The darkness tries to keep me in its embrace with its seductive promises of rest and oblivion, but my mind refuses to accept them.
It's not like in most books where the drugged individual (i.e. - me) doesn't remember anything and wonders where they are before suddenly recalling exactly what had happened to them the night previously. Unlike them, I remembered.
True, the memories seemed to now possess a hazy edge, and they come slowly, but I remember. School, the chase, moving in a dark space, a bloody stump, blue, warm fingers, turtles, the knife, the drugs...and then the darkness.
As the memories fade into the background, my senses start to take over once again. My hearing clears before the others.
"I jus' don't understand why we're still standin' around here playing doctor- again might I add!" Is the first thing I register. It's the gruff voice from before, and I'd bet everything I own (not that that was a lot) on the voice belonging to the big one in red.
"Unlike the last time, she does have injuries!" Says a voice coming from the same direction as Red. It sounded like this new voice (who I believed was Blue-Eyes) was about to continue with -what was sounding like- an argument, but was interrupted.
"So we drop 'er at the nearest hospital, and that's that!" says Red, louder now. "She might be a Foot spy for all we know, and we literally just carried her into our lair. They could be on their way right now to blow up our home again, for cryin out loud!" His voice is practically a shout at this point.
"Technically, from the behavior of the group and the location of the attack, we can safely assume that she could fit more in the 'kidnap' or 'ambush victim' category," This one was definitely Glasses, "and furthermore," he continued, "her injuries were pretty severe. We couldn't risk taking the time to get her to the closest hospital- you saw what happened as soon as we got her here, she almost died on the table of a collapsed lung." His voice had steadily become more defensive the longer he spoke, ending with a surprisingly disapproving inflection in his tone. "And," he says almost as an afterthought, "the security systems would have picked up abnormal activity within a mile radius of the lair. She also didn't have any recording devices or microchips planted on her- I scanned her after she went under."
"You checked out a girl while she was sleeping?! Dude, that's like second base bro!" Crowed- undoubtedly- by the Young one. I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.
There's a brief pause as something flat comes into contact with another object, followed quickly by a muffled 'ouch!', and then the argument continues, as if never interrupted.
"Well then, we take her to one now. If she's good enough to lie on a bed here, why can't she be in one at a hospital?! You know, where humans go!" Red again. No surprise there.
"Well, you pointed it out earlier, didn't you Raph?" Said Blue, obviously trying to hold back the emotion in his voice. "She could be a Foot soldier, so we need to question her, which in turn means keeping her close and under observation. But if she's not, the least we could do is make sure she recovers- and more importantly, that she keeps our secret. Wakaru?"
I hear a huff, then a grumble- I can't make out any words, but it sounds like Red has run out of points in his argument.
"I think you're just freaked 'cause she wasn't. She didn't even come close to fainting- even after staring at your ugly face!" came the voice of the Young one again.
Another 'thud', this one louder, followed by an 'oomph', and then the unmistakable sounds of large footsteps growing quieter and quieter, until they finally disappear altogether.
At least two of the voices have stayed in the area where I am laying, and they begin to talk to each other quietly. I take this time to test out my other senses.
I'm resting on my right side (the opposite of where I was stabbed, thank goodness) rather than on my back, as one usually does when waking up from surgery. I'm not really surprised though, 'I never could sleep on my back' I think to myself.
There's a comfortable pillow under my head, and I suspect more behind and in front of me- I can feel the cushy lumps surrounding me, helping me to stay on my side. I can feel a tightness across my abdomen, and a twinge of pain goes through the area as I shift a little off my arm that's starting to go numb beside me. I ignore the twinge and slide my hand under the pillow below my head, letting out a sigh now that I'm comfortable.
My brain still feels foggy, but I know I don't want to slip under into the darkness again. I shift my leg so that it drapes over the pillow by my knees, then arch my back to stretch my sore limbs. More twinges of pain shoot through me, from both the puncture site and from my chest, but it's more the good kind of pain rather than the bad kind.
My tongue darts out to try and wet my cracked lips, but that's pretty dry too. I swallow, take a deep breath through my nose, and then crack my eyes open.
The light doesn't seem as harsh as before, but it's still too bright for my eyes when I first open them. After blinking for a few seconds though, the light starts to feel not as sharp, and the image of my surroundings begins to clear.
Glasses and Blue-Eyes are standing close to each-other at the far side of the room (it's definitely a different room from earlier. It's more spacious and has homey decorations), heads bent together and occasionally gesturing with their hands. They don't notice that I'm awake, but before I can take advantage of the un-observed moment to get a decent look at the room I'm laying in, my vision is filled with orange and green.
