Chapter 21 ~Vigil~

Karen slept uneasily that night, in her own bed. Splinter refused to leave Leonardo's side. Debating between the couch and her bed, she settled on the bed, leaving the couch open for Raphael. At around four AM, she rolled over again, and finally sat up with a sigh.

Might as well check on the boys, she thought. I'm sure not going to sleep tonight.

Padding down the hall, she poked her head into the living room, finding the couch empty, the blanket she'd left for the red-banded Turtle discarded in a bundled wad at one end. She moved toward Luke's bedroom. A quick glance through the door showed Luke and Michelangelo sleeping soundly, the video game controllers still lying on top of the blankets. Karen smiled, shaking her head, and continued to the room where Donatello and Leonardo were sleeping. She looked inside, and spotted Leonardo still on his plastron, his injured arm curled up over his head in a restless position. His face was turned away, but Karen could see the steady rise and fall of his shell. Splinter was propped up against the wall at the head of Leonardo's bed. As she shifted to look further into the room, Splinter sat up quite suddenly, glaring dangerously in her direction. Karen took an involuntary step back.

"Sorry," she said softly.

His gaze focused, and he relaxed. "Miss Karen-san. Is anything wrong?"

"No. I didn't mean to disturb you. I couldn't sleep. How are they?"

"Donatello is awake," said Splinter, following Karen's glance. "Leonardo has been restless. He fell asleep almost an hour ago." As he spoke, the Rat reached up, laying his hand lightly across Leonardo's head. He frowned. "His fever is unchanged," he said, sounding surprised.

"He's still running a fever?" Karen came into the room, alarmed, and knelt beside the Rat.

Carefully, she reached out, just touching the edge of Leonardo's shell. He stirred slightly, a soft moan escaping him, but Splinter's hand moved against his head and he went still, his breathing going deep and soft once more. Karen glanced at the Rat, and he nodded, so she touched the back of Leonardo's neck, marveling for a moment over the ultra-fine leather feel of his skin. The heat radiating off him had her frowning.

"He's really ill, Splinter." It can't be… He's not sick like Luke was… He can't be. Their physiology is so different. It's just a bug, it has to be… "What do you want to do?"

"I do not know, Miss Karen-san." Splinter sounded troubled. "Leonardo has not been so ill since he was very small."

He's had this before… so it's not… It's just a bug. He's going to be ok. We'll figure this out.

"What did you do for him then?"

A look from those dark eyes.

"I used herbs to reduce his fever as best I could. There was little else to be done."

"Without access to a doctor…" She shook her head. "How did you manage, Splinter?"

"It was not easy, Miss Karen-san," he told her dryly.

"He shouldn't be this ill," she mused, rubbing her fingers absently over the back of Leonardo's neck. "Luke's had the flu before, and he always gets over it in just a few days. He never runs a high-grade fever. And the others aren't this sick. Why just him?"

"I do not know, Miss Karen-san." Splinter sighed, passing a weary hand over his face.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" she asked.

Splinter's look answered for him.

"You won't do him any good if you get sick too," she told him firmly. "Splinter, you need to get some rest."

"I will be fine, Miss Karen-san," he replied stiffly.

Karen knew arguing would be useless. She stood up. "When Leonardo wakes up, I've got some Tylenol. That should help reduce his fever at least. For now, I'll go and see what the boys are doing, ok?"

"Thank you."

Karen headed back down the hall, listening for activity elsewhere in the house, but she might as well have been alone. She fought down her anxiety.

He's going to be all right. Splinter said he had a fever like this once before. The chances of him having what Luke had are so slim…

There was hardly a sound, aside from the normal creaks and sighs of the old house. She thought she heard a faint noise from her ex husband's office, so she headed in that direction, banishing the worry.

"Donatello? What are you doing?" she asked.

The purple-banded turtle turned so suddenly in the chair he nearly overbalanced.

"Karen! What are you doing up? I didn't disturb you, did I?"

