Hello all! Alrighty chapter 2 is up! Thank you again to Amonraphoenix for beta reading this chapter for me! YOu are awesome!:D
Also a big thank you to my reviewers Diana Fay, no more love, raph'sgirl4ever, Aster Sapphire, I love Kittens too, and Vertical Fall
now please enjoy:)
Chapter 2
Michelangelo looked around in horror, his mind fighting to stay calm and to not give into his panic. His heart was thumping too rapidly in his chest and he was breathing too quickly. His head spun, becoming light headed and dizzy.
There was another movement from the truck coupled with a slight moan.
Michelangelo gathered himself up and swallowed down his panic. He had to move Raphael and move him fast.
He looked down at his brother whose eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and gasping. And although Raphael's eyes were closed, Michelangelo had the distinct impression that Raphael was still conscious, despite the agonizing pain he was probably experiencing.
He knew he shouldn't move his brother, knew that it was the absolute worst possible thing he could do, but at the same time, they couldn't be seen by the human. He knew he didn't have a choice. He lifted his brother up under his armpits to try to pull him up. Raphael tensed his body going rigid with pain, flinching back from Michelangelo's gentle touch as he let out a strangled cry of agony.
Michelangelo nearly dropped his brother back to the ground, but fought against this instinct and dragged his brother deeper into the shadows. He knew he needed to get Raphael to safety as fast as he could, and get Donatello to treat their brother's injuries.
He gritted his teeth together, tears silently running down his cold cheeks, and pulled Raphael further into the concealing darkness. He looked around desperately for a manhole cover but the only one he had seen was located under the front tire of the truck that had struck Raphael.
He moved his brother down another side alley and up towards the street.
Raphael choked back another cry of pain as Michelangelo tried to ignore the sharp tang of blood that filled the air. Michelangelo lay Raphael back down and spoke to his brother softly as he quickly checked over his brother's injuries. Raphael's leg was definitely broken, and one of his arms hung slightly lower than the other one, meaning it was probably dislocated. Blood ran down his cheek from a deep laceration. More blood had dribbled down his chin and Michelangelo was praying that Raphael had only bit his tongue and that the blood wasn't coming from an internal injury. Raphael had a few other superficial scrapes and cuts covered his face, and hands and bruises were beginning to bloom just under his brother's pale skin, still dyed blue in places.
He opened his brother's jacket and cringed in horror at the sight of spider wed cracks that ran across the surface of Raphael's plastron. His eyes strayed to his brother's side and to a large gash that was bleeding profusely.
He felt black spots begin to dance before his eyes at the sight of the blood and had to bite his own tongue to snap himself back into focus. He pulled off his hoodie and yanked his t-shirt up and over his head. He balled the fabric up and pressed it into his brother's side.
Raphael let out a whimper of pain and Michelangelo let out a choked sob that that was supposed to be an apology as he pressed down harder. Once the bleeding seemed to slow Michelangelo gathered himself up enough to talk.
"Put pressure on this, 'kay." He told his semi-conscious brother as he stood, snagging his hoodie up from the ground and dragging it over his head before dashing up the alley to the road to get his bearings. He hadn't been paying attention to where he had been running before the accident. He spotted a manhole cover across the street in an adjacent alley. He knew if he could get Raphael to the manhole he would be able to drag his injured brother…
His mind screeched to a jarring halt at this thought. He would have to try to pull his severely injured -possibly dying brother- through the manhole cover and try not to dump him into the filth of the sewers below.
Michelangelo bit back a sob of despair and frustration. He couldn't do it, not alone. He knew he was still too close to the site of the accident. The sound of sirens that rang through the air may not be heading towards the accident, but even if they were, he didn't want to move Raphael anymore.
He reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone, only his phone wasn't there. He felt a fission of dread work its way across his entire body as he frantically patted all of his pockets repeatedly and found no sign of his phone.