I blink as my eyes re-adjust to look at the grinning face inches away from mine. It's the young one- the same who had been digging through my backpack the last time I saw him. He's looking at me as intensely as I assume I'm looking at him. I don't have the presence of mind to feel afraid or self-conscious (the drugs' doing, I realize later), but I do have the strange desire to touch the face in front of me.
Blinking slowly, I reach my hand across the pillow that's been supporting my chest and inch my hand toward his face. His smile falters a bit when he sees my hand moving in his direction, and glances at it often while it makes its slow progress toward him, then back at me.
I give him a tired (and very drugged) close-lipped smile, which he returns in full-force, and suddenly my palm is resting on his cheek. My hand looks tiny and pale on his large green face, but his skin is softer then what I imagined. Not quite as soft as mine, but closer than what I had thought it was going to be.
His smile changes from an 'over-eager-and-up-to-something' grin, to something softer. He keeps eye contact, and leans into my touch slightly, as if craving the physical contact. We sit like this for a moment, just looking at each other while my thumb moves slowly up and down his cheek until my strength starts to wane causing my hand to shake. He feels this, and reaches up to cover his hand with mine, slowly lowering it back down onto the pillow in front of me, but then doesn't take his hand away.
I smile faintly again, comforted by the touch. It's as if I had an older brother or a close friend holding my hand in my time of need. I think he senses this because he gives my hand a little squeeze.
I swallow as a question finally forms in my head. "...t's your name?" I ask, my tongue feeling sluggish and full of cotton.
He blinks at me, then smiles even wider, "I'm Mikey," he says, "the full names' Michelangelo, but my bros call me 'Mikey' for short. You can too if you'd like," he asks, and this time there's a tint of shyness included, as if nervous of my response.
"Mikey," I sort of sigh, the drugs making themselves known again and trying to drag me under. I take a deep breath and force my eyes to stay open, "is a wonderful name." I finish.
He beams at me again, but before we can continue with wherever this conversation was going, more green bodies fill my vision. Someone says something to Mikey (and it sounds as if in another language), who looks up at him-obviously disappointed, but tenses to stand. He gives me one last smile (I swear that smile could rival the NYC skyline), pats my hand again, then turns out of my field of vision. He's replaced with the one in Glasses, and I can sense Blue-eyes watching from close-by.
"Hannah, right?" Glasses asks me. I nod slowly when the question registers. His eyes are darting from my face to his devices strapped to his arms, but it's not in a nervous way. It reminds me more of a doctor checking his patients' chart.
He gives me a small closed-lip smile as if he's not used to giving them, but the gesture is sincere.
"I know you might have a lot of questions, but first let's check and make sure everything's running at top performance, alright?" he asks as he slowly reaches for the hand that had been covered by his brother moments before.
Again, I nod- then watch as he takes my hand and flips it over, cradling it and pressing two of his large fingers into the flesh below my wrist.
I clear my throat and try to swallow again, without much success at relief, and ask the same as I did to Mikey- I can't just keep calling them by the names I made up for them, it feels too impersonal for everything that they've done for me.
"What's your name?" I ask quietly, my eyes now watching his.
He almost gives a little 'jolt', as if unused to people asking him questions, or having to come out of his own mind (I could tell even in my drug-induced state that his mind was constantly spinning). He glances at me, then clears his own throat and looks determinedly down at my wrist again. "I'm Donnie," he says to my hand.
I grin a little wider at that, "Short for…" I prod.
He looks up at me this time, and I challenge him with the rise of one eyebrow and a smile- daring him to look away or not answer me.
His eyes flash over my face as he releases my arm slowly, placing it back on the pillow as he registers the mild challenge. He, in turn, graces me with his own close-lipped smile while holding my gaze. "Donatello," he says.
His answer makes me smile enough to reveal some teeth, and he blinks- almost in shock- from it. He re-focuses his attention to the do-hickies attached to his arms, and I take a moment to blink several times while taking some deep breaths through my nose. I hate that it's so hard for me to stay awake right now, and I make a mental note that 'I hate anesthesia' and to try to stay as far away from it as I can in the future.
I notice at that moment how unusually hot I feel. I glance down past my shoulder and see a few blankets stacked on top of me. I go to use my free hand to take them off- I'm really starting to sweat now- but a new hand stops me. I let out a breathy 'hey!' in protest and follow the arm up until I reach the familiar face of Blue-Eyes. He's standing by my hip, on the right of Donatello, his hand a band of iron preventing me from my goal.
