If Don hadn't hit the peak of exhaustion before, talking with the surgeon had certainly finished the job.

The minute Glurin wheeled him into the office, it felt like all the air had been crushed out of his lungs. It was dark, just like every other part of the ship he's seen, but small and unwelcomingly bare. At the far end of the room was a station of monitors that emitted a weird, greenish glow. As Glurin left them to their privacy, his sense of foreboding only grew.

Leo's surgeon, a crimson-colored utrom who had introduced himself as Dr. Obligado, was obviously a brilliant doctor, but had a bedside manner that left much to be desired. Don had wanted to ask him everything, to learn things about their anatomy and physiology that he never had the chance to with the resources he normally had available. But the good doctor was stern, hardly looking up from his work tapping on the monitors as he prattled on about what was important while disregarding his less relevant questions.

It had all boiled down to this: their species was completely distinct from the lifeforms the utroms were accustomed to treating. Luckily, during their time spent on Earth, Obligado and his fellow scientists had managed to study the biology of native organisms in staggering depth. Reptiles, insects, but mainly mammals. He had treated many humans in the past, mostly the guardians of his stranded race, with a fusion of modern Earth and utrom medicines.

But Donatello and his family were biological anomalies. They could use all the modified practices they learned through centuries of working with humans, but there was no way of knowing how mutant turtle bodies would react to medications. There were no studies on healing process or wound management. No charts or textbooks to refer to while trying to steer clear of vital organs. They were flying almost as blindly as he usually was.

It isn't a good feeling. As he watched the utrom flit between the screens of his work station, his hands grew clammy and it was getting harder to breathe. His constant faith in utrom science is what had gotten him this far without a nervous breakdown. But to hear that even the utrom where in the dark...

Just as panic is rising like floodwaters in his chest, Obligado takes a thoughtful pause, his red eyes piercing through the pallid monitor glow.

"However," he continues, "I have a colleague who is far better versed in your type of species variant. She has spent many years researching the mutagenic effects of utrom chemical waste on your planet's fauna."

It isn't the reassurance he'd been hoping for, but it's more than he'd been expecting. He forces himself to take a breath.

"Where is she now?"

"She is with your brother, Raphael. We are hoping her knowledge will be an asset during his procedure and recovery."

Don nods once, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. It had felt like a dream, actually having the luxury of real doctors, real medical equipment, actual medicine that went beyond sewing his family together with fishing line and boiled needles. Staving off infection with nothing but Tylenol and a prayer.

It was so easy to believe that the utroms could do anything. With all their technology, they should be able to do everything. And it kills him to realize that even the utroms have their limitations. That even after they were scooped up from the edge of oblivion, brought onto this ship like some kind of miracle, it still wasn't enough. Even with all these resources right at their fingertips, what they are still kept them from getting what they need.

For a moment, he just lets himself go. Grief, self-pity, worry, frustration… it all washes over him like cold water deep enough to crush his bones. He presses his hand to his forehead and breathes, feeling the doctor's eyes on him and not giving a single damn about it. The utrom waits in silence until he gathers himself away from the verge of tears, takes a shuddering breath, rubs his face and moves on like nothing happened.

"I guess you don't have any news on how that's going."

"Unfortunately, I don't," Obligado says, his attention drifting back to the monitors. "But I can tell you whatever you need to know about Leonardo's condition."

"Okay," he thinks aloud. Then it's time to ask questions. "Is he still getting a blood transfusion?"

"Not blood," the doctor corrects cooly, "A synthetic blood replacement. And yes, he's currently receiving his second unit. It should be his last, but we will be monitoring him closely overnight for any changes."

"And there hasn't been any reaction?"

"Nothing more than a slight elevation of his body temperature. It's a very common side-effect."

All right. So far so good, but his heart gives a nervous flutter when he shifts to a more pressing subject. "Glurin had mentioned something about nerve damage."

"Ah, yes," the utrom says, his metallic fingers still clicking away. "For now it is too soon to tell, but there is a chance his injuries will have lasting effects on the use of that arm."

"So it's just a possibility."

"Correct."

"Good." He can hardly keep the relieved smile off his face. It's too soon to celebrate. They still have a long road ahead of them. But he can't help feeling his hopes lift even as his expectations remain grounded. "So how long does he have?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Leo isn't exactly the type who does well standing still," he clarifies, this time allowing himself a wry smile that's born of a fond type of frustration more than anything. "Usually I have to threaten to sedate him before I can convince him to take it easy. Injured or not, he'll want out of that hospital bed the second he can walk out of there."