His mind flashed to the image of him putting his phone down on the counter to charge. He felt light-headed for a moment as he realized that he couldn't even call his brothers for help.
His chest tightened in fear and he doubled over as he began to hyperventilate. He knew he had to get himself under control but no matter how many times his mind shouted at his body to get a hold of himself, it was like his body wasn't listening.
An agonized whimper slammed him back into reality and he looked back at his brother's broken and battered body. He rushed back over to his brother's side. "It's okay Raphie, I'm gonna get you some help, 'kay? So just...just hang in there." He soothed, his voice shaking with panic he looked around as if in doing so, he would find the solution to his problem.
He blinked as a street sign caught his attention. He realized that he was only three blocks from Aprils' apartment, which meant it was at least twenty blocks to the lair. If he could get Raphael to April's apartment, April would be able to help Raphael, and Michelangelo would be able to call Donatello and get his genius brother to come to April's.
His shoulders slumped slightly. Three blocks was a long way to have to haul Raphael, especially because his brother was so much heavier than he was. And he knew that moving him was the worst thing he could do. He briefly thought about hiding Raphael and going himself to April's house, grabbing April and her van and coming back to get Raphael so that he wouldn't be injured further. But the thought of leaving his brother to possibly bleed to death, alone in a darkened alley turned his stomach and made little black spots of horror dance before his eyes.
He took a deep breath. "Sorry, Raphie." Michelangelo whispered to his brother, trying to ignore the blood that covered his brother's face and trickled from between his lips. "This is gonna hurt, but I'm getting you help, okay?" Michelangelo didn't wait for a reply, and instead scooped his brother up in his arms. Michelangelo let out a strained gasp, trying not to drop his brother, but his arms were already beginning to shake with effort.
He walked a few steps, trying to block out his brother's gurgling, gasping breaths of pain laced agony. "Just a little further, Raphie, I promise." Michelangelo lied as he made it to the mouth of the alley, looking both ways, before trying to dash cross the street. The street was deserted for which he was thankful for. He made his way across the street, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, the blood rushing noisily through his ears drowning out any other sounds.
He managed to make it across the street without dropping his brother, but he had to set him down before his tense body slipped from his grip. Michelangelo was breathing heavily, but knew that he had to keep going. The faster he was able to get Raphael to April's, the faster his brother would be treated. He looked down at Raphael's face, too pale beneath the blood and bruises that were beginning to form.
"-ikey..." Raphael managed to rasp out as blood bubbled up from between his lips.
"I know, Raph, I know." Michelangelo soothed, his voice breaking slightly as he gently touched his brother's cold cheek.
"Listen I...I'm going to be right back, okay? I won't be long, I promise." He told his brother as he pulled him a little further into the alley, tucking him in behind a dumpster and arranging a few garbage bags and cardboard to hide his brother's broken form.
The blaring wail of the sirens was getting uncomfortably close, and now there was more than just one. He needed to make sure that the way to April's apartment was still clear and he needed to find out what was going on so that he could find out how close the police were going to get.
Michelangelo darted back down the way he had come. He knew that he hadn't made it that far away from the accident. He watched two squad cars slowly drive past, a spotlight sweeping past the alley as Michelangelo quickly pulled back into the shadows.
He looked back down the alley where he had stashed Raphael and noticed another squad car had pulled up and two officers stepped out of the car and Michelangelo was just able to hear the bolo that had been issued.
"Suspect seen fleeing from the scene. Vehicle was reported stolen earlier this evening. Large amount of blood found at the scene, possible homicide victim taken from the crash area."
Michelangelo's breath caught in his throat as the officers began shining flashlights down the alley.
Michelangelo swallowed down a fearful yelp of distress and bolted silently up a convenient drain pipe. He knew he needed to get out of sight before the police managed to spot him and then he would have to lead the officers away on a merry chase. As he got to the rooftop and surveyed the officers below, poking through the garbage and getting ever closer to Raphael's hiding spot, he believed that this would be a distinct possibility anyway.