His face portrays no emotion, but I know that those blankets won't budge unless he says so. Before I can voice my complaint, he takes a step forward and places a glass of water in front of my face. My eyes fixate on this, and for a moment I forget how hot the blankets are making me. It has a bendy straw so that I don't have to sit up to drink it- which makes me forever grateful, I don't think I could sit up at the moment even if I had wanted to. My hand reaches for the glass, but his doesn't move, so I just lay mine atop of his as I suck down the much-needed water.
Once all the water is gone I relax back into my pillow. I look up at Blue and give him a smile as well. "Thank you," I say. It almost comes out as a whisper, but I know he heard it.
He bows his head a little, then turns to leave. It's at this point that the heat becomes almost overwhelming, and before my brain fully registers what I'm doing, my arm has shot out again and is clumsily trying to remove the blankets from on top of me.
Now it's Donnie who reaches out to try and stop me, but he pauses as something beeps on one of his gadgets. I hear him let out a faint curse a moment later, then he's helping me remove the blankets. I almost sigh in relief before I hear Donnie shouting back at Blue.
"Leo!" He shouts. I'm going to call it safe to assume he means 'Blue'. A moment later, Leo's by Donnie's side.
"She's got an infection and is developing a fever. There's a tray full of syringes on top of my desk, bring it," He says, but Leo has already disappeared.
"What's all the ruckus?" I hear Mikey's voice coming from a corner of the large room, slowly getting louder as he gets closer.
"Mikey, go start filling the tub- cold water only!- and then ask Master Splinter for one of his herbal mixes that would help with infection and fever." He says, glancing at someone behind me as he successfully wrestles the blankets off of my now-shivering body. As soon as the air hits my body I regret my decision of taking off the blankets. The sweat that had started to develop from the heat is now a conduit of helping to freeze the air that touches my skin.
I whimper and try to reach for the blankets bunched up on the floor, but Donnie holds my shoulder down preventing me from moving.
My legs curl up and my body starts to shake in a feeble attempt to keep me warm, even though the back of my mind is reminding me that I do need to cool down to fight this fever. I know this-I'm going to school to be a doctor for crying out loud-, but my brain dismisses the thought, only able to focus on the discomfort.
I force my eyes to stay open throughout all this, so I see the moment that Leo is back and holding a tray. Donnie turns from me to pick up one of the syringes, then returns to crouching in front of me.
"Try and hold still Anna," he says around the needle cap between his lips.
I take deep breaths through my nose and out my mouth, trying to control the shivering. It seems to help some, and I'm so focused on my breathing that I hardly feel the pinch of the needle in my arm. Once all the liquid is injected and the needle is removed, Donnie is back to giving instructions.
"We're going to have to get her into the tub to help her body cool down. Luckily, April brought more than one set of clothes." He says this almost sarcastically, "We need to remove her bandages though and replace it with a water-tight one," He adds, a bit of nervousness in his tone.
"I'll do it!" Shouts the voice of Mikey from a different corner of the room. I see Leo give him a sharp look, which silences him, and then Leo's bending over and tugging up my shirt once again. He only tugs up as high as my bandages go, and then swift hands are undoing the tight strands around my midsection. He's done in a matter of moments, the whole time never taking his eyes off his task, and never touching my skin unless it was clearly unavoidable. With the wad of fabric in his hand, he steps back and leaves my line of vision to make room for Donnie. He approaches quietly, kneeling down to get a better angle to the small puncture wound. I watch through half-closed eyes as he carefully covers the area with a different square bandage, pressing firmly over every side, and then applies some sort of tape as well.
Once he's satisfied with his handiwork he gives it a little nod of satisfaction, then stands. He re-adjusts my shirt so that it's covering me, and then his arms are sliding under my knees and shoulders. He lifts me almost effortlessly, and I automatically curl into the warmth of his chest...well, shell.
I can now see what clothes I'm in- they are not mine, but are definitely female. It looks like a plain blue shirt and some grey cotton shorts, and right now they are doing almost nothing to keep the chill at bay.
I continue to shiver violently, my hands against my chest and my nose pressed into Donnie's shell, eyes shut tight as I feel a strong sense of vertigo that I'm afraid will turn into nausea if I keep them open. My side gives a painful 'twinge' at the sudden pressure and movement, but there's nothing I can do about it now.
I hear the sounds of water and bodies shifting, and for a moment I have flashbacks of some all-to recent memories. They fade though as I hear the familiar voices of Mikey and Leo in the background, and the chill of the air brings me back to the present.
