AN: Hey guys, thank you all SO much for the reviews! I appreciate every single one, you guys make my day! I'm happy you all liked the last chapter. And a very special thanks to TheIncredibleDancingBetty as well, who helped me with the scenarios as my wonderful bouncer, and deserves much praise for helping push my procrastinating self along! Thank you!

The chapter after this will be Mikey's. Please keep reviewing! It keeps me going! :D Enjoy.

Raphael, the Rough.

Raph has a tendency to come across as callous. Raphael, undeniably dangerous, is known for his roughness. He is feared by his enemies for his occasional brutality, and his relentless ferocity. Even within his own family, he mocks, he threatens and he hits; he's an occasional bully. The last thing to come to mind when thinking of Raph is 'gentle'- he's not exactly what anybody would call soothing, and he's not one to be soft.

Except for when he can't help but to be.

He scrubs at the dishes irritably, pulling his mouth into a scowl as he works at a particularly stubborn piece of food stuck to the plate. He can't stand dish duty. It's not even his night to do it, but Mikey's late from... whatever the hell he's been out doing, and therefore the job's been dumped on him. Seriously, Mikey's the one who dirties half of their plates, anyway!

He hears footsteps from the Lair entrance- the brat's finally back. Rolling his eyes, he lets the dish he's been scrubbing at drop into the sink. "Mikey, you little shit! Stayin' out late so you'd get outta dish duty? Don't think I don't know what you're doin'." He snatches a towel to wipe his sudsy hands dry, waiting for a response. There is none. "Mike." He sticks his head out of the kitchen to glare grumpily at his brother. Mikey is standing silently in the middle of the living room, wringing his hands together as he shifts on his feet.

Raph opens his mouth to complain again but, doing a double take of Mikey, hesitates. Something's off- his youngest brother looks close to tears. His annoyance fading, Raph squints in some worry as he moves towards his brother. "Mike? What's up, buddy? You hurt or somethin'?"

Mikey shakes his head 'no', biting his lip as he plays with his hands, looking as though he's debating on what to say. Suddenly Raph feels his jaw clench- had something happened to him while he was out?

Thankfully, his little brother has never been one to remain quiet about what's bothering him. Before Raph can ask again, Mikey opens his mouth and wails,

"I ran over a cat with my scooter!"

-and it's so abrupt that Raph actually flinches in surprise. He doesn't know exactly what he'd expected, but it sure as hell wasn't that.

"I was riding through the sewers super fast- like top speed!- and, yeah, I really shouldn't have been going that fast when I can't see that far ahead of me, I know," Mikey babbles, and Raph raises his brows, peering at Mikey's skull for some sign that he'd hit his head or something, "but well, y'know, I didn't think I'd have to be on the lookout for cats just chillin' in the sewers. So I turned a corner and there he was- and I yelled 'Hey, cat! MOVE!' but he just sat there like a deer in the headlights. So I was like, oh no! And I tried really hard to swerve out of the way, but I couldn't fast enough, and I ran straight into him!"

Mikey looks at Raph frantically. Raph can only stare back. "And oh my gosh I felt so bad! He totally broke something. He had to have. That crash hurt me. I tried to help him but he hissed all mad and limped away. I looked for him for like half an hour, but I dunno where he went. And now he's off all alone, hurt somewhere, because I decided to come along and totally maim the poor guy!" Out of breath, Mike dejectedly plops onto the couch, looking like someone's just told him he has three weeks to live.

Raph has been able to do little but look on in wordless perplex. He knows Mikey has the softest spot for animals, for all living things really, but sheesh, the kid sounds like he's guilty of murder!

"That's why you came in lookin' like a kicked puppy? Uh, sorry," Raph winces when Mikey's eyes widen at the too-close-to-home analogy. "Accident's happen, Mike. 'Sides, if he was able to get away from you that fast, I'm sure he's fine. Uh, prob'ly pretty pissed, but fine."

Mikey shrugs without enthusiasm. Raph watches him, feeling a little frustrated with himself for not being better with words. Seeing Mikey upset always has a strange effect on Raph- it makes him want to, well, go out and fix whatever's bothering him. Beat the living daylights out of it, if need be. He racks his brain for what else can be said.

"Y'know this cat doesn't sound like the brightest bulb in the box, anyway. It never occurred to him to get the hell outta the way when he saw a gigantic turtle on a scooter high-tailin' it straight at him?"

Mikey sniffs and lets out a choked chuckle, his smile shaky. Very unexpectedly, Raph feels his heart fill with a warmth for his youngest brother. Leave it to Mikey to cry over hitting a damn cat with his scooter. Bonehead. His expression softens as he takes a seat next to Mike, patting his head.

