On the Verge of Exploding
As soon as Raphael's shadow disappeared, Donatello turned to the rest of his family. He couldn't help feeling bitter.
"And now what?"
"Now you allow yourself to relax, my son." Splinter put a comforting hand on Donatello's shoulder. "Tomorrow, Raphael will need you in the best shape you can be."
"Sensei, I can't relax now!" Donatello protested, not believing his ears. "There is so much I have to do before the storm! I thought Raph would be in the lair during it, but he won't." He threw his arms up in sheer frustration. Couldn't his brothers have waited? "Now I won't be able to create a sterile environment, which is a problem, mind you. And did I mention that Irma will be awaiting my report? Not to mention you better hope she doesn't notice Raph's absence."
"What do you think she would do?"
Michelangelo's anxiety was obvious, and did nothing to appease Donatello's. What if something happened to Raphael while he was away? He was pretty sure that his brother wouldn't call them for help. It was stupid. Did he think they didn't care about what happened to him?
"I don't know!" he almost yelled. "She's a crazy alien who thinks it's funny to implant bombs into people! How am I supposed to get into her head?"
"Donnie, breathe." Leonardo extended his hands in front of him in a calming gesture. "One thing at a time."
Donatello snorted and crossed his arms. As if he couldn't multitask. He could use some help to sort his thoughts, though, and he was willing to listen to what his brother had to say. He was just unwilling to admit it.
"First, I need to know what exactly you told Irma. She's our enemy."
Donatello rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't know, maybe I told her where our lair was? Oh wait."
Leonardo narrowed his eyes slightly, not happy to be answered with sarcasm. Donatello held steady for twenty seconds before the urge to expand on his answer in more detail won.
"I didn't tell her anything about us. I only described my symptoms… when I had any," he quickly added when he noticed his brothers and father's expressions. "And I didn't share the results of my own experiments with her." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "The molecular structure of the vial's substance is unlike anything I've ever seen. It's not mutagen, and it's not from this planet either. On a purely scientific plan, it's amazing."
"Donatello." His father's closed expression made very clear what he thought of science at that moment. "Do you know what you're risking?"
Donatello bowed his head, embarrassed. "Not…not exactly."
His family watched him, appalled. He knew what they were afraid of. If he was honest with himself, he was afraid of it too. Of course he had already thought about it - and none of his assumptions were particularly enticing. But he already had so much on his plate, no time to think about it now. No time to wonder if his body had suffered permanent damage.
Leonardo took a deep breath and switched the topic. "What will you do for Raph? Irma might not be able to trigger the bomb during the storm, but it's still inside his body."
Donatello hesitated. "Surgery. He'll need surgery."
Michelangelo gulped. "You're going to cut Raph into slices? Like Dr Madwell did in the last episode of…"
"No, Mikey, I won't," Donatello cut him off. "We'll just need to cut the skin and part of his muscle. The bomb is tiny enough to have been injected with a syringe, and I have a good idea where it is. It'll require dexterity, and someone will have to… uh… wipe off the…hem… small quantity of blood that will inevitably escape from the cut…" He ignored his brothers' disgusted faces to glance at his father. "…so the one operating can see what he's doing."
"I'll help you, my son." Splinter smiled reassuringly. "Just tell me what to do."
Donatello nodded his gratitude.
"There are a few things I need to check in my anatomy books before that. Of course, it would be easier if there were anatomy books about mutant turtles." He sighed. "And I also need to write my report for Irma."
"You'll forge it like a pro, Donnie." Michelangelo patted his shoulder. "And I'll be there to help you."
Donatello groaned. Helping him would probably involve watching him like a hawk so he didn't have the opportunity to take another drop from the vial. Not that he was looking forward to do that, but he felt uneasy cheating with Irma's instructions. Especially so close to the end of this nightmare.
"Last thing, Donnie." Leonardo absent-mindedly put a hand on the hilt of one of his swords. "Do you know where Irma is hiding?"
"Why? You can't do anything now," Donatello asked anxiously.
"I won't do anything until Raph is safe. Then we can do something together." Leonardo looked him in the eye.
Donatello nodded slowly. "I might be able to find her." He glanced at his Kraang Tech Detector, lying in a corner of his lab. "If need be."
Leonardo acknowledged his answer before turning to Splinter.
"Sensei, maybe we could stay in the dojo for a while?" he suggested. "With some luck, it'll keep Irma busy watching us."
Splinter nodded. As they left the lab, Donatello heard Leonardo's whisper.
"I can't believe that the lair has been compromised."
Donatello didn't hear Splinter's reply, and he didn't have time to ponder Leonardo's words.
He was alone with Michelangelo.
Donatello waited for Michelangelo to speak first, but his brother, for once, didn't seem to want to make conversation. He was sitting on Donatello's desk and balancing his legs.
Donatello sighed and began typing the beginnings of a report for Irma. He had the white spots and coughing to describe. He wondered if taking another drop today would have worsened these symptoms. Should he exaggerate them a bit?
