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(no subject)

Who:

thesevencodes
What: Training. For real.
When: Mike gets sent home. Don does some really unimpressive solo training, spends a night guarding Polka, and eventually gets his head back together. Then this happens.
Where: Starting outside C6, and probably ending up elsewhere.
Summary: Don apologizes to Raph for being a jerk in the best way he knows how: by giving Raph permission to abuse him until he becomes an acceptably competent ninja again.
Rating: PG-13
Where has Don been for the past week? Why, making a new bo staff. Crafting the simple weapon doesn't involve slaving for hours over a hot forge in the smithy - rather, he's been out in the woods, using the peace and quiet, the meditative carving of wood, to get his head back together.

He needs to train. He's been doing some work this week, out in the woods, and he's managed to bring himself back to a level that wouldn't make his father cry in embarrassment. (Shake his head sadly, yes - but at least he wouldn't be asking the ancestors how he got such lazy, undisciplined sons.)

Now, though, he needs help. He needs someone on a higher level, who can beat him back into shape, and then beat him into a better shape than he's ever been in before.

Fortunately, he knows such a person. And he knows that the individual in question will be all too willing to do it.

He prods the journal open with his toe. "Raph - come meet me behind the building. ... And don't panic. It's good news."

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Caught with both legs in the air, Don uses the momentum from his kick to pull over into a backflip. Once he's on his feet again, he'll raise his hands to defend himself from the retribution he knows is coming.

But it is on. Raph's not gonna play so nice anymore. In fact, he's tired of continuously taking the defensive. So he plants his feet into the soft dirt and launches himself at his brother. First he feigns right, then dodges left, moving to tackle Don to the ground.

Dodge left. Strike right. Try not to hit your head when your brother slams you to the ground.

It's all familiar, and the rhythm is coming back to him.

He struggles, but he has no leverage at all now, so after a reasonable length of time he just goes limp.

"Okay. You win. Let me up."

Victory! Suddenly Raph is very, very happy with himself. Sure the attack was a little unorthodox, but he's a ninja for cripes sake. He can do what he wants.

Rough-but-effective as usual.

He stares down at his brother for a moment, grinning wickedly. "Oh yeah, and why should I?"

Then he snorts and rolls his eyes, getting up anyways. "Nah, just kiddin'. Get off your shell."

He offers his brother a hand up.

And the same hands that were just giving him bruises he'll be nursing for a week, are helping him back to his feet.

"Take a break?"

He could use a short rest. And maybe they'll get back around to the subject of why Don being from earlier in the timeline makes Raph want to spar without weapons.

"Yeah, sure." He's surprised to notice he's a bit out of breath and his pulse is pounding in his ears. It's been too much booze, too little training these last few weeks, and it's starting to come back to bite him in the ass.

He walks over to the tree where he'd leaned his bo and collapses into the sitting position in the cool dirt, leaning his shell against the rough bark.

Sighing deeply, he vows to himself to cut back.

Don drops to the ground by another tree, stretching out his leg to inspect his thigh where Raph hit him in their first exchange.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it."

Casual. Vague. He'll see where it leads.

"Gets boring trainin' on my own. Glad you came to your senses."

Even if you are rusty as hell, it was a good match. Really.

"You don't train with Leo? ... Or anyone else? I'm surprised you don't have a dozen new sparring partners."

"You know me." He shrugs. "I spend a lot of time on my own."

Read: He's not saying he likes being alone. Just that it happens.

He rubs his leg - slow, deep pressure. More for something to do with his hands than anything else.

"I hardly see you guys anymore. I don't know where you go all day..." Okay, maybe with Raph that's nothing new. "I feel like I didn't know any of Mike's friends..."

Raph doesn't answer, just looks away, silently working his jaw.

He was finally starting to feel better about all of this. Why do they have to talk about it?

"I'm glad we had this chance," he says slowly. "To meet more people. But I'm not sure it's good for us... to be apart so much."

Read: Don't turn to alcohol when you're hurting, Raph. Turn to your family.

