There was something impalpable about charcoal that Raphael found incredibly compelling. It was during times like these, when Raph was stuck in his room for hours on end, that he really put what little bits and pieces of charcoal he had to good use. When they were younger Raph had always made fun of Michelangelo for, everything, really, but in particular for Mikey's childish drawings and sketches. What his brothers didn't know was that Raphael himself had grown into quite an artist.

Of course, all four of them had doodled with broken and worn-down crayon stubs they'd scavenged from areas near the sewer grates. Raph had been about three when he'd picked up his first crayon and he had enjoyed drawing much more than his brothers. By the time they turned eight, both Leonardo and Donatello had moved on to more grown-up pursuits. At least, so they said. Leo liked to read the kinds of books with no pictures. When he wasn't reading, the eldest turtle followed their Sensei around like a puppy.

And Donnie, who had already read through nearly every book in their possession, began pursuing his career as an inventor. It was he, in particular, who criticized Raph for his lack of productivity. The hothead, even at only eight years of age, was not about to take that from anyone. So Raphael had hocked his crayons and stopped drawing altogether.

And then, about a week before their tenth birthday, Raphael had got in a fight with Leo. Big surprise. He'd stormed out into the sewers to cool off. And that was when it had happened...

—————

About a mile from the lair, Raph slowed. He fought valiantly to dispel the tears of frustration that had gathered in his eyes. It wasn't fair. It never was when it came to dear, perfect Leonardo.

Raph shuffled forward, kicking a can as hard as he could, turning to the right as the tunnel he was in connected to another. His feet screeched to a sudden halt. The tunnel was blocked by debris. Given the unusually heavy rains they'd been having a few weeks prior, higher levels of debris was simply to be expected. Who knows how the debris had even ended up there, considering most of it was far too large to fit through the grates. But Raph couldn't bring himself to care.

His bright-green eyes filled with intrigue as they caught on something tucked amongst the pile of rubbish. He reached out and tugged on it gently. The pile collapsed a little and Raph had to scramble back to avoid being buried. The item that had piqued his curiosity was clutched tightly in his hand, though it was still slightly stuck, so he set himself to yanking it out. He pulled a bit harder than he'd needed to and fell on his bottom. Raphael remained seated as he examined the contents of the cardboard box in his hands. Oddly enough, both the box and its contents were completely dry.

The first thing he pulled out was some kind of book. Raph leafed through it, with little interest. It had a thinly bound leather cover and plenty of thick, blank pages. There were a few pages that were slightly used, but it was practically empty. He peered back into the box.

There was a bag of black rocks in it, too. Wait, wait! Raph found some of these rocks when Donnie was with him once. What had he called them again? Some kind of coal...charcoal, that was it! Charcoal.

Slowly, Raph reached into the bag and pulled out one of the smaller fragments. Memories of his fight with Leo returned to his mind and his anger returned. Raph crushed the rock with all his might and brushed away the crumbs. His hand and fingers were black. He stared, shocked, then his eye-ridges crinkled with curiosity. Slowly, he pulled another fragment out of the bag and opened the book. Clutching the charcoal gently in his grip, he pressed it lightly to the paper and drew a line. Huh.

A noise echoing through the tunnels made him look up, suspiciously. Raph shoved the book and charcoal back into the box, picking it up and hightailing it out of there.

———————

That was how it had all started. Drawing had become very important to Raphael in the last few years. And charcoal was still his favorite medium. It was raw, harsh, yet delicate and required great care. Charcoal was easily smudged, and always presented enough of a challenge that it continued to hold his interest. Raphael had always been good at fighting. Fighting was one of the few things that Raph felt he could do well. As such, he tended to think of drawing as a sort of battle. This analogy was strengthened by his use of charcoal. Black charcoal battling relentlessly against white paper, creating stunning contrasts and breathtaking images.

Art was an outlet. One that Raph relied very heavily upon. He drew whenever he felt inferior, depressed, calm, pretty much any time he wanted. The only time he didn't draw was when he was angry. Drawing when he was angry only led to crushed pieces of charcoal, and since pieces were scarce in the sewers, Raph hated wasting them.

The charcoal swept across the paper as Raphael allowed his thoughts to wander. Long, sweeping strokes slowly formed the figure. Short, fast swipes shaded in the contours. Dark, hard swipes framed the edges. Raphael returned his focus to the drawing as he moved in on the eyes. Finally the charcoal slowed to a halt.

Well, that wasn't exactly what I intended. Raph thought as he looked straight into the eyes of his older brother. Leonardo stared up at him from the paper below.

The drawing was really, very good. Though that wasn't too surprising to Raphael. He had memorized each and every one of his brothers' features. He could draw them blindfolded. Despite what they thought, he was actually very observant when he wanted to be. Raph drew from memory. He always had.

