hanami – 8
Her mind refused to surface. Splinter said her spirit was traveling inward, searching inside herself. Leo's insides clenched; was she looking for her children?
She had been pregnant. They put a pregnant girl -- no woman -- into a box without food or water for FIVE DAYS? Splinter said that he couldn't tell how many children there had been, but Leo had glimpsed enough of the miscarriage to guess there had been least 2.
For the first time in his life Leonardo felt true helpless rage. "A high cost… preferable to their death." Perry's letter churned in Leo's mind. Of all the arrogant, fucking humans… Had he asked her that? Had Perry even known about the pregnancy?
He was gonna drive himself crazy with questions like that. He needed to go hit something, to train until he couldn't think anymore. But he couldn't just leave her draped in the tub. She needed medical care. So he gritted his teeth as his thoughts rose and burst like bubbles through the mire of his thickening rage.
She was pregnant. Had there been other turtles? Were they dead? Or would one of these poor, cramped, stunted S.O.B.s downstairs turn out to be her mate? No. Splinter said they were all sisters… Were any of the others pregnant? She was going to be hysterical when she woke up. How do you explain some thing like that to someone? He laughed without humor at himself, "She's unconscious. There's just one hysterical turtle. And that would be me."
Mikey intruded on his thoughts, calling up the stairs. "Yo! Leo, com'mon this little dude's joints are finally loosening up! Give me a hand." He gestured at the figure curled around itself, fetal and laying on its side on a mattress in front of the fire. "You take arms and shoulders. I'll deal with feet and hips. Poor guy might be able to sleep flat on his stomach tonight if we keep at him." Leo nodded; he'd be right down. Heading back into the bathroom, he carefully wrapped the young mother in a towel. As he carried her gently down the stairs, he heard Mikey carrying on a one-sided conversation.
"Yeah so that's how we happened… I guess we were a lot luckier then we knew. Splinter's a great father, and sure, Leo's bossy, but he means well. There's nothing Donnie can't fix. And there's nothing Raphael can't break. Heh, except this one time, I dared him to break a stack of cinder blocks with his forehead. Ha Ha! I'll tell you all about that when you're feeling a bit better. Promise. So, you know my name, I'm gonna give you a nickname, so I can talk to you without just calling you 'You.' Is that ok? Um let's see…"
Leonardo lay the mother out on a clean mattress, and propped her head up, she was still breathing, but she had not stirred. As he covered her with a blanket and tucked it around her, he heard his brother christening the poor quiet soul on the other mattress.
"Oh! Ok! I got one! I'm gonna call you 'Cabbage!'"
Leo glanced up sharply. "What?! Mikey of all the stupid things to call a turtle! Don't you think she's been through enough without your dumbass calling her 'Cabbage?'"
"Shut up Leo, he likes it!"
"SHE, Mike, she likes it. And how would you know anyways?"
Mike smiled, "We've got a system! Blink once for 'yes' and twice for 'no.'" He looked into the warm brown eyes watching him from the mattress. "So, first, are you a girl?" Blink. "Heh, coolness. So secondly, dudette, may I call you 'Cabbage?'" Blink. "See?! Told'ja so! And besides, it makes sense, she's small and green and all curled up, I picked her out of the box and rinsed her off and there she is, slowly uncurling. I think it's a cute name, don't you, Cabbage? The eyes crinkled in what might have been happiness. Blink.
Donatello looked up from beside the far mattress, "Don't argue, Leo." He was dressing the wounds on the lanky turtle's knees. "He's decided to call this one "Frogger."
"I bet she's an incredible jumper" Mikey smiled, Don rolled his eyes, and applied some antiseptic to a cotton ball.
"So is she conscious?"
"She was, but she's sleeping very deeply right now. Pass me that gauze will you?"
"Did she speak with you?"
"Some. She just asked about her sisters. Said her name was Unit C-3 Section 29. Whatever that means."
"So how did you know—"
"Oh the gender thing, yeah. You can see it in the shape of her plastron, since she's not all balled up."
"Like Cabbage," Mikey chirped.
Leo turned to Mike, "Did you know Miss C-3 was a girl BEFORE you went and called her 'Frogger?'"
"No," he shrugged, "But that doesn't matter. It's only a nickname."
Donatello patted his brother's arm, "Let's put some antiseptic on you gal's elbows and bandage her up."
"Seriously Leo, She'll tell us her real name when she wakes up." Mikey went back to work massaging Cabbage, but he called over his shoulder, "So, what're you gonna call yours?"
"She's not 'mine.'" An exasperated Leo got tangled in the medical tape and had to throw away a golf-ball-sized wad. "Off Mike's head, off the wall, no rim." Donatello applauded when he sunk the shot. Leo looked back down at the sleeping figure. His eyes settled on her face, watching her breathe in a peaceful rhythm. She had striped markings instead of the spots that he and his brothers bore. The pale yellow ran from under her eyes, down her cheeks to her jawbone where they broadened and slid down her neck toward her back.
"I think Shima [shee-mah] sounds nice." He frowned at Mikey's confused face. "You've forgotten all the Japanese Splinter ever taught us!"
"Not all. Just most."
"It means 'Stripe.'"
Michelangelo snorted, "That's brilliant Leo. Can we call you 'Spot?'"