Chapter Text
It was supposed to be a regular patrol.
Raphael and his brothers had split up as usual, with Raph tag-teaming Donatello this time around. While Leonardo and Michelangelo had gone to investigate the southern half of the city, Raph and Donnie remained up north after overhearing an unusual burglary attempt via their intercepted police radio. But as they leaped across the city rooftops with the grace and agility that years of training provided them, Raph had an odd feeling that something was wrong.
His worries only grew as soon as they had arrived at the supposed location of the crime.
Something felt… off.
The ‘jewelry store’ that was mentioned had been long abandoned, and looked as though it had been collecting dust for years. There was nothing of value to steal. Raph had told Donnie that he wasn’t sure about this, and Donnie had agreed that this was an unusual spot for a burglary to occur. Still, they decided to investigate just a little bit more.
As soon as Donnie had opened the rotting back door to the employee’s room, gunshots rang out.
Neither of them had time to focus on anything other than their own safety, and Raph soon lost sight of his brother in the fray. They had stumbled upon yet another mutant crime ring, but this time they were completely unprepared. Raph was more than confident in Donnie’s abilities to fend for himself, especially since his brother specialized in longer-ranged attacks.
However as a close-combat fighter, Raph already knew he was at a serious disadvantage. Thankfully, his scales and shell allowed nearly every bullet that came his way to ricochet off and leave him with light scrapes and scratches instead.
He only heard Donnie’s voice for a moment between the blasts, letting him know he was making the decision to retreat. Soon after, the sound of a jet-pack and another smashed window met his ears.
Raph belted yet another enemy in the face, before grabbing their weapon and knocking them across the back of their head with it. Just as he made it to the back window and rammed his fist through to exit, he heard another bang.
His chest felt... warm?
Raph looked down.
A bullet had pierced right through his carapace, exiting through his plastron and destroying his transmitter. Thick blood began to pour out of the wound, covering his front in a nauseatingly dark red.
How?
Did they have a strengthened bullet? Was it mystical?
Raph didn’t have the time to theorize. With a roar, he twisted around and slammed his fist into the mutant that had shot him. The smaller criminal flew back, smacking into the back wall of the small store unit with a loud crash. Before the remaining gang members could reload, Raph leaped through the broken back window and ran as fast as he possibly could.
His chest was starting to burn.
Raph desperately grasped at the transmitter, hoping the emergency signal was still operational.
The light wouldn’t turn on.
He ran through the winding back alleyways until his legs gave out. Raph didn’t understand. At the very least, he should have stopped bleeding by now. Whatever he had been shot with must have been well-enhanced. With a grunt, he managed to crawl back beside an old green dumpster, hiding within the shadows it provided as best he could.
He hadn’t felt this much pain in years.
The burn in his chest was white-hot now, his vision slowly growing blurry.
He struggled with the broken transmitter one more time to no avail. It was the middle of winter, and the cold was really starting to kick in.
Raph had no idea where his brothers were, and with no signal, they wouldn’t be able to locate him either. He knew he should at least try to get up again, try to crawl down into the sewers but… he was simply too exhausted. It would be dark soon, so hopefully his meager hiding spot would suffice until he gained the strength to return to the lair. He could only pray that the temperature wouldn’t plummet to the point of brumation.
He didn’t know how long he lay beside the dumpster, fighting the urge to fall unconscious.
He held a large hand onto the wound, trying to maintain pressure, but every time he pressed he felt so nauseous he had to let go. God, there was so much blood.
He could barely open his eyes at this point. The heat of his wound had seemingly faded away, leaving him cold and somewhat numb.
Suddenly, Raph became aware of light, careful footsteps padding closer to him.
“Hello? Can you understand me?” A soft voice asked.
Raph usually tried his best not to curse, but if he had the strength he would have cursed every higher power he could possibly think of at the moment.
He had been found.
He was in danger.
“Do you need help?” The voice asked again, sounding closer than before.
Instinctively, Raph let out a deep and threatening growl. The rumble in his chest made him wince in pain.
He felt a small hand touch his face, carefully trailing the shape of his cheek then lowering to cup his jaw with warmth, causing his eyes to flutter open briefly in shock.
There was a human in front of him. Staring right at him, with worried eyes and eyebrows that were furrowed in concern.
They looked... small, though Raph wasn’t the best person to judge height. He had grown just past seven feet tall in his adult years, so technically most humans felt ‘small’ to him.
He didn’t understand how someone was standing so calmly in front of him. Raph was huge. He looked like the very definition of dangerous. He was riddled with scars and spikes and his snaggle-tooth was practically sharper than a knife.
His right eye had gone cloudy years ago, clearly damaged from a violent injury only he and his loved ones knew the cause of.
The very sight of Raph nowadays tended to terrify the few humans he had come into contact with, and he had always accepted that the only humans he would ever befriend were April, Cassandra, and Casey Jones.
So why?
Why was this human looking at him?
Why weren’t they running away?
Raph felt a panicked hiss catch in the back of his throat. He was injured, bleeding, and confused.
He felt... scared, as much as he hated to admit it.
Just before his blurry vision faded to black, he noticed the stranger in front of him was holding the handle of a red bag with some kind of white cross on it. Oh, Raph thought to himself as a small bit of relief began to overwhelm him.
Maybe, just maybe, this person would know what they were doing.
Of all the things you had been expecting to encounter on your way home from work, this wasn’t it.
