lucetilogs | I'll be fine, I swear

Entry tags:

I'll be fine, I swear

Who: [Bad username or site: gaijin_ninja title=Raphael @ livejournal.com] and [Bad username or site: i_speak_softly title=Donatello @ livejournal.com]
What: Brotherly weekend camping trip
When: Backdated to early this morning
Where: Near the western lake
Summary: Raph and Don take a much-needed break from civilization to regroup and recover from recent losses.
Rating: T

For the first time in weeks, Raph's actually excited to start the day. They'd done all their packing the night before, told Casey all about their plans in case someone started asking after them, and headed out for the west lake at the break of dawn.

The morning was warm, but not unbearably so compared to the heatwave the rising sun was sure to bring. Luckily they'd be traveling by the shade of the forest through the worst of it, and reach a suitable campsite by the cool relief of sundown.

Now Raph would never call himself anything but city-bred. He loves the noise and clamber of the streets far more than what's good for him. But walking through the dappled shade to the sound of summer breeze and birdsong is something he's learned to appreciate.

Quiet. God, he just needed quiet. Give him some time to get away from prying people and just relax for once.

He closes his eyes, shifts his pack, and sighs, sending another watchful look to his brother following not far behind.

"Reminds you of Northampton, don't it?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Raph...says nothing, just stares at the fire and finishes what's on his plate. He can't really console Don, tell him it wasn't his fault and it'll be okay. Because it was his fault, and things will most definitely not be his flavor of okay for a long time ahead. He can just feel it.

"Whatever."

The word makes him sick to his stomach. The whole situation makes him sick. The only thing he can think to do is distract himself by getting up and grabbing his bedroll. He'll get to the dishes in the morning. For now all he wants to do is sleep.

With Raph so clearly done talking for the night, there's nothing left for Don to do but bank up the fire and dump the food scraps outside the campsite, a small offering to any scavenging animals.

Then, with a quiet "I won't be far", he sets off around the lake to find a place to sit and work on a private project of his own.

As determined as he was to sleep hours ago, Raph finds himself slipping back to consciousness well before dawn. He rolls over under his blanket once, again, before finally opening his eyes to the cool starry sky peaking through the shadows of leafy branches.

His head aches with exhaustion that presses behind his eyes and makes his vision blurry. But his bones are restless and his mind is racing. It flips through everything in rewind, fast forward, lingering in places he can't break away. Old and new, arguments long gone and good times. Then the present, where everything changes, shifts out of place disjointed from the other pieces. Nothing seems to fit.

Then there's that loneliness again, swimming over him in waves. He breathes once, twice, but it stabs at his gut with a hot poker. His brothers are gone. Left him. Gone. And all that's left hurts like it's twisting him. Wringing him dry.

He breathes again, slow, controlled, but the next one comes in a gasp that rakes at his throat and stings his eyes. All he can do is curl on his side and stare into the darkness, haunted by the feeling that it's staring right back.

After a long meditation session, Don comes back to the campsite, lays down, and sleeps better than he has in a long time.

Somewhere between midnight and morning (he would know when, at home, but these strange stars -) he wakes. Raph is shifting restlessly, obviously awake.

Don shifts too, purposely making just enough noise that Raph will know he's awake too, but not so much that they can't both pretend they haven't noticed anything.

Raph sits up, still on the edge of sleep and waking, but his mind unwilling to choose between either. He rubs at his eyes, half-holding his head.

Don's stirring catches his attention, and he rumbles, voice low, half murmur, half growl. "You up?"

Part of him finds this a gross invasion of his privacy. Another part of him is glad he's here.

"I'm up," Don confirms. And he just leaves it at that, letting Raph decide whether the conversation will go any further.

He takes his hand away, leaning forward, resting his arms across his knees. His voice is husky, rough like gravel in his throat. "Was thinkin' about something."

Don rolls over onto his stomach, resting his head on his folded arms. "Mm?"

