Autumn

The days became shorter and the green in the trees slowly turned red and yellow, but still the air was warm on the streets and the fields of Northhampton. Only here in the shadow of the old woods, with the wind rushing through the leaves, the lonely traveler shivered now and then. Whether it was the trees blocking the mild september sun or his task that made him feel cold, he could not tell. Not that it was important. The sun stood low already, its reddish light flowing between the trunks issuing in the small clearance like a rivulet in a lake.

Raphael sighed lightly at the familiar sight: The light of a dying day, illuminating three simple stones that guarded the ashes of three warriors. And a lone figure staring at them, his back turned towards Raphael, a pair of goggles sitting useless on his head, the old purple mask tied to his bo staff, fluttering in the wind.

“Hey,” Raphael said.

“Hey,” came the answer without hesitation and without a startled gasp. Whether his brother had heard him or just expected him, Raphael did not know and it did not matter.

“It’s been a while.” Stepping closer, Raphael noticed that Donatello had lost weight, not yet a reason to worry, but notably.

“Yes,” Donatello nodded. “I am sorry, I was not here for Mikey’s birthday. I really tried.”

They had agreed to come here on the fallen’s birthdays, not the days of their deaths. This was a more pleasant thing to remember and that way Leonardo and Michelangelo each had their own memorial day, instead of sharing one.

“’tis alright.” Raphael waved his hand dismissively. “Yer leg’s better now?”

“Yes, no permanent damage done.” Donatello chuckled without humor.

“How’d that happen?”

“Let’s say I was very focused on something and have yet to get rid of my bad habit of letting metal spare parts lie around.”

“Ouch!”

“Yes,” Don nodded and smiled lightly. “But hey, Mikey is the most likely to forgive me, right?”

“Starting ta believe in the afterlife, Mister Rational?” Raphael had not meant to sound spiteful, but his words came out harsh and for a moment the turtle next to him fell silent.

“One can hope,” he finally whispered.

Raphael only nodded, ignoring the unshed tears in Donatello's eyes. What could he say?

“Let it out!”, “Talk about your feelings!”, “Don’t deal with it alone!”

Yeah, no way Raphael of all people could say any of this without sounding like a hypocrite.

Ironic. Here they stood. The brains and the brawns of the broken team. Nothing in common, except an interest in mechanics and the inability to deal with their feelings and weaknesses. Ironic, not funny.

Raphael after all this years could not wrap his head around the fact that he stood here next to Donatello.

Of course it was not surprising that Donatello would outlive the rest of the family. He was least likely to get killed because of his own stupidity or an enemy being smarter. Because he was, well, extremely smart. His decisions were never reckless, rash or dumb, he thought before he acted. Pretty effective against getting killed.

Splinter’s death had hit them all hard naturally. But in the end it was to be expected and in general hoped that parents died before their children. And so they had always been prepared to bury their father one day.

While Mikey’s passing had been a shock Raphael had yet to recover from, he had to admit that the youngest finally falling victim to this cruel world was not as absurd as it was painful. Michelangelo, as smart and capable as he had been, had in the end proven to be too trusting, too selfless, too pure for this dark, ugly and stinking place that life was.

And Leonardo? It was fitting for him to die, protecting those he loved, even though it was futile in Mikey’s case. No, it was not weird at all that he would die a hero, saving good guys, taking down bad guys in his last moments.

The only surprise was Raphael standing here. By the laws of average he should have been dead long ago. Slave to his emotions, he more often than not left rhyme and reason behind and rushed into deadly situations, the consequences be damned. And yet, fate had only taken his left eye.

That day, he had jumped the first enemy he saw after the ambush had become obvious, leaving Mikey exposed and Leo as his only defense.

It was not fair. Not to Mikey. Not to Leo. And not to Donnie.

Both his fallen brothers would have known what to do. Michelangelo would have gotten Donatello to open up and soothed him. Leonardo with his mere presence would have offered comfort and given hope for another dawn to break. But what did the poor nerd get? A stupid hothead who could not be a worthy brother if his life depended on it.

“I am sorry,” Donatello suddenly broke the silence and immediately after pressed his lips together. Tears now slowly sneaked into the corner of his eyes.

“Fer what? Accidents happen. And ya couldn’t travel with the injury,” Raphael assured him but Donatello shook his head, signaling that he was not referring to missing their last meeting.

“You shouldn’t be waiting for me here,” Donatello stated. “It should be my burnt remains under that stones.”

“Whatcha talkin’ about, brainiac?” Raphael growled. “Got a death wish? Admit it now so I can beat it outta ya.”

“Colorful, Raph,” Donatello deadpanned. “But no, I do not wish to die. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I… that day, when they… The ambush. I hesitated. I was overthinking. Of course I was,” Donatello hissed, his self-hatred audible. “If I would have been faster, I could have been between Mikey and that blade, before…”

“Then you’d be dead now, genius,” Raphael told him.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Sighing, Donatello sat down in the grass cross-legged, tears falling freely now. “But I didn’t even try. Even if I had died that day, maybe it could have saved Mikey and Leo or at least one of them. Instead you’re stuck with me. Mikey could cheer you up, you two always were close. Leo would know what to do and you two had so much in common despite your fights. But what do you get? A stupid nerd who can barely deal with his own feelings, let alone your pain. The times when you and me had things to talk about are long gone. I am sorry that you’re stuck with me, not one of them.”

