Author's Note: Title is self-explanatory. This is my place for putting drabbles which would otherwise interfere with my mind. Drabbles will be less than 1000 words and written in first person. I have no idea how frequently I'll update this.

I don't own the turtles.

This one is about Raphael's thoughts at the end of The Outlaw Armaggon! (2012 cartoon, season 4, episode 4, space arc). Let me know what you think!

Hothead

They say I'm a hothead.

It's true, I guess. I don't always think before I act. I regularly let my anger get the better of me – though I'm getting better at controlling it, thank you very much.

But I wasn't the one who left the ship without notice to fight a space shark on my own, was I? How stupid was that? How reckless, how crazy?

Who's the hothead now?

We'll definitely have words about it later, when I won't be running as fast as I can to get out of a space station ready to explode.

Is it because we are in space? Finally space heroes, like in that cartoon you love so much. How ironic.

Or maybe you're just seizing every opportunity you have to recklessly fight. Maybe it's your way to deal with our impossible situation – back in time, lost in space, bound to prevent a dark hole from swallowing Earth.

Maybe it's your way to deal with the images of our father being stabbed by the Shredder.

I get that.

I'm still mad at you.

I need to be, to forget that I'm leaving you behind. Again.

Running for my life alongside the others while you're fighting to buy us time.

I'm done second-guessing your orders – it usually doesn't go well for us.

But I wanted to stay with you, so much.

You said you got this.

I trust you.

I really do.

But what is this?

Does this involve your own survival?

It better would.

I'm shouting at you in my head while I run through Fugitoid's ship, find my space gear and yours and go back the way I came, while the others take their places in the control room.

Praying I don't know who that it won't be too late.

I'm scared.

You're not invincible. Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I didn't have time to figure it out while I watched over you, battered and scarred and unconscious in a damn bathtub for three whole months?

I go as far as I can with my lifeline. I don't see you.

Time is slowing. This space shark – Fugitoid said that he was far too dangerous. Did he win? Are you lying on the floor, knocked out? I refuse to believe it.

You said you got this.

I see you.

You're running with an inferno at your heels.

I've never been happier that you're faster than me.

Come on, Leo.

Come on!

You're getting closer. The flames are, too. The space station crumbles to pieces behind you.

Remember that time, when the Kraang invaded New York and you told us to go so you could rupture their power cell and blow up the whole place?

You were falling like a stone in the sky, eyes closed.

I caught you then.

I catch you again.

Everything explodes around us, but you made it – just in time.

Your eyes meet mine, ocean blue against the blackness of space.

I give you your gear and help you put it on. I'm efficient and precise so you can breathe again, and my hands are not shaking, not at all.

You're smiling at me, with relief and gratitude, and relief floods through me.

It was so close. I know it, you know it. Your eyes tell me that you're sorry. And that you regret nothing.

We both know that it will happen again. You can't help it, I can't prevent it.

It doesn't matter. Nor does it matter that the odds are against us, teenage mutant ninja turtles lost in the infinity of space.

While Fugitoid's ship pulls us in its wake, away from that wretched place, I shout to celebrate our victory. We won.

You're not dying today, Leo.

Not on my watch.

Never on my watch.