I'll Stand By You . .
.
.
.
Oh, why you look so sad? Tears are in your eyes, come on and come to me now... Don't be ashamed to cry, let me see you through, 'cause I've seen the dark side too... So, if you're mad, get mad! Don't hold it all inside, come on and talk to me now... Hey! What'da you got to hide? I get angry too... well, I'm a lot like you... When you're standing at the cross-roads. don't know what path to choose, let me come along, 'cause even if you're wrong... I'll stand by you...
He paced outside Donnie's lab, a bit too quickly. Anger poured from him, anger against the purple dragon punks, against the mutants that worked with them, against the Foot they'd mopped another ally with beforehand... But mainly...
Himself.
He'd let his brother get hurt. How could he? They where suppose to be able to depend on one another, and now... because of him one of his brothers was fighting for his life.
There where a dozen easy reasons:
They had been out-numbered, they where already injured from a rumble with the Foot, neither of them had expected someone in the Purple Dragons to have a GUN for God's sake... not for a little deal like a bunch of stolen computers!
They where'nt reasons, just excuses. It was his fault. If he'd been fast enough,if he'd paid attention, or strong enough, If he hadn't been riding that post-fight high you got after winning and noticed that they'd practically fallen into a Purple Dragon deal going down...
His knee and ankle throbbed badly, but he remained on his feet. "I deserve it," he thought, "It should be ME lying in there bleeding! He took that bullet for ME."
The memories where sharp, more painful than his injuries. That moment... the gleam of chrome under the street-light, the endless echo of the one shot the punk had managed to get off...and the blood... my God, so much blood... first from his brother, then from his attacker.
He'd tied off the wound as best he could, and sent out the emergency signal.
And then he'd turned... and it didn't matter that the blow he'd delivered had knocked the gun out of the punk's hand, it didn't matter that he wasn't armed anymore. He'd seen red... first only blurring his vision, then he was covered in it.
The shell raiser had arrived not long after, and Don had exclaimed over the amount of blood. He'd let him know that it wasn't his. And Donatello hadn't pushed to know whose it was.
Don hung a IV bag in the back of the moving car, and examined the wound...
He cursed himself again, this time for giving Donnie trouble about learning basic first aid. Had he done everything right? Or had his half-assed job killed his brother?
He closed his eyes in self-disgust, only opening them when the door to the lab opened.
"Donnie! Is he going to be ok?!" He asked, knowing that nothing was cirtin, even with his 'Miracle-worker' of a brother.
Don nodded, and pulled him into a tight hug. "Your tying off his leg kept him from bleeding out. He'll be off duty for a few weeks, but he should make a full recovery." He pulled back and smiled.
"Don't worry Mikey... Raph's going to be fine."