The dream came more often now, now that his body was weak with illness and fever and fatigue. It seemed he lived half in the waking world and half in the dream. Gather up four turtles, take them back to the den, pick one up with tiny rat paws and turn it over and over, think long and hard about the best way to penetrate the hard shell and get at the tasty morsel inside.
Look up into the eyes of the fifth, and come to yourself with your son's head in your mouth.
Wake, breathing hard.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Don couldn't stand it anymore.
"I'll be at April's," he informed his brothers. "Make sure Splinter is drinking all his broth. Call me if his condition changes."
"Donnie," Mike croaked. Don looked down at him. He looked terrible, and not just from the illness. "Take me with you?"
No joking about being a chaperone. No smiles. No laughter. Just the plea.
"Sure," Don said after a long moment. "Why not?"
Mike sighed in relief.
She didn't ask, and for that he was grateful. Maybe she just assumed it was for Mike's sake, who helped that assumption by breezing past her at the door and making it to the bathroom just in time to heave his breakfast all over the floor in front of the toilet. Don gave April a look of sympathy and apology, and she gave him a warm smile in return. Maybe she just assumed Don was tired of caring for his family, and he helped that assumption by collapsing on the couch beside Mike after cleaning up his puke and helping him rinse his mouth out. April put a blanket over both of them and smoothed their foreheads with her warm hand. Maybe she just assumed there was family trouble of some kind, and his other brothers helped that assumption by calling her a few hours later. He could tell by her tone that she was telling them not to come over, that she could take care of them, that everything would be fine and they'd come home when they were ready.
Most of all, though, he was grateful she didn't ask after Splinter. Because he knew his non-answer would destroy all her wonderful assumptions.