"I see," Obligado says, clearly unimpressed. "If he does well overnight, he should be able to be discharged tomorrow evening. Though healing may take several months. He will have to, as you say, take it easy until then."

"Okay," Don says for what feels like the thirteenth time that evening. As if saying the word would make it so. He can already see himself fighting with Leo to keep him from pushing it too far too fast, but he'll reach that hurdle when he comes to it. "I know I'm not a doctor, but I've spent a lot of time having to act as one. And I've done a lot of research. If there's anything I can do…"

"Then perhaps I should start at the beginning," the utrom says, his needle-like fingers ghosting over another monitor. This time he brings up several projected images of his brother's injured shoulder as he begins describing Leo's procedure in depth.

Usually, Don was never the type to have trouble focusing. If anything, he had trouble un-focusing whenever something piqued his interest. But listening to the utrom talk about tendons and ligaments, ligating blood vessels, repairing muscle, and explaining a diagram of Leo's shattered scapula before and after surgery was far less interesting than he first expected. Though he still asked plenty of questions, he only half-listened to the answers.

After all the research he's done on both human and turtle anatomy, all the studying he's managed on his own body and his family's, every book and medical journal he's read, he knows he should be fascinated. If he wasn't stressed out, worried sick, and still hopped up on some pretty mean muscle relaxers, he'd be perfectly elated for the learning opportunity. But right now, all he can really think about is when they'll let him see Leo.

By the time Glurin returns and they're finally wheeling him toward his brother's room, a headache has started blossoming behind his eyes. But he doesn't care. It's just an exercise in mind over matter. He has to stop thinking about how heavy his head feels, how the muscle relaxers make his whole body feel like oatmeal. He has to hold on to the massive ball of stress tieing his stomach in knots, keep thinking of his brothers, of Master Splinter floating in stasis in that biosuspension chamber, and how much they all need him right now.

He can do this.

As they wheel him into the recovery room, he's caught off guard by a frantic bolt of fear that has him wishing he could sprint to his brother's side. Leo looks bad. He's not sure what he'd been expecting. The surgeon had spent all that time explaining it to him, and he thought he'd be prepared. It's not like he hasn't seen Leo beat to an inch of his life before. But seeing him so pale and covered in bandages, a nest of tubes and wires tangled all over him rattles something inside him.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath, forcing down that increasingly familiar feeling of panic rising in his throat as Glurin pushes him to Leo's bedside and leaves him there. For a while, he just stares at the fresh bruises blossoming on his sleeping brother's deathly pale face, completely dumbstruck until he starts distracting himself with studying the equipment around him instead. He doesn't realize Leo had been watching him until his voice startles him out of his reverie.

"...Don?"

It doesn't sound right, too young and slow and thick with sleep, but it overwhelms him with relief. For the first time that night, he spares a genuine smile.

"Yeah, Leo, it's me. Man, am I glad to see you."

"Mm..." Leo tries to shift, a pained noise catching in his throat that makes him wince. "Hurts."

Don's smile grows a little tighter. "I know. You hurt your shoulder pretty badly."

"No…" Leo slurs drunkenly, trying to shake his head clear and blinking groggily in Don's general direction. "The… thing. Went through. She put it through."

"Your sword?"

"Yeah..." Squinting at the ceiling, his face screws up like he smells something foul. "Did we get eaten?"

If it weren't for the circumstance, Donny might've laughed. He's kind of glad he didn't take Mikey along. "No, we're on an Utrom starship."

"Oh. That explains the… things."

And just like that, his eyes are closed again. His expression relaxes, head lolling to the side like he's instantly fallen back asleep. "I'm really tired," he mumbles.

Don's hand drifts to his brother's uninjured arm, just a gentle touch to ground him. It's still hard to believe this is real. Seeing Leo in a hospital bed, with IVs and monitors and everything he could ever need. As terrifying as this all has been, it warms his heart to see it. To know that for once, his brother isn't languishing in the sewers with nothing but Splinter's herbal remedies to help him. He would've given the shell off his back to have had this the night he came crashing through April's window. Those nights spent at the farmhouse with Leo in a coma as he battled the fever threatening to boil his brother alive was one of the worst moments of his life.

"You can go back to sleep," he says quietly. "You need your rest."

"I can't sleep," Leo whispers shakily, eyes still closed. The unbridled fear in his voice makes his brother's insides turn to ice. "I think I'm…" His breath hitches as tries to shift again. "I'm still dreaming."

Don's grip tightens on his brother's arm. "You're not dreaming. The utroms saved us before the blast. We made it out."