He had inscribed so many memories in this book. But not for much longer, he thought with a frown. He only had about ten blank pages left. Something else occurred to him, maybe April could get me a new one. I could pay her back...

But then she'd ask a whole bunch of questions. And then my brothers would find out, and then, and then, and then...

And finally, an epiphany: Of course, I could ask Casey to get it! Now that was an interesting thought. Raph paused and set his sketchbook off to the side. I ask Casey and nobody will find out about it. I guess—

The sound of footsteps outside his door made Raph shoot into action. He closed the book and shoved it under the mattress just as the door to his room swung opened.

Donatello entered with a straight face, heading directly over to Raph's side. "How are you feeling?" He asked insistently

"It's nice to see you too." Raph muttered sarcastically.

Don frowned at the hothead's jeer at his bedside manner and retorted, sourly, "Well enough to criticize, I see."

Raphael smiled. "Aw, come off it Don, I was just messin' wit' ya."

The brainiac crossed his arms over his plastron. He was not impressed. "You should be resting." He said pointedly, poking his brother in the chest.

It was Raph's turn to pout. "Resting? Donatello, I am resting! I've been resting all day! I can't wait to stop resting! All this resting is making me restless!"

Donatello rolled his eyes. "You're impossible." He leaned over his older brother to inspect the wound on Raph's shoulder.

"I know. It's the secret to my charm." Raph responded cheekily.

Donnie scoffed, "What charm?"

The hothead chuckled and pushed the smart turtle backward playfully. Don's eyes narrowed, but Raph smiled as he saw a lighthearted smirk dance across the younger turtle's lips.

Raphael took that as a challenge. He hopped up out of bed and shoved Donatello to the floor.

Don grunted as they hit the ground. "Raph, you can't be doing this. Your shoulder—"

"My shoulder can take it, little brother, I'm not that sensitive." Raph grumbled as he pinned Donnie and dug his fingers into the brainiac's side, between the plastron and carapace. The hothead smirked as he finally got the reaction he was looking for. Yep, that was the spot.

Don's muscles tensed. Their movement abruptly ceased and Donatello glared at Raphael. "You wouldn't dare." He stipulated, glaring darkly.

Raph smirked and began to move his fingers. Don bit his lip, desperately attempting to contain his laughter. "Come on, Don. Secede!"

Don began to chuckle despite his best efforts. Between laughs, he managed to choke out a very breathy, "Never!"

Raph only doubled his efforts and soon Donnie was snorting with laughter. Raph smirked. Tickling Don into submission was always an amusing pastime.

"Alright! Alright! I give! I give! Uncle!" Don yelled desperately, his sides aching.

Raph practically preened with victory and moved away, allowing Donatello to sit up of his own volition. Their eyes met for a moment and they both chuckled a little and looked away. Awkward. Finally, Donatello glanced over at Raph.

He met Don's gaze and knew exactly what two words were gonna come next. See, Don still hadn't really apologized for what he'd said that night before Raph left. Raphael held up a hand.

Donatello stared rather dejectedly at Raphael's hand and went on, regardless. "Raph I..." He reached out out to put a hand on Raph's good shoulder.

Raphael caught Donnie's wrist. "Don, ya don't have to say it."

Donatello recoiled violently, his hands shaking with sudden rage. "Well what if I wanna say it, Raph? You always reject it as though it's nothing, but there are times when you actually deserve to hear it!" he yelled, his voice booming and echoing off the walls. Normally, the nerdy turtle was soft-spoken, but he was fed up with the way Raphael was acting. It slowly dawned on him that Raph was staring with wide-eyes, shocked by his outburst. Don deflated a little.  His voice little more than a whisper, he murmured, "I'm sorry."

Raph said nothing for a long time and Don's expression grew increasingly apprehensive. Finally Raphael settled for, "What the shell do ya want me to say, Don?"

The brainiac shrugged, "Accepting my apology might be nice."

Raph's peaceful expression melted into a frown. "I didn't want your apology, little brother." He grumbled. But at Donatello's pleading expression he sighed and acquiesced. "Fine, I accept your apology." Raph reached out and flicked the tape-covered center of his nerd-brother's glasses affectionately. "Now get outta here. I'm sure you've got a lot better things to do than waste your time in here 'resting' with me."

They both stood, the atmosphere significantly lighter than it had been a few minutes prior. Donatello murmured, "I've got plenty of other things to do, Raph. But there isn't a single one of them that I'd classify as being better than hanging out with my older brother."

Those words left a warm, fuzzy feeling in Raph's heart that was not at all unwelcome. He smiled and pulled Donnie into a loose headlock. His brothers knew that he didn't really do hugs.

Don had been about to leave, but as he hugged his brother, his eyes were drawn to the changes on Raph's back wall. What the shell?

