Verge of Tangibility - Chapter Fourteen
Disclaimer: If I owned ninja turtles, fast forward would have never existed.
Warning: Turtles are close, and maybe some hints of slash, but that's mainly just so I can treat them like scary movie characters and make them split up like retards...
Donatello maybe got three hours of sleep before an obnoxious Michelangelo started jumping his shell about Leonardo's condition. Granted, he had not meant to fall asleep on the desk, but sometimes what the body wants, the body gets.
"He's still not awake, Donnie!" Michelangelo's high pitched voice was definitely unwelcome this morning.
Donatello pondered. His brother had been asleep for over twenty-four hours. It could be just as good of a sign as bad. Good, for perhaps the body was healing itself, and bad because he seeped into something beyond unconscious. He groaned as he finally stood, his body protesting the few hours of sleep he had the last few nights.
"Calm down, Mikey." Donatello yawned as he spoke. He hated to sound so nonchalant about the situation.
"You want breakfast? Coffee? Toast? Anything you want, Don!" Michelangelo rambled into hyper active mode, throwing Donatello off his balance to avoid the younger brother's sudden urge to attach to the genius's shell.
"Yeah. That'd be great, Mikey." Donatello smiled awkwardly as the other turtle bounced towards the door.
"Great. I'll get food. You fix Leo." Michelangelo was nervous. There was no hiding it. But he was trying to do something. Anything to help.
A few hours later, Donatello was clacking at his keyboard, using all of his collected information to compare to cases on the internet. If anything was going to save the day, it was Google, and the slew of medical research sites he had previously found his way into.
At some point in the morning, his father had entered his room, shyly questioning his son's progress. After some small talk about the few things that Leonardo could be suffering from, and how medicating any one of them would hurt him if he was not actually diagnosed correctly, Donatello changed the subject to something less nerve-racking.
"How is Raphael doing? I've already ran into Mikey." Raphael. Only a little less offensive to his stress level, but still lower, none the less.
Splinter's whiskers twitched. Never a good sign. "I have not had the pleasure of his company this morning." He did not favor his sons oversleeping.
Donatello raised an eyebrow but shrugged and took a bite of a cookie off of one of the three plates of random snacks Michelangelo brought into his room as various points of the day. He neglected to mention Raphael's storming out. He would coax his brother out personally, since his crossness with his brother probably led to his absence anyway.
"I'll check on him, Sensei." Donatello presented a guilty smile and Splinter waited for an explanation. "I kind of bit his head off last night. I need to apologize."
Splinter nodded his head and allowed his son room as he stood from his chair. "We are all worried. He will understand." Splinter began to dismiss himself but turned back around. "Send him to lunch when you are finished with him. Michelangelo has prepared much more than necessary for all of us."
"Yes, Sensei." Donatello bowed his head slightly, grabbed a plate of cookies meant to be a peace offering, and took off for the door down the walkway.
He knocked quietly. Each brother had a particular knock. Whether he meant to or not, he just told Raphael who was outside. Hopefully that would not effect his decision to answer.
"Raph?" Donatello spoke the hothead's name and knocked quietly again. Still no answer. "Raphael. Answer me, please. Or I am coming in." His threat was not much of a threat, and it did not do the trick. There was no response.
And quietly, just as he promised, Donatello opened the door to his brother's room. Light shined past him, and the room was obviously empty.
…Raphael had not come home. He walked in anyway, shuffled through the dark room, making sure his brother was not going to great lengths to avoid him by actually hiding. No such luck. Raphael was not there.
The door crept almost shut behind him and Donatello went back to his research. As he worked, he wished he had not gone looking for Raphael, else he would have not have noticed his missing presence. It bugged him, but finding a cure was more important at the moment than finding Raphael.
By early that evening, Donatello was positive Leonardo was going to be okay. And he finally had a solid theory. It was time to administer some sort of care. Except he had no medicine or anything called for in his printed medical reports.