Raph gets up, keeping his back turned to Don. No, he's not ready to be thinking of shit like this now. Not yet. Why can't they just have fun and forget about it?

It was a good day. The best he's had in a while, and he's not ready to ruin that.

Something in his gut burns, and he tightens his fists against it. He doesn't understand it yet, but part of it feels like shame.

"Raph?" Come on, bro. If not now, when? "Talk to me."

"I..." The words are tight, spoken through his teeth. "Don't want to."

Further proof of the Inverse Raphael Rule: Generally speaking, the less Raph wants to do something, the more he should do it.

Don folds his legs and traces his finger in the dirt, a squiggly line that will probably become an esoteric sketch that makes sense to only him.

"What do you want?"

A simple question that often provokes Raph into sharing at least the broad outlines of what's bothering him. Or, if not that, he might name some actions he intends to take, and give Don a heads-up of what's coming.

He doesn't move, and his voice is still sharp and angry. "You damn well know what I want."

"Raph, I never know what you want."

Mostly a lie, but he likes to have corroborating evidence for his inferences, and this is a good way to get it.

"Name the top three."

He reels back to face his brother, a flair of rage burning through his chest. "That's bullshit!"

His expression tightens as another emotion comes to meet it. Frustration. He knows what he wants, but at the same time he has no fucking idea. He knows that Don gets it. He has to. But now he's not so sure.

And the last bit, that just feels like betrayal.

"Do I gotta spell it out for you? Seriously? Where the hell have you been the last few weeks? Rotting away in your room just like Leo.

Well I say fuck you guys. Fuck. You."

Then he turns on his heels and starts heading deeper into the forest. He doesn't need to talk. He doesn't need anybody.

Crud. Sometimes playing stupid was exactly the wrong way to get Raph to talk.

"Raph -" Don rolls to his feet and goes after his brother. "Raph, wait. I'm sorry." He catches up, and puts a hand on Raph's shoulder. "You're right; I do know. I'm thinking about the same things. And it's ridiculous, for us to have the same problems, and to worry about them separately, instead of dealing with them together. But you need to give me a starting point, so we can talk about it."

He watches Raph's stormy face carefully. "Please? Don't do this alone, Raph."

Don't make ME do this alone.

He tenses as his Don approaches, but stops his retreat with the weight of his hand on his shoulder. Raph turns his head, but doesn't turn around, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. "Then quit actin' like I'm stupid."

Then he sighs, and gives into the desperation in his brother's voice, turning to face him. His own voice has lost its biting edge. All that's left is resigned frustration. "What do you want me to say?"

His hand slips off Raph's shoulder when he turns around, and they just stand there, facing each other.

"I'm sorry. You're not stupid. You just... get overwhelmed."

He sidesteps to lean back against a tree, and looks up through the branches at the sky.

"Where do you want to start, Raph? Mikey? The timeline? Being trapped here?" He lowers his eyes to look at his brother. "Something else I don't know about?"

And Raph's eyes move to the ground. "I don't know."

He pauses for a beat, kicks half-heartedly at the blanket of leaves covering the forest floor. To him it's all the same, each subject congealed into a uniform evil that is the dark places of his mind. All of it hurts, and all of them are things he can't do a thing about. So he swallows it.

"It's...better not to think about it."

Which is an odd thing for him to say in its own right. Raph constantly thinks about everything. No, even worse, he dwells on it, turning things over in his head until it twits and distorts, leaving him to make his own warped conclusions.

But when he drinks, he can forget. He can numb the constant barrage of the shit-storm that is his brain. And to him, that makes sense. It all makes perfect sense in a way that's completely and utterly nonsensical.

Edited 2010-04-18 22:07 (UTC)

"So what are you going to do? Just keep drinking and getting into fights?"

Don doesn't know the answers, doesn't even know all the problems, but he does know that there has to be a better way.

"It's not a solution, Raph. It's not helping anybody." He pauses, measuring his next words before he says them. "I really don't know what you're thinking, when you act like that."