Raphael ran through the sewers, holding onto his brother tightly. Water kept dripping down his face, and he briefly wondered where it was coming from before he realized with a start that he was crying…something that he hadn't done in years.

"Donny…" he moaned. "Why'd ya do that?! Why'd ya save me instead of yourself?"

His brother gave no answer.

"Ya better hang on, Donny…" Raphael said, his voice shaking. "Hang on, ya hear me?!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michelangelo was wondering where the pizza was, and took out his shell-cell, dialing Donatello. He frowned when the ringing seemed to come from inside the lair, and wondered if he'd accidentally called Leonardo's instead.

"HELP!" Raphael's voice suddenly filled the air. "Leo! Mikey!"

Michelangelo's phone slipped from his hands and he jumped off the couch, in time to see Raphael run in carrying their bloodied brother. "Donny!" he shouted, shocked at the terrible sight. "What happened?!"

"He's been shot!" Raphael exclaimed, gently laying Donatello on the couch.

"WHAT?!" Leonardo yelled, running in from the dojo.

"We…we…" Raphael suddenly couldn't speak. The initial shock and adrenaline had worn off, and he was nearly as much a wreck as the crying Michelangelo.

"Donny! Donny!" the youngest turtle kept repeating, from where he knelt at the couch clutching their injured brother's hand. "Please don't die, Donny!"

Leonardo dashed off for a towel and quickly returned, holding it firmly over the wound to try and stop the bleeding. Michelangelo, however, was in the way, so Raphael gently pulled him up from the floor and away from the couch.

Michelangelo wrapped his arms around his older brother and cried.

"Shh…" Raphael said, but one look at Donatello set him off too. He's dying, because of me…"We should move 'em to his lab," he told Leo. "I'll carry him while ya keep pressure on the wound."

The blue-banded turtle nodded, his own face stricken but his tears held back while he helped to save his brother's life.

Raphael let go of Mikey and carefully lifted his injured brother from the couch, slowly making his way to the infirmary section of Donny's own lab.

Michelangelo followed them, still sniffling.

Once Donatello was on the bed, Leonardo dashed around the room, grabbing supplies.

"Ya gotta remove the bullet," Raphael told him.

Leonardo looked at him, seeing the red-banded turtle standing with his arm around Mikey again. He opened his mouth to protest, before closing it and looking at the extremely pale Donatello, realizing that he was the most likely candidate. Inwardly forcing back a wave of self-doubt, he retrieved their genius-brother's surgical tools, and nervously obeyed.

Neither Michelangelo nor Raphael came closer to the bed, unable to watch. Michelangelo was too much a wreck over their brother dying before their eyes, and Raphael was too sick at heart that the peace-loving turtle was suffering needlessly…and for him.

It took a while for Leonardo to find the bullet, making Raphael wonder if the slug was in Donatello's lung. It apparently wasn't, for the oldest turtle suddenly held it up before dropping it on the nightstand. He then picked up a needle and thread, but hesitated.

"What?" a nervous Raphael asked.

"What if he's not all right in there?" Leonardo shakily asked. "What if he's bleeding internally or the bullet hurt his lung? If we sew him up, we'll just be hiding the damage!"

The thought made Raphael's stomach clench even worse that it already was.

"What would Donny do?" Michelangelo asked, through his still-falling tears.

Suddenly seized with desperation, Raphael stalked forward and grabbed Donatello's huge medical bag and pulled out the stethoscope. He had to hide a wince when he shoved the ends in his ears too hard, before holding the other end to the left side of their brother's plastron.

The others practically held their breath, as if the sound would interfere with Raphael trying to hear.

"Well?!" Leonardo asked, a minute later.

"I—I don't hear no gurglin' or nothin'," Raphael told him.

"Compare with the other side," said Leo.

Raphael obeyed, switching back and forth a few times. "They sound the same."

A collective sigh of relief emitted from everyone, and some of the tension lessened.

Raphael stepped back. "Sew 'em up!"

Without another word, Leonardo obeyed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night could easily be called the worst one of the turtles' lives. Though it seemed that the bullet had not punctured Donatello's lung, his breathing was very shallow and halting. He lay still as a corpse, never moving and never waking.

Leonardo had found, while stitching the wound, that one of his brother's upper ribs was broken. Though it was first considered bad news, they soon saw the blessing in it; the bone had obviously stopped the bullet from killing Donatello.

Through the long hours, Raphael hardly spoke; he'd told his family what had happened, and then quietly sat beside his brother's bed, as silent as the injured turtle. He could feel the others occasionally looking at him, and he knew their thoughts. "Go ahead, say it."

Michelangelo jumped slightly at the suddenness of their brother's voice.

"It wasn't your fault," said Leonardo.

Raphael shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. "Of course it was, Leo."

No one countered his statement.

"See?" Raphael said. "You all know it. I'm surprised that no one's scoldin' me for getting' Donatello shot! 'You're too quick to fight, Raph'," he mocked, voice getting louder with each word. "'You're too reckless, Raph', 'you'll get someone killed, Raph'! Well look, you're right!"

"Shhh!" said Mikey.

"Why?" Raphael shot back. "So I won't wake Donny up? I want 'em to wake up! Donny, wake up!"

His last sentence was filled with such pleading that it shocked the others, and Michelangelo, ever the comforter, leaped out of his chair and threw his arms around his hurting brother. He could feel Raphael shaking, so he squeezed him tighter.

It was a heartbreaking sight to watch the tough, macho turtle fighting tears.

Leonardo wanted to join them, but he was rooted to his chair, staring at their injured brother. Donatello's olive-green skin was so pale that he didn't even look like himself.

The oldest turtle wondered if their brother was dying.

Desperately wanting to bring optimism to his family, Leonardo reached forward and checked Donatello's pulse, hoping to have an improvement to report. The beat felt just as weak. Picking up the stethoscope, he listened to Donatello's lungs.

"Well?" he suddenly heard.

Looking up, he found Raphael and Michelangelo watching, the younger turtle's arms still around his older brother. "Come're, Mikey."

The youngest turtle looked confused for a minute, before looking at Raphael, seeming reluctant to let go of him.

Raphael nodded slightly, as if telling him that he was all right.

Michelangelo let go and crossed over to Leonardo, who held out the end of the stethoscope towards him.

"Wha—?" Mikey said.

"I want to compare," Leonardo told him.

Michelangelo complied, letting their oldest brother listen. Under other circumstances, he would've chuckled at the chilly feel of the stethoscope, but now was definitely not the time.

Leonardo pulled the stethoscope away and repeated the process on Donatello. "His lungs sound clear," he told them.

Everyone sighed with relief. If the bullet had caused any damage, there would've been evidence by now.

"He's warming up, too," Leonardo continued, a hand on their brother's forehead. "His skin isn't as cold."

"S-so you think he'll live?" Michelangelo said, almost afraid to ask.

Leonardo sighed. "I don't know this medical stuff the way that Donny does…"

"Warming up is good," said Raphael, his voice more calm now. "That means his body is comin' out of shock."

Leonardo nodded, pulling the covers up higher under Donatello's chin.

"I wish he would wake up," Michelangelo sighed.

"He will, Mikey," Leonardo said, forcing his voice to sound more determined than he felt. "He will."

TBC