R is for Recalcitrant

A little Raphael fic based off the new movie. Does contain a teeny bit of spoiler-y-ness, but nothing huge.
RATED T for a swear.

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R is for Recalcitrant

Fingers stretching, limbs extended, reaching, reaching.  Time slows.  Her terrified face stares up at him, eyes wide and pleading.

Save me.

Catch me.

Don’t let me fall.

Raphael isn’t good at much, doesn’t have too many redeeming qualities.  He knows this.  He’s caustic and mean.  Pushes his brothers as far from him as possible while still living with them as a family unit.  He’s indecent and rude.  He’s stubborn and willful.  He’s not smart like Donnie, figuring out how to read books before Raph could spell his name correctly.  Not clever like Leo, mastering every new kata Splinter presents to them, no matter how complicated.  He ain’t charming like Mikey can be when he pours it on, getting Splinter to agree to almost any request once he bats those big baby blues.  No.  That ain’t him.  None of it is.  He knows how they see him.  The muscle.  He’s strong, sure.  But big, though.  Bulky.  Beneath the pride in his strength lies the disgust.  The secret self-loathing.  Of the group of outcasts, he, of course had to be the biggest freak.  Just his luck.

He never felt it more than when she looked at him like that.  On the roof.  Her eyes pouring over him foot to head, taking him in.  Yeah, he saw it.  Clear as day.  That look that said:  Freak!  Monster!  Turning his stomach and making him want to bash his fists through a wall.  It was all he could do to keep his cool.  If Leo hadn’t busted in with his bossy-ass, he might’ve done something he would’ve regretted.

He doesn’t regret leaping.  Springing off the edge of the metal girding of the tower the second he hears her scream.  His heart is in his throat and his aching body creaks and snaps as Leo’s hand grips his ankle.  He’s anchored.  Leo planned as he leapt, while Raph only acted without thinking, as usual.  But it’s okay.  Big brother’s got him.  Always does. 

Time resumes its natural tempo as Raphael whips his arm down, taunt tendons pulled out to their limit, stretching a little further to make it.  Cuz he ain’t gonna let her fall.  He ain’t.

He snatches her wrist like a prize.  Grips it tight.  He’s got her.  He . . . He’s got her!  His own shock reverberates through him like a physical thing and he almost laughs.  Chokes it back.  Stares down into her wide eyes.

There’s the relief.  The gratitude in her expression, now, but also the pulsing fright.  Shivering up through her body like an invisible wave, electrifying his own amped-up emotions.  His throat tightens.  He wants to tell her not to worry.  To tell her nothin’ bad is gonna happen now.  Now that he’s got her, but his throat catches on all the words, jangling them up and leaving them to dangle ridiculously, much like his free arm and leg.  He was never good at ‘talking his feelings’ as Master Splinter always insisted, but more than that, the Shredder is out there in the corner of his vision.

As much as he wants to tell her it’ll be okay.  It ain’t over yet. 

His busted shell is aching in sharp stabbing shards.  His body, bruised and throbbing, joints screaming from the tension of hanging there, his brother’s sweating grip like a strangling noose around his numb foot, wants to give out.  He’s hurting; bad.  Everything sending signals to his brain to give it up.  This strain on his body can’t continue for much longer. 

But there’s no way he’s gonna let go.  No fucking way.

“I got you,” he snarls through the pain, over the weakness of his quaking body.  He means it.

Master Splinter has said aloud and often that he’s his most stubborn child.  Willful, even.  Yeah, he knows it’s true.  But he also thinks, sometimes, every once in a while, it’s a good quality to have.  Even if it’s his only one.