The officers were getting too close. Michelangelo couldn't see Raphael from his vantage point, but he knew where his brother was hidden and if Raphael made any noise now, the officers would hear him.
He cursed under his breath and ducked back, running towards where the officers had parked their cruiser and ran down the fire escape. He pulled his hood up over his head and kicked a can across the asphalt. The officers turned and Michelangelo ran as they turned.
He heard the shouted orders to stop, but Michelangelo didn't stop, he ran, the officers following as he ducked down another alley quickly making his way up to the rooftop before circling back to Raphael.
Michelangelo hopped down another fire escape and ducked behind a dumpster as the police officers ran towards their cruiser.
"They got him." One officer said to the other.
"Yeah and I guess we can call off the search for whoever the guy hit, blood's not human. They think he probably hit a big dog. Must have managed to get away somehow, maybe someone found it and took it to a vet. Whatever the case, it's not our problem. We got a call of a domestic disturbance over on 48th." The other officer said as they both got in the cruiser and drove off.
Michelangelo let out a sigh of relief as the cruiser drove off. He pulled himself from behind the dumpster and quickly ran to the other side, pulling the garbage bags and cardboard from around his brother. Raphael remained motionless as he removed the final piece of cardboard.
Raphael lay exactly as he had left him, leaning against the wall; head flopped slightly forward and to the side, his face a sickly shade of grey-green.
"Raph?" Michelangelo asked as icy terror gripped his heart squeezing it so tightly Michelangelo swore that his heart actually ceased to beat. Michelangelo fell to his knees in front of his brother. "No, nonononono!" Michelangelo whimpered shaking his head back and forth in denial. The thought that he had just left his brother -abandoned and alone- to die in a filth strew alley surrounded by garbage, raked guilt y claws of remorse through his mind and tore his soul to shreds. He let out a choked sob as he reached out a shaky hand to check his brother's pulse.
His hand was shaking so badly that he couldn't even tell if there was a pulse. "Come on, Raphie. Please, please be alive." He pleaded to his brother just as he felt the faint flutter of a pulse beneath his numb fingertips.
Relief flooded through him as he closed his eyes in grateful relief, giving silent thanks to the universe that Raphael was still alive; at least for now.
Determination flooded through him as he gently picked his bother up again. He miraculously managed to make it the other two blocks to April's apartment without dropping his brother, or being seen. The process had been onerous and slow, each minute that had passed was one minute too long, but now his brother's salvation stood in front of him. He pulled his brother's body close to his plastron, his arms burning with effort and fatigue as he quickly made his way up the fire escape and to the window that April always left unlocked for them.
Michelangelo shifted his brother lowering him to the metal grated walkway and slid the window open, not even bothering with his customary knock.
He ducked his head into the apartment. "April!" He called out, his voice containing a desperate, frenzied edge. The apartment was silent, still, and dark. Michelangelo felt his heart sink into his gut with the realization that April wasn't home. He swallowed down a sob of frustration and helplessness before giving himself a mental shake. At least Raphael was somewhere safe and there was a phone. He could call Donatello and Raphael would get the medical treatment he needed.
He pulled his head out of the window and carefully picked Raphael up, stepping backwards and through the opening into April's living room, pulling Raphael in after him. He managed to make it to the couch and carefully laid Raphael down.
Straightening, he turned on the lights in the living room. He found the cordless phone and darted to the bathroom looking for a first aid kit. He put the phone to his ear, calling Donatello as he rooted around through April's cupboards.
"Where is it?!" He growled as he was unable to come up with a first aid kit, only managing to find a couple boxes of band aids and some feminine products. He hesitated a moment before grabbing the band aids, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He took two steps towards the living room, turned back around, grabbing the box of feminine products and ran back to the living room.