"Not at all," she answered with a smile. "I didn't even know you were in here. I told Splinter I'd check on you and Raphael."

"Oh. How's Leo?"

"His fever's the same."

Donatello frowned. "He shouldn't be this sick," he said. "We've all had basic childhood illnesses before, but none of us have been really ill since we were kids. I don't understand. Mikey and I didn't get this sick."

"How is he even running a fever?" asked Karen. "I thought you said you were cold blooded."

Don shook his head. "Not really," he said. "As far as I can tell, we're not entirely cold blooded. I mean, obviously we can generate heat for ourselves, or we wouldn't be able to go outside at all in this kind of weather." He gestured toward the window. Karen glanced out, and noticed fat white snowflakes falling. "But we're a lot more sensitive to the cold than the average human. We have to keep moving constantly in winter, or we risk getting sluggish."

"Like you were, when I had to bring you inside," said Karen, giving him a sharp glance.

Don ducked his head in apparent embarrassment. "Yeah."

"So, what are you doing in here?" she asked.

"Oh! Oh, I… umm… I hope you don't mind. Luke said yesterday I could use this computer to get on the internet," said Donatello.

"Sure, Don," said Karen casually. "But how'd you get online? I thought the phone line was still disconnected?"

"No, I had time to hook it back up before your husband showed up yesterday." He fiddled with the mouse, avoiding Karen's gaze.

Why is he so embarrassed? He wasn't this fidgety after he disconnected the phone, she thought.

"Did you find what you needed ok?"

"Well, I um…"

Karen saw the cursor move with a jerk toward the red x. She glanced at the screen, but saw only text.

What could he be looking up? It's not anything I would've expected a teenage boy to be embarrassed about looking at… but then, these aren't average teenage boys.

Donatello shifted in the chair again and sighed. "I was looking at the website Luke has an account on," he blurted. "The… fan-fiction."

"Oh." Understanding flooded Karen. "Are you… Ok, Don?" Tentatively, she laid a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at her, startled, but gave her a small smile and drew a deep breath.

"Yeah. I've been skimming some of these… stories. Some of them… well, there's a real variety…" His fingers flew over the keyboard, and a new screen flashed. "I've made a chart…" A page of complicated graphs appeared. "See, I've divided the stories by genre and detail. There seem to be a lot of stories where one of us is captured by villains and the others have to get him out." He snorted. "As if."

Karen almost laughed. But standing here, with her hand on his shoulder, the memory of Vickie's jangling nerves after her encounter with Hun rose in Karen's mind. She shivered in the warm room. "But it has happened," she pointed out. "You said that movie was accurate at least."

"Not entirely," said Donatello, not bothering to look up from the screen. "There were minor details that were off… it's as if someone could see us…" He shook his head. "But they wrote it as a story. Like a lot of these people have done."

He clicked back to the fan-fiction website. "Some of them are very talented writers. There're a lot of… good imaginations represented here."

Karen noticed the way Donatello shifted, actually looking away as some of the titles scrolled down the screen.

"Did you read them all?" she asked, incredulous.

"Most of them," he said. "See, they have summaries, so you can see what the stories are about." He pointed. "I skimmed a few of each type. Some, that looked like they might be about things that actually have happened to us, I read more thoroughly. A few…" He swallowed hard.

"What is it, Don?"

"A few… well… let me just say I'm glad these weren't real events."

"Oh. You mean some people wrote really unpleasant things happening?"

"Or they wrote us doing things we'd never do! Splinter abusing us as kids, Mikey turning into a cold blooded killer, me using my technology to spy on our human friend like some kind of voyeur, Leo and Raph…" Donatello trailed off, turning a very odd shade of mottled red and green. "Well, never mind," he muttered.

"Donatello," Karen leaned forward, rubbing Don's shoulders firmly, feeling the trembling tension that had set in there. "Maybe it'd be better if you didn't read this stuff."

"I wish I hadn't read some of it," said Don, shaking his head as if to remove the material.

"These people don't know you and your brothers," Karen told him.

