Open Window to Reality
Chapter 3: Fire of the Mind
--
Oh dear Lord.
For a second, he could only stare in horrified shock at his younger brother. In his mind, he was frightened to get any closer than he already was to Don. But within the second, all thought of keeping his distance fled his mind and he bolted as fast as his druggy legs could carry him. He felt as though he was running on air, nearly gasping aloud again as his legs gave out as he reached Don's side and dropped like a leaden stone beside his brothers body. He couldn't make out chest movement in the limited light, so he reached out and located his brother's slender arm, and gasped with sudden relief when he deteched a faint, but readable pulse.
Good God, how had they gotten here? Where was here? There were vauge, fuzzy memories of a conflict, a fight, maybe? He couldn't remember. He reached about his waist, searching for his sais, and let loose an huff of frustrated air as he discovered, expectedly, that they were gone. He'd have to rely on his brains to get the two of them out of this obviously dangerous situation, and that fact made his stomach sink. It figured he and Don were here, stuck with the smartest of their squad, and he couldn't do a thing. But that was assuming Leo and Mikey weren't nearby as well, and he hoped to God that they weren't. Bad enough the two of them were here. His other brother's, he hoped, were out there looking for them.
A quiet moan drew Raph from his mumbled thoughts and back to the current problem at hand.
As slow as he could manage, he drew Don's smaller form into his lap, settling his head in the crook of his arm as he was able to feel the temors coarsing through his body. Don was either really cold, or in a lot of pain, and Raph pleaded with his mind for the former, but knew that it was unlikely. The unknown man's cruel voice haunted in the back of his mind, dripping with a sneering, self confidence.
You just wait till I get outta here, buddy. The anger kindling in his mind for their one known captor (there had to be other's, right? No one-man show could have orchestrated this...) was like a hot fire, burning through any rational thoughts and leaving his eyes red and his mind black. For a moment, he forgot the damp, dark, cold of the cell, his brother's slight breath, his own fatigue, and saw the firery depths of his own mind emerge from the black, flashing like the lights of the city in front of his unfocused eyes. It was something to lose himself in, occupy the blank, and he drifted for a moment in the liquid fire, which seemed so much more soothing than the frigid reality he knew was awaiting him. And he knew that he couldn't wait for long.
A long shudder from below caught his attention and doused the fire like a bucket of water. His heart turned to ice, and he finally took a good, long, look at his brother.
His body was clearly battered, and from the feel of it, exhausted. It had sunk in Raph's arms like a ton of lead, but at the same time, was thin and light. Don had always been the smallest and the lighest, a tribute to his eating habits which tendered to be more conservative than that of his other brothers, but never like this. He might have always been slight, lighter, but he was always healthy. The numerous cuts and brusies that he could feel was a slight cause for worry as well, as there was many of them, but it wasn't what troubled him the most.
What currently had his highest attention, and widest horror, was the two large gashs, one on the right arm and one on the left leg, that were still bleeding freely. And looked as though they had been for some time.
Sweet forces...
He gingerly reached a trembling hand down, tracing the curve of the gash, trying to gauge the seriousness of the inflicted injury. They were extremly similar, solidifiying his belief that they were purposely inflicted. Both were roughly eight to ten inches long (good God, that large?...), and, as much as Raph was fighting to admit it, deep. Deep and roughly cut, jagged edges, and from the warm, wet feeling that was spreading from where his hand probed the wound, bleeding steadily. He sucked in a quick breath, trying to gather his wits, think of a plan, a course of action, a way to get them out of her, stop the bleeding, make Don wake up, anything.
He'd settle for the last one, though. Gently, he tipped his younger brother's head back for they were face to face, and wished feverently for Don to just open his eyes. Come on Donnie, ya know I'm not good at crap like this, ya know it and your a doin it just to make me freak out and you can laugh, come on Donnie, I'm not the brains here, you are, I need you to wake up, come on Don, come on...
"Donnie?"
His soft, almost, almost, shaky voice sounded foreign even to himself. You're really gonna scare the crap outta Don, you moron. He's really gonna think something's gone wrong...
And he was both delighted and mortified to see Don's soft brown, familiar, and yet horribly confused and pain-filled eyes, force open and fix on him.
--
A/N: I am a horrible person for not having updated this in....*cringe*...months? Lots and lots of months. *cringe again and slink away* Just, read and review? And don't kill me. My new horse is taking up WAY too much of my time. Blame her. :)