He suddenly realized that it would be the last report he would write. At the same hour tomorrow, he would be free of Irma's blackmail.
And Raph would be safe and sound at his side to take her down. He would.
Donatello began typing with renewed determination, his tongue stuck slightly out in concentration.
"I can't believe you didn't tell us." The hurt in Michelangelo's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"I thought it would be better if you didn't know." Donatello swallowed hard. "For the record, I still do."
Michelangelo sighed. "Yeah, I know. It doesn't make it right."
"There is nothing right about any of this." Donatello gritted his teeth, trying to keep his tone soft. None of it was Michelangelo's fault. "What was I supposed to do?"
"Dude, I'm just saying you shouldn't have been alone on this." Michelangelo jumped from the desk to put his elbows on it and leaned forward, looking Donatello in the eye. "I wanted to be here for you."
Donatello looked away, unable to withstand the crocodile tears Michelangelo had put in his eyes. Or was he faking them?
"I'm sorry, Mikey, but there was too much at stake and…"
He shut up, not knowing how to end his sentence. It wasn't like he had wanted to keep his brothers in the dark, but he still felt guilty he had.
Michelangelo shrugged. "Nothing new," he whispered. Then he took a glance at Donatello's screen. "Is that your report?"
Donatello nodded, insanely grateful for the change of topic.
"Uuuh, Donnie, that's boring! 'Spots the diameter of 0.2, 0.3 and 0.35 inches'? Who cares about that?"
"It's a scientific report. It has to be accurate."
"It's still boring, Dee. Why don't you say that these spots are spreading like evil mushrooms on your skin instead?"
"It's… not how it works." Donatello gave him a look.
Michelangelo shook his head. "You really needed my help," he muttered.
The next hour flew by. Donatello did a lot of editing, but it was fun to see Michelangelo's wild imagination at work. They were in the middle of discussing whether or not comparing Donatello to a mutated turnip would help their cause when Michelangelo's phone beeped.
"It's Raph!" Michelangelo grinned. "He texted me!"
Before Donatello had the time to ask what the text said, Michelangelo was calling Raphael.
"Hey, Raph! How are you doing?" He listened to the answer before nodding. "Uh-uh. Uh-uh. It's not too cold?"
"Mikey, the speaker!" Donatello whispered, eager to hear Raphael's voice.
"Oh, right. Sorry." Michelangelo offered him a sheepish smile and pressed a key on his T-Phone.
And here it was, half-grumpy and half-snarky like it should be, and Donatello's stomach unknotted. He hadn't even realized he was so tense.
"How is Donnie doing?" Raphael was asking. "I hope he's not being too difficult."
"No, he's being very cooperative," Michelangelo answered like a proud dad.
Donatello hid his face in his hands.
"Do you want to tell him something?" Michelangelo went on, before handing the phone to Donatello when Raphael agreed.
Donatello took it delicately like the precious link to his precious brother it was.
"Yes, Raph?" he said, his voice hoarse.
"NEXT TIME SAY SOMETHING!"
Donatello almost dropped the phone. "I should have seen that coming," he muttered to himself as Michelangelo laughed.
"And, Donnie?" Raphael went on, his voice at a normal volume - although his tone was more hesitant than usual. "Take good care of yourself."
"Sure. I'll do what I can to avoid becoming deaf," Donatello half-joked. "I'm taking the first steps right now by not letting this phone anywhere near my ear."
He heard Raphael chuckle, and felt warmth engulf him. They were going to save him. He knew it in his heart.
Any other possibility, no matter how scientifically likely, was outright irrelevant.
Hours passed. Donatello was more tired than ever, but he was beginning to feel more confident about the upcoming intervention on Raphael. He had put all the necessary items in a medical bag and inside the Shellraiser. Now he wanted to discuss the procedure with Splinter.
He had also checked the space weather again. According to the latest update, the storm would hit the Earth in the early afternoon rather than in the evening. It was both good and bad news; it meant that it would be over sooner, but also that they would have to move during the day. Good thing he had built a Shellraiser.
He glanced at Michelangelo, rolled into a ball on the floor and sleeping soundly. He had refused to go take some rest into his own bed. Donatello smiled fondly and decided to go into the dojo to see what Leonardo and Splinter had been doing for so long. He stood up and grimaced at the sudden dizziness he was experiencing. He leaned on his desk and took deep breathes. When his phone rang, he immediately picked it up, his heart beating faster. Was it Raphael again?
It wasn't.
"Donnie!"
"A-a-april!" Donatello's brain tried to process this information. Why would April call him now? Did she… did she suspect something? But how? "To what do I owe the honor of your call? As much as I love hearing your voice, you know we usually sleep at that time of the day."
"Casey told me. Oh my gosh, Donnie, I can't believe I didn't realize what was going on."
"Casey?" Donatello choked. "What does Casey know?"
April coughed. "Well, he learned it from Raph, who called him to... to..." April stayed quiet for a few seconds. "You know, to say goodbye."
Silence stretched between them.
"No need to say goodbye," Donatello finally said in a strained voice. "He'll be fine. And why did Casey tell you, anyways? I'm sure Raph told him to keep his big mouth shut."