Still shivering uncontrollably, I force my eyes open to look at my new surroundings when I feel the shift in atmosphere and temperature.
It's darker in this room, which I find oddly comforting. There's a slight echo added to the voices that are conversing lowly around us, and I realize that we are in the bathroom. It's more like a guys locker room then any bathroom I'm used to, but it looks and smells clean, and that's all that I can ask for.
There are large shower stalls lining one wall of the spacious room, with shelves of towels and large brushes on the other. On the far side, taking up most of the wall is what looks like a massive jacuzzi, except that it's made of concrete and sits about four feet high and is probably six or seven feet long. A large spigot juts out of the wall above the monstrosity, gushing water into the tub. I shiver a little harder just at the thought of how cold that water must be.
Donnie quickly approaches the mostly-filled tub and gently lowers me over the edge. I can't help it- as soon as I touch the water, I let out an involuntary cry of shock and pain. The water feels like thousands of white-hot knives shooting through me at once, forcing my joints to lock and my breath to come in short gasps, the water almost choking me as some fills my open mouth.
The way Donnie dropped me into the tub, I think he expected me to just lay on my back in the water until it was time for me to get out. My instincts-on the other hand- did not cooperate, and took matters into their own hands.
I instinctively try to righten myself to a standing position, but the shivering, recent near-death experience, and tendrils of anesthesia still in my system made my sense of balance almost laughable. I immediately fall over, taking a surprised gasp when the bandage gives a hard tug at my side, almost stretching my stitches to the point of agony.
Gasping for air while falling over into freezing water is not something I recommend. My head completely submerges, but just as quickly, I'm pulled out again by a strong hand on my upper arm.
I cough and sputter, trying to get rid of the water in my lungs, then blink my eyes until they are clear enough to see the one holding me up. I'm not surprised when I realize that it's Leo.
His eyes scan my face, an almost apprehensive expression on his. I continue to bob slightly in the frigid water, my teeth chattering together and my fingers stiff. Leo seems to make up his mind about something after a moment of watching my reactions and slowly drags me over to the edge of the tub. He guides the arm he's been holding over the lip of the concrete, my head coming to rest on my arm. After making sure I'm secure enough in this position, he releases my arm and steps to the side.
I'm hoping against hope that he's just gone to get a towel and is going to help me out of this torture machine, but he only shifts enough to one side so that he has room to throw his massive leg over and into the tub. Before I can fully register his actions, his other leg is also in the tub, and then he's lowering himself down into the water next to me.
I'm still shaking violently, and my energy has been sufficiently tapped, even after the mini-adrenaline rush I just got from my near-drowning, so I only have the energy and presence of mind to raise one eyebrow in surprise.
He sat himself so that his back is against the far corner of the tub, his legs out in front of him and almost touching the other far side of the tub. Once he's settled, Leo's eyes come up to meet mine. He holds them for a moment, gauging my reaction to this strange turn of events, and then he lifts his hand up out of the water, beckoning me to him.
My eyes shift from his hand and his gaze, understanding slowly dawning. I take a moment to make my decision, but soon my blue-tinged and shaking fingers are reaching for his large green ones. He makes up the difference of the space between us to grasp my hand in his, pulling me from the edge of the tub and into his chest.
I float facing him, and at first I'm confused at how this is going to help anyone, but then I feel his hands gently settle on the middle of my back, helping me to stay securely anchored rather than bobbing all over the place, then pulls me close until my forehead is resting on the shell covering his chest. I bring my arms into my sides and place my hands on the shell in front of me, trying to find whatever little heat I can, then feeling the massively toned muscles of Leo's legs come up on either side of me. Basically, I won't be moving- accidental or not- any time soon.
This is the most intimate embrace I've ever been in, and I'd bet this is Leo's too. If I was in a more normal state of mind, I would probably be as red as a tomato and laughing hysterically at the embarrassing situation, but all I can manage to feel is gratitude at not having to suffer the cold and misery alone. Leo hasn't moved (doesn't feel like he's breathing either) since adjusting our positions, but the cold doesn't even seem to bother him! 'Lucky turtle,' my mind grumbles.
My shaking has not subsided, but I allow myself to relax into the embrace and focus on trying to even out my breathing.
I notice movement out of the corner of my eye, and tilt my head to the side enough to see Mikey leaning against a shower stall door, a smug grin directed at Leo covering his face. He notices that I'm watching him, and fumbles to shove something metallic into a pouch connected to his belt. I'm not able to catch what the device is, and the curiosity is gone before I can really start to wonder what it could have been. He takes a step closer, and his smile dims the longer he looks at me. Annoyance rises at the look, 'I don't want to wallow in everyone's concern', I realize. I clear my throat and call out to him.
