of. He was going to pull the breaker in the lair, plunging it into darkness and making sure everyone else was gone before locking the lair up tight. Then Michelangelo would be left all alone in the dark; which were Michelangelo's two biggest fears. On top of that, he was going to give his baby brother a beating he wouldn't soon forget.

Of course his jaw was clenched so tightly in anger that he wasn't even able to open his mouth to yell, threaten or even snarl out any words at all at his brother's retreating shell.

He silently pursued his baby brother with a steady, measured, but rapid pace; planning on breaking out into a full out run when he managed to gain enough ground on his brother to spot him.

Michelangelo had been heading for April's apartment, but now it looked like his brother had been scared enough to just run, and not pay any attention to where he was headed.

Suddenly his phone began playing "When a Man Loves a Woman", by Michael Bolton.

When a man loves a woman

Can't keep his mind on nothin' else

Raphael dug his phone out of his pocket as he continued to run. He knew that it would be April, because his baby brother tended to have an occasional malicious streak in regards to his pranks. Michelangelo had thought it was hilarious that Casey would think there was anything going on between Raphael and April. And it looked like Michelangelo was doing the same prank again, trying to get Raphael into trouble with Casey.

Raphael looked at the call display and sure enough it was April's picture and name on the screen.

He'd trade the world

For the good thing he's found

Raphael rounded a corner, not paying attention to where he was going or what was going on in front of him.

Headlights blinded him as tires squealed and the smell of burning rubber assaulted his nostrils. Pain exploded through every nerve, muscle, and bone of his body before an all consuming darkness engulfed him whole.

Michelangelo ran, a grin breaking out across his face as he heard Raphael's cell phone beginning to play the Michael Bolton song he had put as his brother's new ringtone for April last night. Michelangelo thought that it was hilarious that Casey would suddenly think Raphael had feelings for April; particularly since they had known her since they were young teenagers and she was five years older than they were. Of course, they weren't teenagers anymore, they were all twenty-three, and April was twenty-eight and had been dating Casey on and off for the past three and a half years.

So Michelangelo had changed Raphael's ringtone again, just to see what would happen and to stir up a little bit of trouble. That and it was Michael Bolton, which was even better because it was so embarrassing.

Michelangelo heard the high pitched squeal of rubber tires trying to brake on asphalt and the sickening thud of something hard, yet yielding, being hit by unforgiving metal.

The Michael Bolton song was suddenly cut short, and then there was nothing but eerie silence.

Michelangelo's steps slowed as he turned, icy dread suddenly crawling along his spine. "Raph?" He questioned, his voice echoing off the brick walls of the alley. "Come on, Raph, this isn't funny." He said as he began slowly walking back the way he had come. "It was just a garbage can… or-or maybe a garbage bag..." Michelangelo said to himself softly, trying to convince himself that the sound he had just heard had not been his brother being struck by a vehicle.

"Raph's too fast and alert." His voice shook as he continued to talk to himself out loud. "There's no way a car hit him." Michelangelo broke into a run, because the thought 'unless he was distracted' popped unwanted into his head.

Michelangelo rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. He saw the back of a blue pickup truck, stopped, with its lights on. The sick ball of dread that had been sliding up his spine had now slipped down his throat and curled up into a little heavy ball in his stomach.

"Raph?" He called out quietly as he slowly made his way around the side of the truck. The driver of the truck - a young man – lay with his head against the deployed air-bag. Michelangelo slid his hand through the open driver's side window. His fingers shook slightly but he was able to feel the strong pulse beneath his fingertips. The human was unconscious, a slight cut on his head, but appeared free from serious injury.

Michelangelo then turned his unwilling eyes towards the hood of the truck, which was nothing but a hunk of twisted metal. Steam rose slightly from the engine; the cold chill of the night making it slightly thicker than it would normally have been, obscuring his view of the alley straight in front of him.

Michelangelo took a step towards the front of the truck, his foot hitting something and sending it clattering a few inches away. He looked down and spotted Raphael's cell phone; at least what was left of it.

Michelangelo bent down and picked up the broken piece of plastic, metal and glass with a shaking hand. He swallowed down the lump of horror that rose up in his throat choking him. He lifted his head slightly and caught sight of a black combat boot a few feet to his right. Michelangelo stumbled over to the bloodied boot; Raphael's boot lying on the asphalt knocked off from the force of the impact.

He shook his head in denial as he stumbled towards the shadowy lump that was curled into a ball, having been tossed against the side of a dumpster.

"Raphie?" He tried again as the steam cleared enough that his brother's broken body was revealed. His eyes took in each and every single detail, but it was as if his mind was unable to process the horror of what he was seeing. It was then that his brain absorbed everything all at once, and he had to place a steadying hand on the warm hood of the truck to stop his legs from collapsing beneath him.

"Oh, God." He whimpered out in shocked horror, running to his brother's side and falling to his knees beside him. The knees of Michelangelo's jeans were quickly soaked through with the blood that pooled around his brother's battered, motionless body.

Raphael lay on his plastron, his face turned slightly away. Michelangelo's hands hovered over Raphael limp form, but he was too afraid to even touch his brother to assess the damage. His eyes moved over the scratches, and dark bruises that were already forming. He ignored the smaller injuries, and instead, focused on the ones that looked the most serious.

Blood ran down the side of his brother's cheek from a deep laceration that ran over his temple, blood gushing from his nostrils. Michelangelo felt his stomach roll at the sight of the blood that was still creeping slowly across the pavement. Black spots danced before his eyes as he forced his gaze downwards. All he could see from this angle was that his one leg looked like it was bent at an odd angle.

Michelangelo gently reached out and carefully rolled his brother onto his carapace. His brother's ripped and torn jacket fell open, revealing spider-web cracks that ran across his brother's plastron. His terrified gaze shot to his brother's face. His fingers quickly checked for a pulse at his brother's throat. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't even tell if his brother's heart was beating or not. He took a few deep breaths to calm his rapidly beating heart and managed to detect a slight flutter beneath his fingertips.

His brother suddenly shifted, moaning in agonizing pain.

Michelangelo's eyes flew to his brother's face; twin trails of bloody tears trailing down his pale cheeks."Raphie?" Michelangelo questioned, his voice shaking with too many overwhelming emotions. He wasn't sure if he was more worried or scared at the moment, but the fear left an almost metallic taste in his mouth.

Raphael didn't answer, only managing to choke out a small stream of blood, which bubbled up from between his brother's lips. His eyes opened slightly revealing agony filled golden eyes tinted with crimson.

Michelangelo waited a desperate moment, hoping his brother would tell him that he was okay, and just stand, shaking off the accident with a wry smirk and comforting punch on the shoulder. But instead, his brother only grimaced and let out a soft, agonized whimper that stopped Michelangelo's heart cold. Raphael never let on how hurt or in pain he was...ever.

Michelangelo realized that his brother was in too much pain to tell him what to do to help him; which meant he was all on his own.

His fingers swiftly reached around to his back pocket, intent on calling Leonardo and Donatello for help, when he heard the high pitched wail of police cars and noticed a slight movement of the airbag in cab of the truck.

Michelangelo looked around him in horror, realizing that he was going to have to try to move his severely injured brother.

"You're gonna be okay, Raphie. Okay? Just… just try to...to hold on." Michelangelo begged his brother as he slowly gathered Raphael up carefully into his arms.

Thoughts and opinions always welcome!