"Hey. I'll go help ya look for him again, a'right? I'm sure he's okay. Alley cats are tough cookies."

"Okay," Mikey mumbles sadly, still sounding unconvinced.

Raph's eyes glint with a sudden idea. He may not be the best with words, but he does have an alternative way to cheer Mikey up. He reaches over to grab Mikey's ankle, tugging his foot towards him. Mikey looks up in confusion. "What are you- Wait, Raph, no! NO! Nnnnooooooo!" But the bottom of Mikey's green foot has been dreadfully exposed, and the assault has begun- Raph is tickling him.

"Bwahahaha! Raph, no! Get away getawaygetaway! Let go!" Mike yelps, frantically twisting away and falling off the couch, his leg still in Raph's firm hold. Raph smirks as he pretends to mull his request over. "Huh... Nah, I don't think so." Mikey squeals and claws at the rug in an attempt to escape, but Raph swiftly moves to the floor, pinning Mike as he tickles his sides without mercy.

"Raph- hehehe- get off- hahahaha! Raph!" Soon, Raph can't really help it- Mikey's high pitched belly laugh is pretty contagious, and it makes him laugh as well. He hears the click of a door opening and he freezes, looking over his shoulder.

Don and Leo are in the room, chatting with one another over a clipboard in Don's hands, and have stopped in their tracks at the sight. Raph blinks, and they blink back. They both crack grins as they turn to each other.

"Aw, shut up!" Raph growls even though they haven't said anything, shoving Mikey away from him as if he was the one conducting this. This sends Mikey into a whole new fit of giggles. "I was gettin' the brat back for stickin' me with dish duty. Purely punishment."

Leo and Don grin knowingly but let his explanation lie, going back to their plans as they make their way into Don's lab. Raph pushes himself up with a grunt and, with a surprising gentleness, hoists a still giggling Mikey off the floor.

"A'right, doofus. Let's go. Anyone asks, we're out searchin' for parts for my bike. You ain't tellin' no one that I'm helpin' you look for some stupid cat. Capisce?"

Mikey nods as he giggles his last, wiping his eyes of old tears. "Okay, Raph. Thanks. I won't tell anyone you're a big old softie."

"Shut it, knucklehead, or this is the last time I help you."

Sometimes, Raph's threats are so empty, they couldn't fool a soul.

Raphael, the Rebel.

It's no secret that Raph despises being told what to do. Even his enemies could have told you this about him. His headstrong nature is why he and his elder brother clash so often, and so fiercely. Raph hates obeying orders he disagrees with, hates the insinuation that he's incapable of looking after himself, and hates when he isn't trusted to make his own decisions. He doesn't need his steps guided, or any help with figuring out what's right and what's wrong.

Except for when he's reminded exactly why, in some moments, he does.

With Leo gone, worlds away as he trains in solitary for months that have crept into a year, Raph has tasted freedom like never before. Fearless isn't here breathing down his neck, barking orders, or berating Raph's every decision. As the Nightwatcher, Raph is free to roam the nights alone, doing as he pleases, handling things his very own way. He calls the shots for once, because finally, he answers to no one.

Just like he's always wanted.

Right?

Raph killed his first man, tonight.

Had the guy deserved to die? Yes. Probably. Raph thinks so, anyway. But how can he know, for sure? The guy was so young, not much older than Raph. He'd been beating an elderly man to near death when Raph had intervened. The guy had a fiery temper to rival Raph's and was egged on nearly as easily- in turn Raph had been relentless, allowing the man's taunts to fuel his rage, deciding against reigning in his temper, this time. The two of them had been an explosive combination on this night, and Raph knows he'd really had no choice; the guy was ruthless and had been aiming to kill.

Raph's grip finally releases the man, who unceremoniously hits the pavement, cold and dead. The silence that greets Raphael nearly throws him off balance; for a moment he fully expects to hear Leo's voice from over his shoulder, telling him... well, something. But there's no Leo here, telling him that this was right, that this was wrong- no Leo, at all.

In this moment, loneliness strikes him like it's never done before. Hesitantly he thinks of his brother, as he's done his best to avoid doing lately. He thinks of Leo, worlds away, hacking through vines that attempt to entangle him, and keep him in the jungle forever. Maybe they've succeeded- he's been away for longer than he said he'd be. Raph wonders if Leo has ever had to kill, too, at some point.