The massive mutant had fallen unconscious almost as soon as you had touched him, and you took the chance to carefully pull his heavy hand away from his blood-soaked chest.
A gunshot wound?
Although his back was to the brick wall behind him, you instinctively knew the bullet had gone completely though due to the sheer amount of blood seeping out onto the floor surrounding him. Usually, you worked emergency care with much smaller and fluffier animals like dogs and cats.
But since you knew you couldn’t exactly call a regular ambulance for the giant green mutant in front of you, your experience as a veterinarian would have to do.
You worked as quickly as you could, sterilizing the chest wound and wrapping it securely. A small oval device with a strange emblem lay broken near the mutant’s hand. Without too much thought, you placed it in your bag. Surely it was important to him, if he was holding onto it even in such a desperate situation.
The bigger problem would be figuring out how to care for the wound behind him. The mutant was absolutely massive, and looked like he genuinely might weigh more than an elephant with the amount of muscle and mass adorning his body. You tentatively placed your fingers against his wrist, checking for a pulse. It was weak, but steady.
A miracle really, considering how much blood he seemed to have lost.
You took a step back, considering your options as you regarded the unconscious figure in front of you.
He kind of looked like some kind of human/frog hybrid, but the heavy spiked shell on his back and the thick scales covering his skin reminded you more of some type of turtle. You weren’t even fully sure if he spoke English at this point, though you figured he must know some form of human communication considering the black athletic pants and martial art wrappings he was adorned with.
The fact that he was a mutant in the first place wasn't too much of a surprise, outside of rarity.
It wasn't as if you didn't already know mutants existed.
It was impossible to live in New York City without being at least somewhat aware of them after the alien invasion, and the strange mosquito epidemic from a few years before that. But they stuck to the shadows, and rarely walked around until night time since too many people were prejudiced of their physical differences.
You had only met one other human mutant before, after they had desperately called you in the middle of the night to examine their gigantic cat hybrid. The mantis had been at his wits end, and showered you with gratitude after you assured him that their pet was only suffering from a stomach ache and would recover just fine. At the end of the day, mutants were living creatures just like any other and deserved the same respect.
If only more humans believed that too.
With a resigned sigh, you decided the only way to patch up the injury on his back would be to try pulling him forward and away from the wall. You tried wrapping one hand around each of his wrists, but they were simply too wide to find any purchase. Instead, you managed to wrap a hand around one large pointer finger on each hand, then tugged.
He barely budged.
Damn, you thought to yourself, before shifting your legs and trying once more. You pulled carefully, using all of your body weight to lean yourself back. Finally, gravity began to work in your favor and you watched with relief as the mutant’s upper body leaned forward to reveal his shell.
You raced to disinfect and wrap the gaping hole in his carapace. Thankfully, the flow of blood had begun to slow down as well.
Then, just as you finished bandaging his shell, a weak, low groan broke through the silence.
Raph bit back a pained grunt as he slowly regained consciousness.
Everything was spinning, and he could barely make heads or tails of where he was or what had happened.
“Hey.” The soft voice, vaguely familiar, greeted him.
He froze, internally scrambling to process the situation. Right, someone had found him just before he had blacked out... How long had he been out?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” The voice continued gently. “I patched you up as best as I could. Can you try to stand, or are you feeling woozy?”
Raph didn’t answer. Or rather, he couldn't answer.
His mind was racing, but his body felt so sluggish. He barely remembered the blurry human face he had seen before passing out, illuminated by the soft red light of the inevitable sunset. Sunset? How long had they chosen to stay with him? It was almost completely dark now, the only true light surrounding them coming from some rickety streetlamp yards away.
“Uhm… it’s okay if you don’t want to speak. Can you at least tap your finger on the ground if you understand me?”
Raph hesitated, if for only a moment, before resigning himself to tapping his finger onto the cold floor in silent agreement.
He heard a sigh of relief, and for a short moment he deliriously wondered if they were some sort of guardian angel.
A figment of his imagination, maybe.
“Could you tap once for yes, and twice for no?”
Raph tapped once, gritting his teeth. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he knew the cold was affecting him far more than it normally would have due to the blood loss.
“Are you cold?”
Raph tapped once again in agreement.
“Okay… Do you trust me?”
Raph hesitated, his finger shaking uncontrollably as he eventually tapped at the floor just once, again. It wasn't as if he had much of another choice but to trust this stranger at the moment, anyway.
For all he knew, he was already dead.
“Alright. I’m going to bring you inside, okay? I live in the building behind us. It’s warm, and you can rest. Is that okay?”
With a final tap on the floor, he felt small hands circle around his forearm and begin to tug lightly. If he had any bit of wherewithal to him, he would have jumped at the unnatural confidence they had, touching him without a single inkling of fear. The hands tugging at him were firm and steady, as if not even the abnormal cold of his scales could manage to make them shake.
With the last of his strength, Raph managed to heave himself up from the floor. Through blurry vision, he followed the shorter figure as best as he could through the biting cold of the night.
They remained patient, keeping their grip around his forearm whenever he stumbled or faltered, battling through the urge to fade back into unconsciousness.
After what felt like hours, the gentle, steady tug of hands had led him towards what looked like a large pile of blankets and pillows gathered together on the floor to lay on.
Finally, he felt warm.
Right before he felt himself passing out again, he managed to mumble a single garbled phrase out loud.
“Thank ya. Really.”