For a moment Raphael stared at his fellow middle brother, dumbfounded. Donatello’s outburst had caught him by surprise, but it did not take long for the shock to be pushed aside by anger. Furiously, he grabbed Donatello’s shoulders, roughly digging into the flesh, and pulled him to his feet again. As soon as the startled Donatello stood in front of him, Raphael slapped him. Hard.

“What…” More shocked than mad, Donatello looked at his brother with wide eyes, but Raphael did not give him a chance to speak further.

“Dontcha ever say bullshit like that again!” he roared. “How dare ya say that in mah presence? How dare ya declare my brother unworthy of living when I stand right here?”

Leaving red prints on the green shoulders, he shook Donatello while Donatello only stared at him. Looking into the shocked brown eyes, Raphael started to realize that Donatello’s words were not too far from his own thoughts. He, too, wished for his brother to be in better hands than his. And if a fairy, a timelord or whoever came by, offering to return Mikey or Leo in exchange for Raphael’s life, he would shake on that deal faster than lightning.

“S…sorry.” Donatello found his ability to speak again. “I did not mean to upset you. I just feel very useless. I know that you are suffering and I am no help. It’s…”

“’M sorry, too, genius!” Raphael hurried to say. “I overreacted. Shouldn’t have hit ya.”

“Hey, overreacting and hitting - that’s what you do,” Donatello tried to joke and Raphael could not help a short chuckle.

“Ya got a point,” Raphael said and then fell silent and tried to collect his thoughts and find the right words. Something he was not very good at. So it took some time, but by some miracle the brainiac kept his mouth shut as well.

“Look,” Raphael carefully started to express himself. “I admit that it might be easier fer me ta find somethin’ ta talk about with Mikey. The jokester was good at startin’ talks about anything – as ya know. He soon woulda broken the ice so ta speak. And yes, even Leo and me woulda found something ta talk about.”

“You’d probably both be yelling by now,” Donatello laughed.

“Yeah, Fearless woulda had the courtesy ta hit me back,” Raphael quipped. “I mean, I give ya the perfect bitch slap and ya just stare at me. Just plain rude, genius.”

They both snickered and Raphael was a little more relaxed when he continued.

“Just because I had more in common with them than with ya, they didn’t mean more ta me than ya. I…” He gulped before continuing in a softer voice. “I love ya just as much as I love them. Never, please, never doubt that, genius. Understood?”

Donatello smiled.

“Understood,” He nodded and added softly, “I love you, too.”

“Yer such a sap, brainiac!”

“Hey, you said that first!”

“Yer hearing things! Sure ya need them goggles and not a hearing aid?”

“But you…”

“Ya know, I don’t say cheesy bullshit like that!”

“You are incredible.”

“Why, thank ya!”

Good naturedly, Raphael slapped Donatello’s carapace and the silence that grew between them now was lighter and companionable. They sat quietly in the grass next to each other, thinking of their loved ones. And for the first time in a long while there was acceptance laying underneath the grief.

The sun was slowly sinking and as Raphael saw that a shiver went through Donatello’s body he got up and offered his brother a hand.

“It’s getting’ cold. Let’s go!”

Smiling, Donatello accepted his help and got to his feet as well. They bid goodbye to Splinter, Leonardo and Mikey. And this time it did not feel so wrong when Raphael put his hand on the stone on the left and said “Happy birthday, Fearless.”

It was not until they reached the old farmhouse that Raphael noticed that he had never let go off Donatello’s hand.

*

These days the farmhouse was not as comfortable as it used to be. The two turtles had huddled together in the living room where Donatello had managed to make use of the fireplace. The heater had stopped working years ago. Both their backs were not agreeing with them as they prepared to return to their respective homes. They did not have much luggage however and soon were both ready to go. Raphael had come by train, but Donatello was about to get in his car.

“See you in March?” Donatello asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Raphael nodded. But thinking about his brother’s words, he realized that this was in five months. Way too much time for dark thoughts to spread in both their minds. So he called out, “Donnie! Wait!”

“Something wrong?”

“The farmhouse is in a pretty bad shape, huh?”

“Yes,” Donatello sighed and Raphael saw the glint of nostalgia shimmering in Donatello's brown eyes. And he understood it pretty well. They had spent so many wonderful weeks, even months here. But Casey was dead, April still missing and Shadow… was Shadow. Nobody took care of the old building.

“It did not look much better when we came here fer the first time,” Raphael grinned. “But ya fixed it up in no time.”

“Well, it took some time,” Donatello remembered and, with a fond smile towards Raphael, he added, “And I had help.”

“We made a good team.”

“We did.”

“Well, genius, ya got any super important projects at home?”

“Not really.”

“Sooo,” Raphael said. “How about ya and me prolong this little visit and make sure that house is inhabitable the next time we need it?”

“Raph, we both only have a small backpack with us,” Donatello reasoned. “I don’t have the tools needed for that task and we need to eat.”

“I can get us stuff in Northhampton,” Raphael said. “And I know something about hunting.”

“You’re really serious, hm?” Donatello asked.

“Yeah, I am,” Raphael nodded. “I’ll make sure ya have the tools ya need and will neither starve nor freeze ta death nor stumble over metal spare parts and ya repair that old house. Deal?”

Donatello narrowed his eyes, the gears in his head undoubtedly turning. But finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Raphael, he smiled softly.

“Deal,” he answered and again took the hand his brother offered.

The End