He took the opportunity to stretch his legs, walking through the lair as he made the call to April. He requested mainly antibiotics if she could find them, gave her how many, what prescriptions would work, and what dosage. He also added a side request of particular instruments that would help him drain the fluids that he accumulated under Leonardo's skin. An unpleasant job, but somebody had to do it.
Donatello exhaustedly smiled at his father when he got off the shell cell with April. With confidence, he said Leonardo was going to be okay. "Leonardo sustained a head injury," he started, leaving out the part where both Leonardo and Raphael knew about it and neglected to tell him. "And though there was no sign of impact or possible route for infection, the injured tissue below his skin still became contaminated. I would estimate for a while now. It's rare, and makes detection very difficult. His body was trying to fight it, so was running a high fever. That easily explains his behavior. It's a sort of illness, brought on by high fever from infections so close to the brain. It's dangerous. But curable." Donatello felt a little awkward, sounding like a doctor. He subconsciously rubbed the back of his head once the speech was over.
"I called April. She will do what she can. He really needs medicine, though. His body will not cure on his own." Donatello added less positive than before.
"Donatello. Will there be any permanent damage?" Splinter gravely asked.
There was a delay and his father's expression sunk before he even had the chance to answer him. Because it took him a second to firmly decide his answer. "I don't know."
Splinter sighed, but perked up just a little. "I have faith in your abilities, my son."
Donatello nodded with the compliment. "Thank you, Father." He looked around for a moment and then back to his master. "I am going to see if there is anything else I can do."
As Donatello was stepping away, he abruptly stopped when Splinter spoke again. "Raphael has yet to come home." Donatello internally cringed.
"I know, Father," was the only thing he could think to say as he slowly began his trek towards Michelangelo's room.
He knocked to make his presence known as he crept through the door. There, Michelangelo sat like a very tired, but loyal soldier by Leonardo's side. He peaked up at Donatello but went back to staring at Leonardo once the door slid closed.
"I made him dinner. Just in case he wakes up." Michelangelo broke the silence. Donatello wondered how he could have ever been angry with him.
Donatello yawned and Michelangelo soon followed. "Mikey, you could go to bed." He urged for Michelangelo to move over, so that he could give Leonardo a decent look over and change some of his bandages.
"I don't want to leave him." Michelangelo's drowsy eyes were barely awake though, and Donatello realized he would probably have to put his foot down on this one.
"Well Leonardo's trying to rest, too. So maybe he could use a few hours without disturbance." Donatello wrapped a new bandage around Leonardo's wounded shoulder.
"You serious?" Michelangelo's expression was disbelief. Not sad or angry for being asked to leave, but he was actually surprised.
"Yes, Mikey." Donatello smiled though, to rule out any possibilities Michelangelo thought he was being malicious. "Just a few hours. It will do you both some good."
Michelangelo stretched his arms above his head. "What if he wakes up, though."
"You can sleep in here, Mikey. I just want to see your eyes closed." Donatello pointed at the floor. "Take a break. Go steal Leo's blankets and camp out on the floor here."
"I'm not really that sleepy." Michelangelo failed to prove his point as he yawned through his entire sentence.
"Afraid I will have to insist, Mikey." Donatello's voice was no louder, but had a slight edge to it. He was going to turn into Dr. Donatello if Michelangelo refused to cooperate.
"Dude, I'm going." Michelangelo stood and wobbled his way over to the door.
Donatello watched him leave and continued to check and rebind Leonardo's injuries. He placed a clean wash cloth on his forehead and placed a blanket over his brother.
Half an hour past and Michelangelo had yet to return. Getting to his feet, Donatello slowly made his way to the door. For the first time since the discovery of an unconscious Leonardo, he was drenched in darkness. Donatello clicked the light off, but left the door open so a shred of light illuminated the corner of the room.
It was lonely. He had no laboratory to dwindle his extra time, no Michelangelo to harass him, and his father was most likely already asleep. He smiled to himself, assuming Michelangelo had fallen asleep in Leonardo's bed, rather than just gather the blankets. Honestly, he could not blame the turtle. A bed was always preferred over a cement floor.
He relaxed in Splinter's chair for a moment to ponder what to do next. The living room was a cozy dim instead of brilliantly bright as per usual. Thanks to Leonardo's anti-light expedition. Sighing, he stared at the wall where the televisions used to be; the crumbled pile now brushed off to the side of those missing sets. And all the work he would have to do in the near future. Back to normal…
His body jumped when he realized he dozed off. He hoped it had only been a few minutes. He felt stiff now; uncomfortable as his body had relaxed, but still was not pleased with the amount of rest it obtained. Donatello nothing short of forced himself out of the chair and yawned a few times in protest.
He eyed the lair and was thankful it looked exactly the same as the last time he gazed upon it. He wandered into the kitchen, stealing a cookie from the fridge as he passed it. He groaned quietly to himself through his chewed up cookie when the clock illuminated 3:14. That was definitely more than a few minutes.
He remembered telling Michelangelo he would wake him up, but the poor turtle really did need sleep. He yawned again as he passed back into the living room. Leonardo's door shut on the second level. It was quiet, but he caught the movement. So Michelangelo was awake. He probably checked to see that Leonardo was still there and went back to sleep. Good.
Donatello thought he would do the same and slinked over to Michelangelo's door. He peaked his head inside, seeing Leonardo's silhouette on the bed. "Leo?" He questioned the darkness. Nothing responded but a faint dripping sound. He shrugged and looked towards the stairs.
He passed by his door, thinking of the mess he needed to clean up later. As he passed Raphael's door, he paused. It was closed, where as he had left it open. He gathered the courage it would take to walk through Raphael's door and lowly knocked. Of course there was no answer, but that at least meant he was probably asleep or ignoring him. His presence would not be such a surprise. Slowly, Donatello creaked open the door, moved in, and closed it behind him.
He heard Raphael's soft breathing and felt instantly relieved that the hothead had come home. Then he was guilty. For being the reason he left in the first place. Maybe he had overreacted, and Raphael would never intentionally endanger anyone. "Raph?"
He crept closer to the hammock where his brother slept. Okay, so waking up his brother was a jerk thing to do, but it was better than Raphael taking off before he was able to make amends. He placed his hand on the hothead's shoulder and slightly shook it. "Raph?"
"Sorry to wake you; you don't have to talk. Just listen to me, please." Donatello started. His speech fell flat as he realized his recipient was still snoozing away. "Come on, Raph. I know you hear me." Leonardo and Raphael were both extremely light sleepers. He was astounded he had not been noticed at the door. He shook the body again, with a little more force.
"Five more minutes…" Donatello distinctly heard the voice of his youngest brother. Michelangelo rolled his head further under the blanket.
"Mikey?" Donatello lifted the blanket from his brother's head, causing a slew of protests. "What are you doing in Raph's room?"
Michelangelo groaned, and adjusted himself without the blanket displaying no intentions to get up. "…I missed him." Michelangelo said rather pathetically.
His brother was such a baby. Donatello threw the blanket back on the turtle, but froze half way when he was adjusting it. "If you are in here. Who is in Leo's room?"
"…didn't wanna sleep in Leo's room." Michelangelo slurred.
Donatello inspected the door as if it was programmed to detonate. A shadow passed briefly through the light from under the door. Donatello stepped towards it, but Michelangelo's hand slapped across his wrist.
"How is Leo doing?"
"Still asleep. Didn't you just check on him?" Donatello spoke to his brother but never took his eyes off the light seeping in from the outside.
"Uh. No?" Michelangelo sat up in the hammock. "You feeling okay, Donnie?"
Donatello's brain analyzed the situation and he calmed down. Raphael must have come home, saw Michelangelo in his bed, and took Leonardo's room instead. No big deal. "Never better." Donatello's voice returned to normal and he freed himself from Michelangelo's grip.
"Sorry for waking you." Donatello calmly said on his way out the door. He heard Michelangelo rustling behind him, out of the hammock. Well so much for him getting any sleep.
"It's cool, dude."
Donatello snuck out the door and closed it behind him. At least Raphael was awake. Now he would not have the extra guilt of waking him. And the risk of injury. Quietly, he tiptoed to Leonardo's room and tapped on the door.
