CHAPTER FOUR

EXPERIMENTS

Raphael dropped to his hands and knees and heaved. There was nothing in his stomach. But if there was, it would've been all over the floor. His skin tingled and his head spun, and he gasped air as he knelt on the floor of the white room. What the hell were they doing to him? He couldn't even guess at how many injections he'd received in the past week. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything; they fed him through an IV. It took him a while to realize that was all he was going to get, and he stopped fighting them about it. Without it, he felt like he was dying. And he was becoming more and more convinced that it wouldn't bother them in the least if he happened to expire.

He dropped his head between his shoulders and felt his body shudder. Part of him screamed to get back up. It was instinct to fight this feeling of weakness and vulnerability. But he knew that there was nowhere for him to go if he pulled himself up off the floor. The room was sealed. Hell, they could cut off his air supply if they wanted to. It was empty, and white except for the square on one wall where the one-way glass stared at him, and he could see himself dying. He was dying. Whatever they were doing to him, it was killing him.

"Was that the last dose?" Travinski mumbled.

"Yeah," Callihan answered, amazed.

"You think this is a reaction?"

She shook her head. "Not like any I've ever seen before."

"Maybe it's delayed from the earlier doses."

She shook her head again. "No. They were totally flushed from his system before I exposed him to anything more."

He turned and watched the animal through the window. It collaped to the floor, its eyes sliding closed. "If he isn't immune to it, how long will it take before we know?"

"It'll start multiplying immediately," she mumbled. "We'll know by morning, just by his blood count. If there's more of it, it's multiplying. If there's less..." She shook her head slowly in disbelief. "He's killing it off."

"Just like everything else."

"Yes," she whispered. "Like everything else."

Travinski watched for a moment. The creature looked like it was asleep. "Assuming it survives this, too... What's the next step?"

She sighed. "Dr. Richardson wants to manipulate its DNA. He wants to see if there's some way..." Her voice trailed off as she became lost in thought.

"Some way to what?" he prodded.

She glanced at him. "It said that a mutagen changed it, right?" she questioned.

"Yes, when we first captured it." He flipped through his notes. "It was a turtle first. But the rat that lives with them was a human first." He closed his notebook. "I doubt it remembers saying that, though, since it was sedated pretty heavily."

"Tell me, doctor," she mumbled. "If you were dying... would you be willing to look like that in order to survive?"

Travinski studied the figure. "Pat, these things aren't human."

"No," she agreed. "They're animals with mutated DNA. But if what he was saying is true, if the rat was a human first, then it's possible to change a human into this form."

"Then maybe it's the rat we need to be talking to."

She sighed. "I don't think the rat will be willing to talk. And if it was human, even if it's not now... I don't know. That's walking a fine line. I don't think we have any right to take him against his will." There was a long silence. "And I don't think we need him," Callihan continued. "This one should be enough."

"Enough for what?" he questioned.

"Enough for everything we need to do, to make this work."

***

Dr. Richardson looked up as the file folder landed in front of him. Patrica Callihan stood in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and a smile on her face. He picked up the folder. "Good news, I gather?" he guessed.

"He's completely immune," she told him. "I've never seen anything like it. His white blood count is off the charts and he's perfectly healthy in every way."

Richardson thumbed through the records. "Did he get sick at all?" he questioned.

"He had dry heaves for about fifteen minutes after the last dose, and he fell asleep. We monitored him throughout the night. Breathing, heartrate, blood pressure... never rose, never fell. He woke up a few times, looked around, went back to sleep. He wouldn't tell us how he was feeling, but I don't imagine it was too bad from the way he was fighting this morning."

"Did you sedate him?"

"No. We put him back in the room. He tried to kick the door down, but other than that..."

Dr. Richardson chuckled. "He must be feeling pretty good then."

"And it's almost totally out of his system. All of it. In less than twelve hours."

The man felt a smile cross his face. "It's amazing."

"Amazing? Shit, it's the reinvention of the wheel!" she cried. "Do you realize what this means? We've got the vaccine and the cure for every known virus on the face of the planet in one shot!"

"It doesn't mean anything unless we can apply it," he reminded her.

She sat down across from him. "What are the chances, realistically, that we can isolate that part of his DNA that's different?"

"Isolate it?" he mumbled, deep in thought. "Yes. Duplicate it?"

"Well, it must be possible. Something had to make them the way they are."

"And whatever it was meshed two completely different kinds of DNA together and made them one. That's not an easy process to duplicate. And there's also the possibility that not all of them have such immunity. We've only worked with one specimen. That's not enough for conclusive evidence."

"So we need to capture another one."

"For the board to accept this as fact? Yes. We need a variable."

She nodded slowly. "And then what?"

"Well, if this theory is proven. If they really are so unsusceptable to disease..."

"We'll attempt to recreate the mutagen," Callihan finished. Richardson nodded. "Do you have any idea how?"

The man considered that. "Perhaps we could reverse the process somehow," he suggested. "And turn him back into an ordinary turtle."

"Or into a human," Callihan smiled.

Richardson studied her for a moment. "That could have very dangerous legal ramifications," he concluded. "I mean, with the controversy raised over experiments like cloning, you don't think the American public will raise hell over turning animals into humans?"

Dr. Callihan shrugged. "Who says they have to know?"

***

Michaelangelo leaned forward on the ledge and looked down at the city streets. It was getting dark again, and he was waiting for that second wind. But it wasn't coming. He wanted so badly to close his eyes. Just to lay down right here on the rooftop and go to sleep. But he couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't. He wouldn't be able to get back up.

"Mike?"

He turned as Leonardo appeared behind him, and nearly fell over. His coordination was all messed up. He could barely stand. "Find anything?" he asked.

Donatello stepped out of the shadows and leaned against his bo. "Think we found the bar he went to," he informed. "The bartender's name is Missy, and she recognized his name."

"Described him pretty well, too," Leo added. "Personality, at least. Never saw his face."

"Which would also be consistant with him."

"What'd she say?" Mike questioned. "Does she know where he is?"

Leo studied his brother. He looked like he was about ready to drop dead. Leonardo wasn't surprised. Of all of them, Michaelangelo seemed the most worried. Not that Leo wasn't worried. He'd had a hard time sleeping, knowing that his brother was missing and possibly dead. He hadn't slept soundly in the week and a half that Raphael had been gone. But he wasn't sure that Mikey had slept at all. Rei was worried about him, and he didn't blame her. He knew all too well the way that Mike could get when he lost control.

It wasn't time to panick yet. After all, this was Raph they were talking about. He could handle himself pretty well. And it would be just like him to waltz through the front door some night acting like nothing was wrong, and yell at Leo for daring to be worried. And if he was in trouble, it was only a matter of time before they got an ultimatum from Shredder, or they found him and rescued him. He could last until then. Raphael was strong. No one knew that better than Leo. But still, he couldn't shake the fear that rested deep inside of him.

Splinter was worried, but he tried not to show it. It was pointless. They all knew him too well. He spent hour after hour meditating, and he never came up with anything conclusive about where his son might be. That, perhaps, was the one thing that worried Leonardo. If Splinter couldn't find him in his mind, how were they supposed to find him in the outside world?

"She said he might have left with a man he was talking to," Don answered. "Tall, dark hair, mustache, glasses. Could've been Middle Eastern, but she wasn't sure."

"Any idea?" Leonardo asked. He knew that of all of them, Mike would know best who Raphael's friends were.

Michaelangelo shook his head slightly, his eyes closing on their own. "I don't know him."

Leo watched him for a moment. "Why don't you go home and get some sleep," he suggested.

"No," Mike protested firmly, forcing his eyes open again.

"Mike, you're exhausted," Leo observed. "Just take a few hours. We'll keep looking."

Leo realized too late that he'd said something very wrong. "I'm fine!" Mike yelled. "Just because I'm younger doesn't mean I can't keep up!"

"I didn't mean it like that," Leo protested.

"Well how did you mean it, Leo?" he yelled. The frustration had been building inside of him and he stood back and watched as it all came spilling out of his mouth. What burned him was that he knew his brother was right. He wasn't as strong as they were, and that hurt. Especially since this was his best friend they were talking about. "I'm fucking fine, okay!"

At that moment, Leo knew he wasn't fine. When Mike started to sound like Raph, he was way past the point of fine. He needed sleep, or maybe Rei to talk to him and calm him down. Probably both. Whatever he needed, he sure as hell wasn't going to get it out here. "Go home, Mike," he ordered.

"No."

"That wasn't a suggestion," Leo informed.

Mike clenched his teeth and felt tears well up in his eyes. He spun away from his brothers before they could see him cry.

***

Raphael awoke slowly to the sounds around him. They were back. Damn them. Maybe he could pretend to be asleep for a little longer. He felt a needle touch his arm and gasped at the sudden fire of whatever they'd injected into him. His eyes flew open involuntarily. "Good evening," Alex smiled sadistically.