"What about the movies?" asked Donatello.

"What about them?"

He turned to look at her, his brown eyes intense. "Karen, we're connected to this dimension somehow. I just haven't figured out the connection yet. But I have to, or we might never find a way home." He turned back to the computer. "It's… eerie, reading about my family this way," he said softly.

"Don…" Karen hesitated. "Look, I know this is all very weird to you, but remember, these people don't know you, not really. They're just making up stories."

"I know, but, well, some of them do seem to know us. And others…" He shivered, glancing at the screen.

Karen sighed. "They only know what they've seen in the movies," she told him firmly. "These people are writers. They're using their own experiences mixed with what they think your lives might be like. They admire you, Don. Remember, fans wrote all these stories. People who've seen the movies and were so impressed with what they do know of you, they want to get to know you better, and this is the only way they can do that, through stories."

He glanced at her. "You sound like you understand them."

"I do, a little," she said. "My ex-husband is a very creative person. He's an animator. He writes some of his own storylines, and then creates the images to go along with it. He used to do a lot of drawing by hand, but now everything's going to CGI… there are so many younger people coming up in the media business, and the technology is changing so fast, it's been hard for him to adapt."

Donatello nodded. "Technology changes all the time," he said thoughtfully. "I can see where he'd have to learn new things just to keep up."

"Yeah. That's why he took this job in the lab. He's been having a hard time finding animation work," explained Karen. "A couple years ago, he had an opportunity to move to Massachusetts, to work in a small studio there, but he opted to stay close by, so he could see Luke. It was the first responsible decision he's made since I've known him." She sighed.

"You… don't think he made the right choice?" asked Don.

Karen glanced at him. "I thought so, at the time," she said. "But he was miserable at first, working at Santino. I really worried about him for a while… He seemed to be falling into a depression, until about a month ago. Lately he's been spending more time with Luke. He seems more involved. I guess he's finally starting to grow up."

"Sounds like it," said Donatello softly. "Luke's been great. I mean, this has got to be weird for him, too, but he hasn't been… the way I'd expect a fan to act."

"How did you expect him to act?" asked Karen, amused.

Donatello shrugged. "Like Mikey when he met the Silver Sentry last year," he said with a grin. "Luke's been helpful and friendly but not fawning, or trying to show off his knowledge of us. It's easy to forget we're fictional characters in this world." He swallowed hard.

"Donatello," said Karen. She knelt beside the chair and reached out to touch his shoulder. Don started, but didn't pull away. He looked at her questioningly. "You boys and your father are not fictional characters," she told him firmly. "You're sitting here, aren't you? You're as real as Luke and I. These… characters, on the websites and in the movies, they're just that, characters. They might be based on you and your brothers, but they're not you."

Don swallowed hard, and nodded. "You're right, Karen. Thanks."

"Any time." Karen stood up. "You want some coffee?"

"I've got to check on Leo and Mike. Have you seen Raph yet this morning?"

She frowned. "You know what, I haven't. I know he's awake, the couch is empty, but I haven't seen him yet. I'd better go see what kind of mischief he's managed to get himself into."

Donatello chuckled. "Raph can take care of himself," he said. "I just want to make sure he's not getting sick, too."

"Ok, I'll start the coffee, then I'll go find your brother, while you check on the others, how's that?"

"Sounds good. Thanks."

Karen had just scooped coffee into the filter when the phone jangled, making her jump. Who on earth is calling at… she glanced at the clock. Five A.M.?

She snatched the receiver before the second ring. "Hello?"

"Karen, ya gotta come, quick! It's Mrs. Willard. She's… I don't know exactly, what's wrong wit' 'er, but... Ya gotta come right now!"

"Raphael?" Karen stared at the receiver as if it would give her a clue to the Turtle's whereabouts. "Raphael, where are you? What's going on?"

"I'm at Mrs. Willard's house. Please, Karen, just come. Bring Donny. He'll know what ta do. She's breathin', but she won't wake up."

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay with her."

"Jus' hurry."