Mikey takes another step closer at my call, eyeridge raised and eyes full of concern, his smile all but gone now.
I take in a deep breath, "...I think I have the right...to hear your guys' story," I manage, forcing my lips up into a small smirk.
Mikey's smile returns in full force. I feel Leo shift- but he doesn't utter a word in protest, so Mikey begins the long and complicated story of how the individuals around me ended up as they were.
I see Donnie sitting in a chair in my peripheral, sometimes sitting forward and injecting facts into the animated story Mikey is weaving about evil corporations, mad scientists, and robot samurai, but mostly stays quiet, absorbed in the projections that emerge from his gadgets. My attention never wavers, even when I feel the distant calls of sleep tugging at the edges of my mind, I shove the feelings away as best I can and return my attention to the incredible story-like events. If I wasn't currently snuggled up against one of said 'mutant turtles', I would have written Mikey's tale as one from the mind of an incredibly hyper 8-year-old, but since that's not the case I'm inclined to believe every detail.
Splinter comes into the bathroom during the epic re-telling of a battle with a crazy man named 'Shredder', pausing for a moment to observe the scene before him, his eyes resting on Leo and I for a moment longer than the others. He steps forward though without comment and hands me a small thermostat full of warm liquid. Tearing my gaze away from Mikey, who hasn't stopped talking- even with the new addition to the room-, I reach up a shaking hand to clutch the offered beverage. I'm able to bring it to my lips without dropping the cup, and vaguely wonder at the flavor of tea as I take a sip. It's not unpleasant, but it does leave a strange aftertaste. It warms me though, so I look back up at 'Master Splinter' (Mikey left out no details about who their father was) and give him the best smile I can muster.
"Thank you," I whisper, and slightly bow my head in a gesture that- I hope- conveys my respect and gratitude.
He bows slightly to me as well, and though almost no emotion shows on his face, I have a strange feeling that Splinter approved. Of what- I wasn't exactly sure, but I was glad to have it.
Sooner than I expected, the drink is gone, and the story over. Donnie comes over as soon as Mikey finishes, taking the empty thermos from my limp had and trading it for a thermometer.
"Sorry Anna," he says, "we're going to have to check your temperature often to see how the fever is progressing," he informed me while reaching across the tub to place the device in my ear.
My shivering had mostly subsided since being placed in the tub, but I give an involuntary shudder as the cool metal makes contact with my inner ear, and for a brief moment I feel Leo's arms tighten in response. The flex is so light I can almost believe I imagined it, but I catch a look from Donnie as he looks at Leo, whos head towers over mine. I can't decipher it, but I think Donnie noticed what had happened too.
Before I can over-think the subtle differences in body language and 'turtle-eye-conversations', the thermometer 'beep's, breaking my train of thought.
Donnie checks the reading and 'hmm's in response. "Your temperature is coming down nicely," he says, his lips forming a small satisfied grin, "Another hour in the tub, and I can almost positively say your fever will be gone!" he adds while cleaning the thermometer and placing it in a box on the floor by his vacated chair.
I groan in disappointment and lightly bang my forehead against Leo's shell, ignoring my slightly still-chattering teeth and immobile fingers. I hear an almost inaudible release of breath that sounds remarkably close to a chuckle from above me, but I don't have the energy to look and see if I really did make Leo laugh. Instead, I focus my eyes on the whirling texture of shell in front of me. I force my pointer finger to move, and lightly trace the designs, my eyes following the movements.
Time seems to move at a snail's pace now that I don't have Mikey's energetic voice to keep me entertained. I feel my eyes drifting shut, and this time I have no reason to stop them. I know Leo won't let me drown, and I have time to kill.
I shift a bit to get into a slightly more comfortable position, and soon my cheek is back to resting against Leo's shell, my hands pressed tightly between my chest and his. Allowing my eyes to drift closed, I see both Mikey and Donnie make their way out the bathroom door (and I could have sworn that I saw a flash of red too) but I'm too far gone to care that now it's just me and Leo, holding each other in a bathtub, alone.
'Hopefully, this won't be the last time we have some alone time,' I find myself thinking drowsily. And then, everything fades into a gentle 'hum' in the background of my mind.
Heyyo. I don't really know where I'm going with this, but I had this idea and I thought 'why the heck not?' if anyone has any ideas for a really good angst/character building/lovey-dovey pg13 chapter, let me know ;) I have some ideas about where I'd like this to go, but everyone knows that in writing, it's never a straight shot to the ending.