"Mikey left after they took him. Leo did the same." There's a pause, and he shifts uncomfortably under its weight. "And they took you."

Don's fingers twitch, following Raph's logic. He's right. "Shell."

Raph's head bows, eyes closed tight, hands in fists. He's slowly losing control of his breathing, shuddering and catching in his throat, trembling with his shoulders. He walking on the edge between depression and hideous, unbridled rage. It will only take a striking breeze to make him stumble.

"What'm I supposed to do?

Don crawls out of his blankets and moves to sit next to Raph, putting his arms around his brother's shoulders, holding him still, holding him back from whatever chasm he's falling into. "Lots of people have been kidnapped and then not been sent home. It doesn't mean anything."

Every muscle is tense under Don's embrace, wound like a chord. He heaves for another breath, and it shakes his every molecule. "I hate this place," he seethes through his teeth. Fire erupts in his stomach. "I fucking hate this place."

There's nothing he can say. There's nothing he can do. Raph is at the breaking point, and Don is powerless to stop him from snapping.

"It's been six months for you, hasn't it."

An angry howl escapes him. His head is reeling. Tunnel vision. But Don's still there, anchoring him. He wants to hurt something, destroy something so bad. But out here there's no one to hurt but himself and his brother, and there's nothing within reach to destroy.

He brings his fist down hard on his own thigh. It releases so little of what's burning inside him it hurts.

"The hell am I supposed to do!?"

He leans forward, head in his hands again, and growls something feral.

"I can't keep doin' this. I can't."

Don shifts with Raph, not letting him go. It feels like Raph will explode if Don doesn't hold him together.

"You can, Raph. You can. Show them you don't break that easily."

"I ain't breakin'." He steels himself with a sharp inhale, a stubborn set of his jaw. He fights the urge to shove Don off of him. No, he's not breaking. He's fighting. Fighting the only way he can, by getting freakin' pissed.

"I'll break their fuckin' jaws," he spits, with hellfire in every word. "Cowards."

Don takes the hint and disentangles himself from his brother's shoulders. That's his Raph. That's his stubborn Raph, who would take on any hero or villain in Luceti, even without magic powers and invincibility.

He stands up. "Come on."

He's taken aback when Don stands, suddenly disoriented as he's pulled from his own little angry world. He gets ready to follow him, but stops for a moment, eying him critically. "Where you goin'?"

"Not back to sleep, that's for sure." He takes a step towards the hill. "I think there was something you wanted me to do."

Raph doesn't want to grin. He doesn't feel like grinning. But that does earn Don a crooked, broken sort of smile.

He gets up, thumping his brother soundly on the shell. "Let's do it."

Then he takes off running toward the cliff, running for the sake of running, into a more familiar dark. The leap is like jumping rooftops. The moonlight reflects like a million plate glass windows. A slice of home.

It's not perfect, still jagged around the edges, but home all the same.

He hits the water and it takes his breath away. Oh, sweet distractions.

Don hits the water half a second after Raph, plunging into the silver and black.

It feels good, and he can tell Raph is enjoying it too, finding a little light in a place that has been so dark for him.

He surfaces slowly, and eases towards the rocks. He needs to do that again.

Raph surfaces, backstroking away from the cliff's edge. In the dark, it's a towering mountain of shadow, looking far more formidable than it was in the daylight. But that just makes it more fun.

"I told ya," he crows as Don climbs up the rocks by the shoreline. "That's good stuff!"

Don sniffs derisively. "That wasn't good stuff. This is good stuff."

And, reaching the top of the rocks, he does a back somersault off the edge.

"Oh yeah, hotshot?" He calls once Don surfaces. He's already scrambling for the rocks as fast as he can, a devilish grin on his face that all brothers know spells the universal language of start running now.

Fancy moves may not be Raph's forte, but he sure as hell knows how to make a splash. He cannonballs dangerously close to where Don's swimming.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject