Donatello frowned at the test tube in his hand and shook the mysterious contents. The mass of dark red sludge jiggled a little before sinking to the bottom of the suspension.
"What am I looking at?" Don asked, throwing a puzzled glance over his shoulder to where the other white lab-coated mutant was working.
"That," the large crocodile said in a deep southern drawl, "is what happens to your girl's blood when mixed with the common human variants."
Donatello blanched, his face turning a paler green. "Even the O neg?"
Leatherhead shrugged.
"It is not so violent a trigger as the others, but still incompatible. No wonder she has not awakened. She is weak from the loss of her own precious blood and the transfusions will destroy many of her remaining healthy cells. Has she displayed any other symptoms?"
Don consulted his phone, checking the latest photo Raphael sent of her hospital chart.
"Fever, shivering, and a slight yellowing of the skin."
"Ack, the girl, she is in danger. The more they transfuse her the worse she will become."
Donatello set the test tube down and rubbed his eyes. Two days had passed since Raph claimed Morgan was mentally aware, but neither Don nor the doctors confirmed his findings. The sort of physical sonar Raph described as evidence was something Donatello himself had never heard of. It might exist, but he had to wonder if his brother was grasping at straws to reassure himself of Morgan's eventual recovery.
"It's probably best if we move her sooner rather than later," Don said with a sigh.
"That is inadvisable, my friend. When her body weakens she will need the ventilators and life support equipment at the hospital."
"We don't have a choice, Leatherhead. Reliable intel says the Shredder will act soon to take her into custody."
Don's fist hit the counter in front of him in frustration, rattling the test tubes and flasks on the table. The crocodile's eyes widened. Very little pushed his friend into venting his emotions in a physical form. His golden pupils slitted in thought.
"This girl, she is human, yes? Where did she come from?" Leatherhead asked. "Perhaps a parent or family member could be found whose blood matches hers."
Don barked a laugh.
"If only it were that simple. As far as I can tell, her DNA is human; weird but human. At least, I haven't detected any alien particles or any type of mutagen," he added with a sigh. "She was adopted somewhere in the Midwest. I searched high and low, but there are no digitized records of her birth family. The adoption agency reported the only things on her when she was left at the orphanage were a pendant of a turtle and a note which read 'Find your match'."
"Hmm. What use is she going to be to the Shredder? In her condition, she is not a viable test subject."
"She was never a test subject, Leatherhead."
"You alluded she escaped from one of his facilities!"
"She did," Don replied with quiet sadness. He hesitated to tell his friend what she had been through, knowing the crocodile suffered in captivity himself. He had to phrase this delicately. "She was a forced participant in acts of an intimate and personal nature. They behaviorally modified her until she fit the Shredder's tastes."
His phrasing didn't fool Leatherhead in the least.
"The girl was a sex slave?" the crocodile cried, "The Shredder's bedmate?"
Leatherhead's eyes flared with rage and horror, but his control held. Perhaps because he had not yet met the girl. Morgan was sweetness personified and the mere thought of her terrible experiences made Donatello's vision red with fury.
"She was being groomed for him, but she escaped before he took possession. She doesn't know who she was intended for and we haven't seen fit to tell her. But Shredder wants her back."
"And the one who tortured her?"
Don's face hardened.
"He is here, in the city, trying to justify his loss. If the Foot don't tear him limb from limb, I will."
Leatherhead laid a huge hand on Donatello's shoulder, shocked by this bloodthirsty reply from his most gentle friend.
"Why does she affect you so?"
"She's survived so much. The things they did to her should have broken her a long time ago, but they didn't. Her body and spirit took a beating, but she is still good to the core; the kindest human being I have ever met. That alone garnered my respect, but she also accepted us immediately, unflinchingly."
"A rare woman indeed."
"She's intelligent," Don added, "almost too clever. She picks up on every little nuance of a situation."
Leatherhead nodded. "I see. She intrigues you. You wish to pursue her?"
"What? No! She is a fascinating woman, but Raphael would kill me."
"Raphael?"
"He's fallen for her so hard it's impossible to pry him from her side."
"Truly? To inspire such devotion in one so opposed to humanity..." the crocodile shook his head and changed the subject. "What do you think the Shredder wants with her now? She is of no use to him in her current state."
"Rumor has it, the man who tortured her developed a serum to make her heal faster, simply so he could hurt her again," Don said in disgust. "If Shredder has obtained it..."
"I would be most interested in analyzing this serum."
"You and me both. But getting the formula away from the Foot will be next to impossible. Besides, our informant says its usage is not pleasant in the slightest."
"Do you know anything about how it works?"
"Only that it was developed over many years after his pet scientists studied her DNA."
The crocodile's eyes widened again and he bared his teeth in anger.
"How long did they hold this girl?"
"Six years," Donnie whispered. "The poor thing survived practically every major trauma known to man, but now she's dying from blood loss."
"And Raphael? How is he taking this?"
"You wouldn't recognize him. He's like a ghost since she was injured. Day after day he guards her, growling at every little shadow passing the window or the base of her door. And every day she doesn't wake up he loses a little more hope."
"Then we shall have to locate some for him," the crocodile replied.
She is still breathing. Her heart is beating. She is alive. Morgan -will- wake up and when she does, I'll be here.
The phrases had become his mantra, chasing each other in his head as he chanted them over and over to himself. He glanced at her again from his hiding place, verifying the staff gathered around her were the same ones he'd seen work with her before.
He watched their movements to make sure they intended her no harm. He recognized them all. He took a photo of every person who entered Morgan's room and Don ran them through facial recognition software, hacking their lives to look for connections to the Foot, the Dragon's, or Charlie. So far, everyone turned up clean.
Oh, the lead physician was having an affair and the nurse on the right was hiding a pregnancy from her boyfriend, but it was pretty run of the mill stuff. He waited until the room was clear before easing out of the cramped airspace above the closet area and dropped silently to the floor.
In two strides, he was at her side again. His eyes scanned her face, searching for any slight difference, a sign she might wake up, proof the doctors were actually doing her some good. Nothing new met his tired gaze and he slumped down into the chair beside her bed.
Gingerly, he reached across and stroked her cheek with a finger. She was still burning up. The meds they were giving her to fight the fever weren't doing much good.
"I wish I could do more, angel," he whispered. "I would do anything to help you get well."
He leaned his arm on the bed next to her and rested his chin on it, keeping his eyes fixed on her face.
"I should never have let ya out of my sight. Hell, I shouldn't have let Leo talk me into taking ya topside to begin with. I blamed him, but it wasn't his fault. I was the one who swore to keep ya safe and I failed."
He paused to watch her chest rise and fall silently, brushing a rogue curl away from her forehead. His heart constricted and he moaned.
"There's so much I want to tell ya and I don't know now if you're ever going to wake up to hear."
His voice caught, becoming rough and low.
"You gave me a gift, angel. A damn precious one. You gave me your trust when ya had no reason too. You treated me like a person. Called me a man, even though ya knew I wasn't. Made me feel real for the first time in my life.
You said I was beautiful. You know how crazy that sounds to someone like me? You're the beautiful one, gorgeous through and through."
He left the chair and began to pace the room, muttering furiously to her as he did so.
"I kept waiting for the catch. For the moment something would send ya fleeing from me, but ya took everything in stride. You didn't bat an eye about the fact we live in a sewer, or that my father is a freaking rat! You didn't flinch away from my skin or my shell.
The only thing that scared ya was my temper. I thought I'd ruined my chances that first day at breakfast, but ya forgave me..."
He collapsed back into the chair to stare at her face, his voice no longer angry.
"And the kiss! Morgan, you don't know what ya do to me! I never thought I'd feel so intensely about anyone."
He shook himself and leaned his forehead against her uninjured shoulder.
"You are amazing," he mumbled into the bed, "and I can't stand the thought we won't have the chance to see where this goes. You have to come back to me."
He raised his head and gently stroked her cheek.
"I love you."
Donatello raced across the vacant lot and vaulted over the low fence denoting the hospital grounds. Tonight, he did not linger in the shadows hesitating to see his brother. Instead, eagerness to test his theory sent him up the facade in record time. He was early, but he wanted to implement his idea before the nurses came in to give Morgan her nightly transfusion.
Raph was slumped over the bed when Don peered in through the window and his light unexpected tap made his brother react violently. Raphael spun toward the sound with both sai drawn, fire in his eyes.
The flames cooled when he saw the intruder was Donatello. He holstered his weapons and wearily approached the glass to let him in.
"You're early," Raph said flatly. "I wasn't expecting ya for at least an hour."
Don whipped his duffel bag off his shell, dropping it into the chair next to her bed, and pulled out a cooler, but instead of the usual food items this one contained three clear bags full of blood. Raph's eyes widened when he saw them.
"Donnie! You figured something out?" His voice rose and for the first time in days, he smiled.
"Don't get your hopes up, Raph. This worked in the lab, but there's no guarantee it'll help her."
Raphael's frown returned.
"Will it make her worse? Like the transfusions she's getting now?"
"These were the only samples we tried that were non-reactive with hers. I'm hoping they're compatible enough she can incorporate them properly."
"Doesn't look like a lot," Raph said.
After days of watching the nurses give her transfusions, he had a general idea of how much blood was required. These three bags weren't even half full.
"It won't be a complete transfusion," Don said. "I wanted to start with a small amount of each in case of problems."
Donatello busily moved around Morgan as he spoke, detaching the clear fluid already connected to her I.V. and replacing it with the first small bag of blood. Before he reconnected the tube, Raph's large hand clamped over his own.
"Where did this blood come from?"
The question was sharp; suspicious. Don stared intently into his brother's eyes and saw fear. He didn't know if his answer would trigger that emotion. He sighed.
"It's ours Raph."
"What?" Raphael exploded.
"Keep your voice down or those FBI agents will be in here," Donatello said.
"You can't give her our blood! It's full of mutagen and god knows what else!"
"I know what else," Don said in a harsh whisper, "There are proteins and antibodies she's in dire need of. Ones that pair incredibly well with her own and might be able to reverse the effects of all the bad human stuff she's been processing."
Don's eyes became glassy as he mused aloud. "Each of us has slightly different amounts, of course, that's why I'm trying them all."
"Don," Raph asked through gritted teeth, "What about the mutagen?"
"It didn't affect the sample and should pass through her system without an issue. She's not going to spontaneously mutate into something else, if that's what you're worried about," Donatello said. "The concentration isn't high enough, and her DNA is remarkably solid; different from a normal human's. I told you that before."
Raphael breathed heavily, trying to decide if he should let his brother do this. Donnie was a genius and Morgan was slowly dying in front of him. If this was the only way... Eventually, he released his brother's hand and walked to the other side of the bed.
"Whose are you starting with?" Raph didn't know why it mattered, but to him it did.
"Mine," Don answered. "It was the closest match in protein levels. Not perfect, but 100 times better than the human samples."
"What about mine?" Raphael asked.
"I didn't have a recent sample to compare, but yours should be similar. I can take some to test if you want."
Donatello didn't expect his brother's sharp nod. Raph hated needles and was notoriously skittish around them, which was why there wasn't a specimen to begin with. He started the transfusion before coming around the bed to find a syringe in his duffle bag and hesitated before approaching his brother.
"I'm going to draw the sample now, ok?" Don asked.
Raph nodded again, never taking his eyes off Morgan's face. Don flipped a rubber cord expertly around Raph's upper arm and probed the veins of his inner elbow.
"Make a fist."
His brother silently did so, and he quickly slipped the needle into the vein and drew the syringe full before Raph changed his mind. It was over in seconds and Donnie hid his shock at Raphael's compliance.
"How long before you can tell if it's compatible?"
"Hmm... give me a few minutes."
Still stunned over his brother's ease at giving up his blood, Donatello rummaged around in the cooler, pulling out a test tube of Morgan's he was using as a control sample. He splashed a few drops into a clean petri dish and added a few of Raph's from the syringe.
He put on his custom goggles and activated the microscope function. Tiny cells swam into focus before his eyes. They didn't clump like the human samples and her cells didn't ignore his as they had the other mutant units. Instead, they embraced one another.
Don drew back, startled, increased the magnification of his headgear and looked again. He gasped at what he saw.