Donatello finally answered his cell. "Mikey, if this is you calling trying to get me to smooth things out with Leo because you and Raph bailed on partol-"
"Donny!" Michelangelo's panicked voice interrupted his brother. "Raph's hurt!"
Donatello paused. "How bad?" He asked his voice grave and containing and edge of worry.
"I don't know." Michelangelo admitted truthfully as he stared down at Raphael.
"What do you mean you don't know?! Mikey, what happened?" Donatello's sharp voice demanded.
"He was hit by a truck." Michelangelo replied as he knelt down beside Raphael, checking his brother's pulse again.
"Mikey," Donatello's voice was gentle but insistent. "How fast was the truck going?"
"I don't know, 30 maybe, I didn't see it happen. I'm at April's apartment, she isn't here, and I don't know what to do!" He wailed into the phone. Tears began to stream unbidden down his cheeks as he began to ramble. "Raph's unconscious, and he's grey, and he's bleeding… I think his leg is broken and his arm is dislocated and his…Oh, God..." Michelangelo whispered in horror as he pulled his brother's bloody coat away from his plastron. The bleeding hadn't stopped. Michelangelo looked at his bloody t-shirt that he had used to staunch the bleeding from Raphael's side in horror.
"Mikey?! Mikey what's-?"
"Donny! J-just get here as fast as you can, a-and bring blood, lots of blood; everything you got t-to, to keep someone alive." He stammered hanging up the phone as he pulled the blood drenched t-shirt away, from the laceration that was still bleeding profusely. He put the t-shirt back, knowing that it was saturated and could no longer hold any more blood.
Raph's gonna die, Raph's gonna die, Raph's gonna die!
These words ran through his head over and over again as he looked around desperately, his eyes falling upon April's sewing machine, pressed up against the wall. He leapt to his feet and ran to the machine, grabbing out a spool of thread, a needle, and a pair of scissors.
"What do I do? What do I do, think, Mikey, think." He said to himself as he stood. He darted into the kitchen and began opening drawer after drawer until he found a BBQ lighter and a roll of duct tape. He pulled them out and ran back to Raphael's side. He managed to thread the needle, and considering the unsteady state of his hands, this was something of a small miracle. He lit the BBQ lighter heating the needle and sterilizing it as best as he could.
Pulling the bloody t-shirt away he took one look at his brother's passive, grey, sweat drenched brow and looked back down. He stuck the needle through his brother's flesh and looked back at his brother's face. Raphael made no movement and he was thankful that his brother was unconscious as he performed the gruesome task of crudely sewing the laceration closed. He cut the thread when he had finished and surveyed his handy-work. The stitches were wide and uneven, but at least the bleeding had mostly stopped, though it still oozed slightly. He dumped a little bit of hydrogen peroxide on the wound and grabbed the box of feminine pads. He knew that if Raphael had been conscious, there was no way he would be able to do what he was about to do. In fact, he was pretty sure Raphael would rather die than have him use a maxi pad to stop the bleeding; which was why he was thankful that his difficult, hot headed brother was unconscious.
Opening the box he pulled out a pad and unwrapped it. He then placed it gently over the slowly oozing wound. He then took the duct tape and tore off a strip, taping the pad down.
This worked so well that he repeated the process on a few of the larger scrapes that marred his brother's legs and arms, his clothing having been shredded, exposing his skin to the rough asphalt.
Michelangelo checked his brother's breathing which seemed raspy at best; as if he was having trouble breathing, and his pulse was still too weak; barely even a flutter under his blood stained hands. He looked at his hands in horror; covered in his brother's blood.
He had caused this.
It was because he was playing a stupid prank that Raphael had been hit by the truck and now lay injured, possibly bleeding to death on April's couch; the crimson stains brilliant, damning proof of his culpable guilt.
"I'm sorry, Raph. I am so, so sorry." He choked out. He knelt down beside his unconscious brother, and gently brought up his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Come on Raphie, hang in there, Bro. Donny's on his way and he's gonna fix you up in no time. And…and then you're going to get better and then you're going to kick my ass, and I swear I won't pull any more pranks…ever. I promise."