He'd never, ever thought anything could grind on his nerves more than Leo's nagging, but right now, this silence is unbearable. Suddenly he screams, if only to break the silence, because it's infuriating him- he rants and he raves and he yells himself hoarse. He flings his sai as if they've just burned his hands; they skid across the pavement, leaving thin, streaky marks of red in their wake. He watches them until they rattle to a stop, his breath ragged and uneven.

"The one time, the one goddamn time I'd do anythin' to hear what you've got to say, and you're not here!"

It's ironic, really.

Ungracefully he whips around to strike at the wall with a roar. "You're not here for me, Leo, dammit!" His shouts become choked as he fights frustrated tears. "Dammit!" He falls back to sit on his knees, a fist still planted into the wall while the rest of him begins to shake. He pointedly avoids looking over at the man he's not so sure he should have killed.

Sometimes, Raph needs a bit of guidance, even if it's in the irritating form of his suffocating big brother, and he knows it. It's moments such as this where he finds himself just a little lost without it.

Raphael, the Sullen.

Raph is a hothead. He is prone to his violent fits of rage, mood swings, and phases of broodiness. It's not often that Raph simply feels at peace; he feels things too deeply, and too many things tend to anger him, all to varying degrees. His brothers (each irritating in their own special ways), morons, bugs. Their enemies, injustice, people who hurt kids, anyone who preys on the weak... and did he mention, bugs.

The fact that his family won't ever have more. That the world rejects them, no matter how much good they bring to it. Yes, this angers Raph immensely. Unlike Don or Leo, Raph can't find it in him to accept this so easily. The world hates them and, sometimes, he can't help but hate it right back. He wants more than what they get. Sometimes he wants more, in general.

Except for when he doesn't.

It's not even a special night, not in any sort of way. It's the kind that has happened countless times before, will happen again, and is easily forgotten, over time. He's lazily slouched across the armchair, waiting for his brothers to finish packing for their trip up to the farmhouse. Raph has never had to pack as much as the rest of his siblings. He's too lazy to find the remote and knows they'll be leaving soon enough, and so he settles for watching what's already on TV- the news.

There's nothing special about this, either- the stories are all the likes of which he's heard before. Nonetheless, he finds his eyes glued to the screen. A teenage boy has been killed protecting his girlfriend during a mugging. A husband who, after the umpteenth quarrel with his wife, has attempted to end her life. The children are witnesses and have been taken from said unstable couple, separated, their lives changed forever. A cop, a young man with a kind face, has been killed on active duty- he was a father to three small boys, who are all standing by his memorial.

Again, each of these stories are unnerving, but they're nothing Raph hasn't seen before. They live under New York City, after all; up close and personal, he's seen just how screwed up the world can be up. Nonetheless, tonight these stories linger in his mind even after they leave the screen. He watches blankly as the program turns to other matters.

Don appears from behind, tapping his shoulder and snapping him out of his thoughts, going off a 'trip checklist' that, of course, Leo has made. Raph nods in affirmation that he's got everything off of said list with, surprisingly, no remark against Leo's mother-henning.

The sun is setting by the time they're off on the road. The car ride is a peaceful one. Donnie's at the wheel, a mug of coffee placed next to him to prepare him for the long night ahead- he's never needed much sleep, so he insists. Splinter is beside him in the passenger seat, and Leo is leaning behind them both, each hand gripping the backs of their chairs as he chats with them quietly.

Raph listens in as they talk; their voices are muffled from where he sits in the back, with the soft roar of the engine and the occasional bump in the road. He listens as they chat about things random and mundane, like the directions or objects they pass by. Sometimes they joke with soft, tired laughter, and other times they are simply silent, wrapped up in their own thoughts as they watch the road ahead. Mikey is sprawled out in the back playing his gameboy, chatting animatedly to whoever might be willing to listen. Raph does. Well, tries to for a bit, anyway. Mike can be a difficult one to follow for too long.

Tonight, he doesn't protest needlessly against Leo. He doesn't mock Don for his 'techno-speak', or yell at Mikey to stop his incessant chattering- tonight, actually, he feels washed over with rare peace as he plays 'observer', content to sit back and watch the little interactions he usually pays no mind, the ones he is so intimately familiar with. As the sky outside darkens he leans his head on the cool glass window, smirking as he overhears Donnie being sarcastic with Leo.

There is a lot for Raph to be angry for but, contrary to popular belief, he knows he's got it pretty good. He's happy with what he has. His family may be secluded from the rest of the world, they may be a little dysfunctional at times, and they may grind on his every last nerve; they are alone, but they are a team, and unlike so many other families he has seen, they aren't broken. In them, he has enough. And he loves them, each of them, with a fierceness he's never known.

And, when it really comes down to it, Raph wouldn't trade what he does have for anything.

Not for the world.