"Raph." Don called insistently as he pulled out of the hug.

Raphael glanced at him, raising an eye-ridge at the brainiac's change of tone. "Yeah?"

"What is all that on your wall?"

Glancing from the wall to his brother and back, Raphael inwardly sighed. He took a deep breath before coolly replying, dryly, "Elementary, my dear brother. Records of my ghost-chasing efforts."

Don's eyes widened. "You mean that these points correspond with—"

"With the Foot's every movement over the past two weeks or so. This last point," Raph indicated the push-pin where the black string ended, "Is where I was attacked last week."

The magnified brown eyes turned to Raphael, before darting about the map frantically as he giddily exclaimed, "Raph, don't you realize how important this is? We need to show this to Sensei and the others right away! It could help us determine where the Foot will strike next!! Come on, we have to tell them now!" Don yelled, grabbing Raphael's wrist and dragging his larger sibling out the door and into the main room. There was no one there. Just as Raph was about to object, Donnie jerked his wrist and the two of them were heading towards the dojo. Donatello flung open the doors with no warning, making Splinter, Leo, and Mikey jump in shock. "Guys! Come on, follow us to Raph's room! You've got to see this!" And then they were off again as Don tugged Raphael away, heading back to his room.

The others exchanged curious glances, but followed slowly, all of them realizing, as Raphael had, that any objections would go completely unheard. Raph was getting very tired of being dragged around. So as soon as they arrived in his room, Raph yanked his hand out of Donatello's iron grip.

"Look!" Don said, excitedly pointing at map. "Raph did this! He's absolutely brilliant!"

Leo gawked, disbelievingly. "He is?"

Raph, too, was confused. "I am?" Donatello had called him lots of things over the years and brilliant certainly wasn't one of them.

"Yes!" Don answered, standing right in front of the map so that he could examine every point carefully.

Master Splinter glanced the over the map. "A very intricate piece of work, Raphael."

Raph straightened a little at his Father's praise but said nothing. Right now they were all a bit preoccupied with watching the way Donatello was bouncing about.

"Donatello." Splinter called sternly. Don gave an automatic grunt, which meant he was listening. "Why is this map of Raphael's so advantageous?"

Don pulled his pencil from where it was tucked in his belt. "Hmmm?" he asked. When his super-sonic mind finally absorbed what had been asked of him, he looked up at them, "Oh! Well, I could use these points representing the locations Raph came into contact with the Foot over the course of the past two weeks, which Raphael so nicely plotted out for me, to try and infer what their next move will be." Slowly, Donnie turned back around to Raphael, "I don't suppose you know what they were after?"

Raph smiled. "Check out the green push-pins."

Donnie did and his eyes practically bugged out of his head. It was a comprehensive list of what had been stolen from each location. "All with corresponding dates?"

Raph nodded. Then he added as a second thought, "Green tags are the items they succeeded in getting their hands on. The gray ones are the ones they failed to retrieve."

Leonardo's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Sounds to me like you've spent a lot of time on this."

Raph sent his older sibling a flat stare. "Yeah, I have. But I was trying to track down Shredder, so I had to be meticulous with the details."

Splinter took a few more steps forward so that he could study the map in detail. The old rat, glanced back over his shoulder at Raphael as he asked, "The red string represents your movements and the black the Foot's?"

Raph nodded in confirmation.

Michelangelo, who had been silent up until this point, blurted out, "Who's the white string?"

Raphael brushed off the question lightly and answered without hesitation. "Group of street thugs I've been keeping what you might call a 'watchful eye' on. So far, they haven't done anything really bad, but it's only a matter of time. Let's just say that without someone to stop them when that happens, innocent people could get hurt."

That sounded better in my mind. Raph thought, internally berating himself for the horrible cover story. Oddly enough, Michelangelo seemed to be satisfied with that and didn't ask anything further. Phew. Talk about dodging a bullet.

Of course, he'd have to come out to his family about Casey Jones sooner or later. And the longer he waited, Raphael knew, the more upset they'd be when they found out. He'd really gotten himself into a tight spot this time. It was going to be really, really, really hard to get out.

Just then Raph realized that Leo's attention was fixed on something over by the bed. Shit, his sketchbook's leather spine was sticking out from under the mattress. Leonardo took a few steps in that direction and Raph knew he was doomed. Not because his brothers would find out what an artistic sap he was, but because he drew only from memory. And there were at least two sketches in that book of a certain human named Casey Jones.

He fought the urge to lunge forward and grab the book, knowing it would really give him away. With a sinking heart, he watched as Leonardo grabbed the book and yanked it out from under the mattress. Balancing the book on one arm, Leo opened it to a random page.

Leo gasped and everyone in the room turned to him.

Raphael's heart dropped and his hands shook a little before he forcibly stilled them.

I am so dead.