Raphael made no movement, and no acknowledgement of his words.
Michelangelo closed his eyes not knowing what else to do.
Every sense felt hyper aware, every muscle was pulled tight and tensed, waiting for something, anything to happen. He felt on edge as if he had downed too many cans of soda and was now wired and without any sort of outlet to let loose all of his pent up energy.
A presence suddenly appeared behind him and adrenalin surged through every nerve in his body. Michelangelo didn't think, just reacted. He jumped to his feet, pulling his nunchucks from his belt, turning quickly he intended on attacking whoever it was who had crept silently up behind him.
April jumped back with a muffled yelp of surprise. "Mikey!" She squealed, holding up her hand in defense. "Mikey, what's going on?" She asked in alarm, her arms falling by their sides as she took in the living room and his bloodstained appearance.
Michelangelo followed her gaze. He had knocked over a lamp, a table, and a few nick-knacks. The bloody t-shirt lay on the rug slowly seeping into the fibers.
Michelangelo opened his mouth to answer his friend, but the only sound that came out was a wretched, miserable sob. He dropped his arms, his nunchucks falling to the floor as April paled, catching sight of Raphael's motionless body sprawled out on the couch.
"M-Mikey…i-is…is h-he…" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper as she stumbled over to the couch, her pale face paling even further as she saw Raphael's mangled body.
Michelangelo shook his head back and forth. "He…he's still alive, but he's hurt bad, April, a-and I don't know what to do!" He wailed wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.
April walked forward and knelt down beside Raphael, gently brushing a hand across his brother's forehead. "What happened to him, Mikey?" She asked softly as she began a quick inspection of Raphael's numerous injuries.
Michelangelo explained what had happened; his words tumbling from his lips in a jumbled mess that he was pretty sure made almost no sense at all.
When April came across the duct taped maxi pads adorning Raphael's body, no smile even crossed her face. Her face remained pale, grim and impassive.
"His right femur is broken and his left arm is definitely dislocated. Besides all of the scratches and bruises I can't tell anything else and I don't want to move him. Though his breathing doesn't sound very good and his pulse is very weak." April told him quietly, her voice shaking slightly. "I-is Donny on his way?"
"Yeah." Michelangelo was able to answer.
"Okay, then we should try to get these clothes off so Donny can see what he's dealing with. We should clean away all of the blood and try to keep Raph warm and comfortable as possible, it might help with the shock he's in." April said as she grabbed the pair of scissors he had discarded and carefully began to cut his brother's jeans off. They didn't have tails and their plastrons ended just below where their belly buttons would be if they had any. Below that line their anatomy was more human than turtle, but still not completely human.
Michelangelo was about to protest April cutting Raphael's clothing off, but figured that it was going to happen anyway. And besides, April had seen them nearly naked on more than one occasion when she had stopped by unannounced and caught one of them in their underwear walking from the shower to their bedrooms. And April was human; it wasn't as if she would care what was under Raphael's boxer briefs anyway.
April pulled Raphael's pants away and Michelangelo had to quickly cover his mouth and swallow down the vomit that rolled up his throat.
Raphael's thigh bone hadn't pierced through the skin, but it was a close thing. Michelangelo could see the bulge of the bone out of place just under his brother's skin. April made a strange sound before looking back at Michelangelo.
"I need you to go to the kitchen and fill a large dish with soapy water. Bring me a clean cloth and some towels as well." She told him steadily, Michelangelo nodding gratefully; glad to be doing anything other than staring at his brother's leg.
When he got back, April was just finishing up cutting off the last of Raphael's jacket. Scraps of bloodied fabric now littered the floor around April's legs, like a silent proclamation of imminent death.