As in any sample, some cells were malformed and technically 'ill' among Morgan's. Raph's larger mutated cells were enclosing these within their outer membranes and repairing them on a microscopic level. Others simply used their own mutagen to copy her DNA, transforming themselves into an exact replica of her blood.
In minutes, Donatello was staring at a completely healthy sample of Morgan's blood. No trace of Raphael's original cells, or mutagen, remained and each cell he examined was perfect in every way.
"I don't believe it," Don murmured to himself.
Forgetting he was topside in a hospital room where they might be discovered at any moment, his scientific mind kicked into high gear and he began experimenting. He pricked his own finger, adding his blood to the mix.
It was compatible with Morgan's, yet remained distinct. No mutagen reaction occurred. He put in a few more drops of Raph's, feeling like a mad scientist playing with things he did not understand.
Raph's blood was drawn to hers and ignored his at first, but once the mutagen reaction kicked in, Raph's cells attacked Don's, converting them forcefully into a copy of Morgan's before changing themselves.
Again he was left staring at a sample that only contained Morgan's unique blood. He took off his goggles and stared into space as his mind raced at a thousand miles an hour, searching for an explanation.
He found none but was soon off on other tangents. Would Raph's blood heal a larger injury? Would it mutate into different types of cells? Or was it simply a blood thing?
He dove into his duffle bag and pulled out a set of medical instruments. Under Raphael's watchful gaze, he gently scraped some skin cells from near the wound on Morgan's cheek into a new petri dish. He added a few drops of blood and watched avidly.
The process was much slower. Several minutes passed before each cell was converted, but eventually all the cells mutated to match the source.
Don removed his goggles and stared at Raphael. His brother raised a brow ridge.
"Well Brainiac? What's the verdict?"
"I- well, I-"
Raph sighed.
"It's not right, is it," he said sadly. "I should've' known. Nothing about me is good for her. She deserves better." He gestured broadly at the I.V. stand. "Your blood seems to be helping though. She ain't so yellow anymore."
"No, you don't understand. You're a blood match."
"Impossible. I'm a mutated animal, she's a human. Even I know that much."
"Your blood mutates into an exact replica of hers," Don said and held up a hand to stop any further protest. "Don't ask me to explain, I've never seen it before. Mine didn't react that way. It seems to be unique to you."
Raphael stared at his brother in disbelief.
"What's more, your blood mutated into whatever cell I put in the dish and healed all the abnormal ones."
"What are ya saying, Don?"
"Your blood might be able to heal her in a rather short period of time. It's possible she could be well in a matter of weeks or even days instead of months."
"Take it," Raph said instantly, holding out his arm. "Give it to her right now."
Donatello shook his head. "We should wait for further testing. There are still too many unknowns."
"What? Why?" Raphael snapped. "You said it could heal her, and we need to get her out of here!"
"One, I don't know how long it would take," Don replied. "It could be too fast and the doctors might notice."
Raph shrugged and Donnie frowned.
"It could trigger all sorts of nasty repercussions, Raph. It's been hard enough keeping the existence of her strange blood a secret. I've had to hack the hospital records and the doctor's emails constantly to keep the information from leaking out. You and I both know there are people like Agent Bishop and Dr. Stockman waiting for news of this type of discovery."
Raphael's eyes drifted to Morgan's face and his hand hovered over hers on the blanket, touching it ever so slightly.
"I broke her, Don," he admitted. "It might as well have been my hands around her throat in that alley. I was cocky. Confident I could keep her safe, but I failed. I didn't get there in time and I let my anger blind me. I didn't stop the van when I had the chance. Now you're telling me I might be able to make it right. That my blood could fix her. Please... let me do this."
Donatello's face softened.
"I know you feel guilty Raph, but this wasn't your fault. It was a well choreographed plan. Those were professionals sent in to retrieve her."
The look on Raph's face said he wasn't buying it and Don sighed, changing tactics.
"We will try," he said. "But only in the lair and only after she wakes enough to consent, OK? For all we know the process will be painful, like the serum."
Raphael paled a little and nodded. He did not want to cause the angel any more pain.
"For now," Don said, "Let's get these into her. I'll forge the charts so the night nurse thinks the day staff did the transfusion and if all goes well, tomorrow or the next day Morgan might be stable enough to move. Then we can finally take her home."