"Raph. Are you in there?" He whispered. No answer. Frankly, he was getting tired of doors. He quietly threatened to walk in if he received no answer, and he was good on his threat. He opened the door, illuminating Leonardo's plain room. No sign of life.
"Hey Donnie." Donatello clinched his fist rather than jump out of his skin. Ninjas were too freaking quiet. "Whatcha doin?" Michelangelo was behind him now, and they peered into the empty room together.
"Nothing." Donatello copped out, rather than explain how he tore into Raphael the night before. Quietly, he backed up, passed Michelangelo and hit the railing again. Michelangelo lingered in Leonardo's room.
Donatello descended the stairs, eyeing the kitchen and living area for the hothead. Since when was Raphael such a ninja? He felt five years old, playing a game of hide and seek. And he very much disliked feeling like a child again. He quickly checked the dojo, his laboratory, and any other common place his brother often occupied. No luck.
As he passed by Michelangelo's room, he slowed. Perhaps Raphael was paying their eldest brother a visit. He slowly opened the door and let a dim light flood the opposite corner of the bed. He only saw one figure sprawled out on the bed where he had left it. "Leo?" He tested to see if his brother would respond. Silence.
Almost silent. Except for that drip again. Donatello rolled his eyes, picturing Michelangelo spilling a soda and not bothering to clean it up. Or maybe Leonardo had toppled over a glass trying to move. "I'm turning on the light." He said to the darkness, just in case Leonardo was conscious but unmoving and unwilling to talk. He would hate to blind him.
He flipped the switch but nothing happened. Up. Down. Up. Down. Nothing. He sighed and moved into the room.
Crunch. "Ugh." Donatello lifted his foot and cursed his luck. Twice now, he stepped in glass and… glass? Hastily, he removed the shards and stepped aside, tripping over toys and Michelangelo's possessions rather than impaling his foot again.
Step. Trip. Snag. Tangle. Step. Puddle. Well Donatello successfully discovered both the cup its spilled contents in the dark. What a great ninja he was.
He felt along the dresser next to the bed where he knew he placed towels earlier. And he was right. He threw one down to the ground and mopped up with his foot, still hearing that accursed drip. Feeling for another towel, he found his flashlight. And he shined some light on the situation.
And jumped back immediately, landing in a pile of Michelangelo's treasures. "What the…"
He straightened the flashlight forward. And watched the red droplets steadily fall to the floor on the white towel he just laid under them.
He glanced at his own feet and hands, outlined in blood. "Oh god." He leaped back to his feet and moved in, wanting to see how badly Leonardo had hurt himself. The turtle was still strapped to the bed, though. All ropes seemed intact. A knife, exactly like the one each of them possessed, gleamed from the closest arm. In that arm. Dripping his essence to the floor.
And that pained, comatose face was not Leonardo's.
"Raph! Oh Raph. Oh god." Donatello frantically grabbed for towels and bandages like he was going to use them all at once. No good. He needed to calm down. He needed to calm down to save his brother. Partially to ease himself, but mostly to help Raphael, Donatello squeezed his hand. "Raph…" He continued to work with his free hand for the moment.
Raphael started mumbling something. So he was not unconscious after all. Donatello tried to comfort him with calm words to the best of his ability. He needed help. He needed Splinter. He need- … where was Leonardo? Mikey…
Donatello did not want to leave Raphael, but he needed Splinter. He yelled for him but no one came fast enough. He screamed for Michelangelo but the room was not suddenly overshadowed by another presence in the doorway. So he opted to go. But as he tried to depart, if only for a minute, Raphael's hand tightened and he could not bring himself to pull away.
His eyes were still closed. He was still bleeding. But he was speaking. Trying to tell Donatello something. And so he leaned in, shivering, to hear what his brother was trying to say.
"Close your eyes… an count to… seven. When you… wake, you'll be… in heaven."
Haha, cheesy, i know i know. but i love scary movie quotes! =oD and you are totally disoriented when you're losin' blood. you can trust me.