April bent Raphael's arm pulled it back and suddenly there was a sickening pop as the shoulder slid back into its socket. Michelangelo couldn't take anymore. Between the broken leg, the dislocated shoulder, the cracks that shot across his brother's bloodstained plastron and the bloody froth that bubbled up and out from Raphael's lips, Michelangelo lost it. He managed to make it to the bathroom and shove his head into the toilet before he puked. He vomited once more before he wiped a shaking hand across his mouth.
He stood and washed his bloodied hands, washing his mouth out and splashing some water onto his face before stumbling from the bathroom back to the living room.
He felt as if he was about to collapse, but forced his feet to move until he was standing by the couch again.
April had just finished washing the blood from his brother's body, the bowl by her side dark crimson, the bright white cloth stained with his brother's blood. April gently dried his brother's skin, which was covered with deep bruising. The removal of the blood helped Raphael look a little better, but not much.
April finally dragged a thick blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over Raphael's motionless body.
She then took one of Raphael's, calloused, scarred hands in her own smaller one.
"I-I think…He's not breathing right, Mikey. He sounds like he's gasping for air and there's a gurgling, wheezing sound when he exhales. H-he also shouldn't be bleeding from his mouth like he is. He probably has a collapsed lung and…and internal bleeding." She stammered her eyes wide with fear and helplessness. "H-how long did Donny say he was going to be?" She asked him, her voice desperate.
"I-I don't know." He answered miserably, shaking his head back and forth.
"I can't… I know a little basic first aid, but, Mikey, I don't know what to do for injuries this severe." Her voice contained a note of panic. "I can help Donny, but only because he tells me what to do, and I've never…I can't do this by myself." She told him wretchedly.
Michelangelo nodded numbly because there wasn't anything either of them could do until Donatello arrived. All they could do now was wait and hope that Raphael lasted that long.
April turned her attention back to Raphael. His brother's skin had turned a sickly molted grey, his eyes sunken into his face and ringed with dark circles. His mouth was open slightly as he gasped for air.
April reached out and laid a gentle hand on Raphael's cheek. "Come on, Big Guy." April whispered. "Hang in there. Donny's on his way, so don't you dare give up and die on me, okay?" April begged in a shaky voice.
Raphael's head lolled to the side as he opened his eyes slightly, before closing them again.
April looked at her hand in shock, Raphael having obviously squeezed it in response to her words.
Blood suddenly bubbled up from between Raphael's lips, a strange gagging, choking noise coming from his mouth.
"Raph!" Michelangelo shouted in terror as April quickly stood, trying to roll Raphael to his side so that he wouldn't drown in his own blood.
Raphael's body suddenly seized up, shaking violently as his eyes opened briefly before rolling back in his head and closing again.
"Raph!"April's voice broke in alarm as tears rolled down her pale white cheeks.
Michelangelo helped April to hold Raphael's flailing limbs down as he bucked on the couch before suddenly becoming frighteningly still.
Michelangelo and April both pulled back in shock, April's hands flying to check his brother's pulse.
She made a choked sound of denial as she leaned down and placed her head on firmly Raphael's chest, right over his heart. "H-he's not breathing, and I can't hear a heartbeat." She sobbed out in panic.
Michelangelo felt his world blacken around the edges as he tried to hold onto consciousness and sanity.
April tilted Raphael's head back and leaning forward, blew a puff of air into his unmoving lungs.
Michelangelo realized that she was trying to resuscitate Raphael and placed his hands carefullyon his brother's chest, delivering three good pumps and pausing as April blew another puff of air into Raphael's mouth.
"Come on, Raph!" Michelangelo begged. "Donny's almost here! Please just, hold on!"
"Don't you dare do this to me, Raphael." April hissed angrily. "Please, please don't die." She cried out.
Michelangelo continued to desperately pump his brother's chest, both doing everything they could to save Raphael's life; but somehow, Michelangelo had the feeling that everything wasn't good enough.
*sniff* poor Raphie!
Thoughts an opinions are always appreciated!