"Oh, he might have told Casey to shut up," April admitted. "And I might have insisted that he didn't. But we're not talking about Casey now."
Donatello cleared his throat, which triggered a coughing fit. Which, of course, didn't do anything to reassure April.
"Donnie… Be honest with me. How are you?"
Donatello's fingers tightened around the phone. "I… I've seen better," he admitted.
"I want to be there." April said softly. "When you take Irma down."
Her fierce voice also held a hint of guilt, and Donatello remembered that she was the one who had brought Irma to the lair.
"Of course, April," he quickly answered.
"Do you want me to come over?"
"What? No!" Donatello didn't want his friend seeing him in that state, and more importantly, he didn't want to lose his focus now. "I need to get ready. I'll call you back, alright?"
"Alright."
Donatello sighed and hung up. As much as he wanted to keep talking to April, he really had to talk to Splinter and make sure everything that could be under control was.
"So April knows."
Donatello jumped. He hadn't heard Leonardo coming inside.
"Yes. She wants to help to take Irma down."
Leonardo nodded. "Good. The sooner the better. We need to put an end to her threat. After the storm, when Raph will be safe..." Leonardo's voice didn't hold the slightest hint of doubt that Raphael would be, which Donatello was grateful for. "We need to find where she is and make sure she won't attack us again. I wish we could leave the lair. It isn't safe."
"Then why don't we leave now?" Michelangelo stretched and yawned.
"Because we don't want to attract Irma's attention," Donatello explained, wondering how long his brother had been faking sleep.
"About that, what did you do with Splinter?" Michelangelo asked Leonardo.
Leonardo smirked. "We meditated together."
Michelangelo nodded his appreciation. "Good thinking, bro. I hope Irma collapsed from boredom."
For once, Leonardo didn't try to convince him that the ancient art of meditation wasn't boring, focusing on Donatello instead. "Is there anything we could do now to be ready when the time comes?"
"Actually, yes." Donatello straightened up. "I think we could use the satellite dish Casey saved for me to give my Kraang Tech Detector a broader range. I already put both in the Shellraiser. We would have to wait for the end of the storm, of course, or it could be damaged. He rummaged through his shelves. "Protect it with this, and choose a tall building."
Leonardo took the sheet of altered aluminum Donatello was giving him and nodded. "I'll take the Shellraiser. I'll be back in no time."
"See you later." Donatello smiled.
A while later, Donatello and Splinter were discussing the last details of Donatello's plan to save Raphael in the kitchen, while Michelangelo played around with Donatello's metal detector, Ice Cream Kitty on his shoulder.
"See, Ice Cream Kitty," he whispered to his cat. "It rings with my nunchucks because they're metal. And it doesn't ring with Donatello's bō staff because it's wooden… Uh…"
Michelangelo looked quizzically at the ringing detector.
"I added a blade inside," Donatello reminded him. "And that detector isn't a toy."
"Of course it is." Michelangelo stuck his tongue out at him and waved the detector around.
Donatello rolled his eyes and resumed his conversation with Splinter, ignoring the beeps of the metal detector. He showed his father images of his anatomy book. Surgery wasn't forgiving. They had to get it right.
"Uh, Donnie? Did you also put a blade under the kitchen's floor?"
"I didn't, Mikey," Donatello answered absent-mindedly. He knew Michelangelo was trying to cope with the recent events by goofing around, and he wasn't going to blame him, but he really needed to focus on somebody else right now.
"Uh-oh."
Something in his tone triggered an alarm in Donatello's mind.
"Michelangelo?" Splinter frowned.
Next to the kitchen's door, Michelangelo was looking at them with dread. He had apparently removed a tiny bit of the floor, which allowed him to see what was under…
Donatello was on his feet in a second. He snatched his bō staff and pointed it at the thing Michelangelo had just discovered.
It was a metallic thing alright, and it was flashing pink lights.
It looked very, very wrong.
But if the bomb inside Raph's body hadn't been from alien material, why wouldn't Irma have put the same type of bomb in the lair? To, say, make sure she kept the upper hand?
Irma's registered voice echoed through the kitchen.
"Automated explosion protocol engaged. With the compliments of Kraang Subprime."
Donatello swore inwardly. Why would Irma risk killing them all by using an automated protocol? The bomb must have been a second option. Or did she intend to betray them all along?
"5… 4… 3…"
Donatello knew he wouldn't manage to deactivate that bomb in only three seconds. He tried to dislodge it to send it far, far away - in the sewers tunnels for example, so it wouldn't explode in the lair…
"2…"
It was glued to the ground. Donatello opened his mouth to tell everybody to get out, fast, but Splinter's hand was already grabbing his arm and pushing him out of the kitchen, along with Michelangelo, and the three of them ran for the turnstiles…
"1."
As their home collapsed into a zillion debris before the countdown reached zero, Donatello didn't curse Irma for her trickery.
No, the throbbing question in his head wasn't about her at all.
That bomb… Had it been linked to Raphael's?