"You bastard," Raphael mumbled under his breath.

The man walked behind him. He wasn't the only one in the room, Raph knew. There were at least two of them. Raphael's attention was drawn first to the soreness in his arm and then to the wall of monitors in front of him. For whatever reason, they'd left him in here for the night. He didn't mind. It gave him more to look at than the white room. As always, the lights were dim, and he could see his home clearly.

Rei was asleep on the couch, the TV dancing with images from a show Raph didn't recognize. Michaelangelo stood behind the couch for a moment, looking down on her. Then he turned away and headed toward his room.

"Let's leave it alone until morning." Raphael could hear the quiet murmuring from behind him. "We don't wanna shock its system until that drug runs its course or it could have a heart attack."

Raph closed his eyes, clenching his teeth in anger and humiliation. When he got out of here...

They left him alone. Well, not quite alone. He was well aware of the cameras in the room, watching him. And although he was fully awake, he kept his head down and eyes closed. After a few minutes, he heard a quiet crying. He raised his eyes slowly, almost reluctantly.

Michaelangelo lay on his bed, face hidden in his arms, crying as quietly as he could manage. He wanted to scream. The frustration and the fear couldn't help him to push past the exhaustion. He was totally drained. Mike didn't like ultimatums, especially when they came from Leonardo. So now he was home, and now he felt guilt overwhelm him. He shouldn't be here, resting in his warm bed when Raph was out there, god knows where.

He heard the door open slowly, but he ignored it. There was only one person it could be, and he didn't need to turn around to see her. The mattress shifted slightly as she sat down on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Mikey?"

Hot tears burned his cheeks as he considered whether or not to answer her. "Leave me alone, Rei," he pleaded. "I don't wanna talk right now."

She said nothing. After a moment of silence, she stood up. But she didn't leave the room. He could feel her presence as she walked around the bed and undressed silently. She slipped into bed beside him and pressed to his side, one hand under her head and the other on his shoulder. She was silent for a long time.

Eventually, his tears stopped. He wiped his eyes roughly as he turned onto his side, facing her. She pressed into him and he embraced her weakly, feeling the warmth of her breasts against his plastron. "You're a mess," she whispered, wiping a streak of mud from his face. "Why do you come to bed like this? You should take a shower."

"I'm too tired," he breathed back.

She untied his bandana and carressed the side of his face gently. "Well, that's not surprising," she sighed. "You haven't slept in two days."

He was quiet for a moment. She pulled his mask away from his face and turned to set it on the bedside table. Then she pressed close to him again, tucking her head under his chin. "I feel guilty, Rei."

"Why?"

"I should be looking for him."

"Mikey, you're exhausted."

"No, Rei, you don't understand," he whispered. He pulled away and their eyes met. "If anything happens to him..."

"...it will not be your fault," she interrupted him, resting a hand against the side of his face.

He looked away from her. "I don't know what I'd do..." he murmured. He sounded like a lost child, and he knew it. "Rei, I..."

Tears stung his eyes again and he was only slightly surprised to find her kissing him. She pulled away slowly, her hands resting against the sides of his face. "Michaelangelo, you are going to find him."

"No," he corrected. "I am going to stay here and try to sleep while my brothers keep looking."

She sighed. "Mike, you can't help that you..."

"... are too damn weak to keep looking for my best friend when he could be dying out there?" he interrupted angrily.

She jerked away from him. "Michaelangelo, you listen to me," she snapped. "You are not Leonardo and you will not push yourself as hard as he does because you can not." He stared at her, somewhat shocked. "And Raphael knows that. He knows you and he knows what your capable of and he knows as well as I do that if you weren't forced to come back here, you would keep looking until you dropped dead. Now do you really think he'd ask you to do that?"

He was dumbfounded. He hadn't said anything about the argument with Leo, but she somehow knew anyway. Her face softened and she rested her hand against the side of his neck. "You sleep, Mike," she ordered quietly. "Relax, and sleep, and give your body and your emotions a chance to recover."

She kissed him gently and he welcomed her, not sure what else to do. "I love you, Michaelangelo," she whispered. "And I know you'll do your best. And Raphael knows that too."

Raphael hung his head, and heard only silence from the speakers. Somewhere far away, his brother was half-dead from searching for him, and he hated to see it. His eyes slid closed as whatever drug they'd given him began to take effect, and he felt sick to his stomach. Rest, Mikey, he pleaded silently. I'm okay...