Silence ticks by unbidden, and Leo only lets out a shaky breath that rattles in his chest. Still, his eyes don't open, but Donny knows he isn't asleep. He's afraid. After what they went through, who can blame him? Waking up sedated and confused on an utrom starship after almost blowing your whole family to pieces is no picnic. And as exhausted as he is, Don has no problem staying with him. After all the times Leo has been there when he was afraid, helped him talk through his nightmares and all his worst fears, he will always be there to return the favor.

He slowly traces his thumb over his brother's mottled skin, letting himself absorb the fact that he's here. He can touch him, be with him after all the terror that had happened on the ship. Fractured memories of just hours before flashing through his head, the smell of blood pooling like an ocean under his brother's still body...

"Mikey said hi, by the way," he remembers suddenly, shaking his head clear and trying to ease his racing heart. For now, he chooses to omit the more emotional message. That's better left for later when Mikey can tell him himself. Right now, he's too emotionally drained to talk about things like that. It's been hard enough to keep it together already.

Leo's eyes slide open again, hazily focusing on a random spot of the room. "Hi, Mikey…"

All right, so maybe it is a little funny to see Leo doped up like this, but Don doesn't have the heart to laugh at his expense. Not now, anyway. Not when he's this weak.

"No, he's not here now. He's resting, but he'll be here later. He's pretty mad he couldn't make it."

"Oh." Leo closes his eyes again, his head rolling sideways to face him. His brow is furrowed with concern. "Where is he?"

"Just a little ways down the hall."

"Where's Raph?"

"Still in surgery."

"Where's Master Splinter?"

"He's…" Don hesitates. Now really isn't the time to start talking about their mostly dead father. Leo has the right to know what's going on, but not so soon after losing more than half his blood volume. "He's getting taken care of."

"Ask him to come here…," he moans, closing his eyes again. "My arm hurts. And I want some… some tea..."

"I don't think you're supposed to drink anything yet. You're still pretty out of it."

"Jus' a glass of water, then?" He asks innocently.

This time, Don has to stifle a snort. Part of him wishes he had a camera to record this and play back later, but he knows he could never be quite that cruel. "Not yet. I'm sure they'll give you something as soon as you're ready."

"Oh," he slurs, still not bothering to open his eyes again. "Okay."

Then Leo goes quiet again, and this time, Don's sure he's fallen back asleep. The minute he starts thinking of getting back to Mikey, Leo's eyes open again, giving him a strange, drug-induced smile.

"Hi, Donny."

"Hi, Leo."

He frowns as his watery gaze rests lazily on his brother's cast. "You hurt your arm."

"Not as badly as you did."

"Sorry."

"For what?" He wonders, growing more concerned when his brother tilts his head away, refusing to answer. "Leo, you have nothing to be sorry about."

"I... made everyone die. I didn't mean to make everyone… die."

Don's heart plunges like a rock, watching the emotions wash unrestrained across his brother's face. Pain, sadness, anger. Even through the drug-muddled haze, there's a hardness in his eyes Don has never seen before, and wishes he never will again.

"No one died, Leo." He reaches for his brother's arm again, trying to catch his eyes, but Leo keeps his gaze glued the wall beside him. "The Utroms found us in time. I told you that. They put a stasis bubble around us right before the blast."

"It… blew up. I said to blow it up. It was my idea." He growls, teeth bared in an angry grimace. His arm wrenches away from under Don's hand, grabbing at the bandages wrapped around his injured shoulder. "I couldn't..."

Donny's shoulders slump. Figures, he thinks. It's like Leo's hardly been conscious for five minutes and he's already blaming himself for what happened. He only wishes he wasn't well beyond his emotional capacity for the day. He should say something reassuring, try to convince Leo that there isn't anything to blame him for, try to make him understand. But arguing with Leo when he's drugged to the gills and on one of his guilt trips is a trial in patience he just isn't feeling up to at the moment.

"Don't touch it," Don chides with a little more aggravation than he intended. When he reaches forward he almost collapses face-first into the side of the bed before he can gently pry his brother's hand away. Luckily Leo is as weak as a kitten. He doesn't even try to fight.

Trying to ease his growing irritation, Don sinks back into the wheelchair with a sigh, pinching the skin between his eyes in a lame attempt to relieve some of the pressure there. "I know you want to beat yourself up over this, but you really do need to rest. We'll talk about this later, okay?"

Leo doesn't answer, only stares glassily into an abyss only he can see. When he refuses to say anything or even look at him, Don calls Glurin back and silently leaves him to his brooding. He just doesn't have the energy for this right now, and his head is killing him.

Maybe all Leo needs is time to sort things out, he thinks. Hopes. There's nothing else he can do.

Still, the anger written on his brother's face haunts him like a ghost.