A/N: In less than four days, my cousin was killed, my great aunt died of a massive heart attack, and I watched another aunt struggle to breathe through until she took her last labored breath. Three deaths that were almost back to back and completely unrelated to one another left me in total disbelief last week. Funerals were held on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, so you can probably imagine how chaotic my life has been lately. My aunt's death was the hardest to cope with due to the circumstances that surrounded her death. It is a sad and sickening experience to watch a loved one die in an inhumane way and be powerless to stop it. My only comfort is knowing my aunt is no longer suffering.

If you've sent me any requests or PMs, I will do my best to reply to them soon. I'm nursing a bit of a fever at the moment (sinuses…bleh), but I wanted to get this chapter of LotS posted that I didn't get a chance to post before all of this happened.

I ask that you keep my family and me in your thoughts and prayers.

Also, I've already mentioned this in detail on the last chapter of TMNT shorties! so I won't got into a rant about it here. I'll only ask that you review without flames, otherwise I will turn off the anon review feature. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :)

Chapter 24

"Holy shell…" My voice is a scratchy whisper as I watch the sickening display of muscles and joints shift beneath my brother's skin like a wild animal trapped in a burlap sack. The bones of his fingers break through his skin, elongating and thickening into something grotesque as tendons, muscles, and layers of skin chase behind them, snaking and wrapping around those bones quicker than I can blink. Just as the transparent layer of skin covers his disfigured arm, Donnie's eyes roll back and his screams stop. Leo and I grab him before he faceplants into the debris-ridden floor. We ease his unconscious body to ground as Leo cradles Don's head against his knees. He frowns with worry, pressing his fingers to the side of Don's neck.

"His pulse is too low," Leo says so low that I don't think he meant for us to hear it.

"Dude, did Donnie just grow a monster arm? ...Tell me this isn't Pizzaface all over again and that someone else actually saw this!"

Stevie Wonder couldn't have missed that, but I don't voice this sarcastic thought to Mikey.

Leo quickly strips the wrappings off his arms and wraps them around Donnie's reddened, jacked-up limb all the way down to his fingertips. Despite its hideous appearance, he's real careful as he lays the limb over Don's plastron.

Leo doesn't waste any time barking orders. "Raph, grab his legs. Mikey, there's an alley behind this building. I need you to guide us down and keep a lookout."

"On it, bruh." Mike's already out the door as Leo and I hoist Donnie between us like a hammock. I lift him up higher to get a better grip behind his knees. Shell, he's heavy.

"Careful, Raph."

"I got 'im!" I snap at Leo... not like I plan on dropping him.

We maneuver our limp brother out of the run-down supply room and, with Mikey's help, down the fire escape and to the nearest manhole. No surprise that the water level in the sewers is twice as high as it should be from the downpour of rain from the storm. My exhaustion is starting to show as I heft Don's legs up again with shaky arms. I try to keep Donnie's legs level with the rest of his body gripped in Leo's arms as I wade in sewer water just below my kneepads. Leo's walking backward, looking over his shoulder every few minutes as Mikey leads the way.

Leo looks from the brother between us back to me. "We're almost there, just a little farther."

My brows crease into a deeper frown, refusing to let Fearless see my fatigue as I lift Don's legs up again to keep them out of the water. "I said I got 'im." He looks at me again, but says nothing as he directs his attention back to Donnie. The hazy lights of the city above dully shine through the grates as they gloss over Don's body. He hasn't moved, moaned, or anything and it makes me wonder if he's—

"MASTER SPLINTER! WE FOUND HIM!"

Mikey's ridiculously loud voice pulls me away from morbid thoughts as our movements shift to higher ground when we approach the turnstiles of the lair. Splinter's already there and as we lift Don over the entrance, he takes him into his arms. Even though it's like he's carrying somebody his own size, Splinter cradles Don like he's a pillowcase full of feathers instead of the huge sack of potatoes that he feels like. We all follow Splinter into Donnie's lab where he gently lays him on the medbay pushed against the wall. Don's still unconscious as his head lolls to the side when it touches the pillow. In the blunt fluorescent lights of his lab, I step back gaping at the sight of my brother.

He's gotta be sick, 'cause he ain't supposed to look like that…. his face is slack; the dark circles around his mask-less face make his closed eyes look like sunken pits. He's nothing but extra-long limbs as I notice how thin he is. His skin is ashen gray, but I really don't know what to think of it since he was just the color of Mikey back at the rooftop. No matter how hard I try not to, my eyes keep trailing down to his disfigured arm that I had the unpleasant honor of watching warp into… into… God, I don't know what it is, or why it's happening to my brother. None of this crazy crap makes any sense.

"We found him topside on one of the rooftops. He wasn't himself…. he was terrified and paranoid about something…. something Raph and I couldn't hear, but Mikey could." Mike looks a little shocked and dumbfound by Leo's admittance.

"….It was the darkness. It's so much stronger now, Sensei. Donnie's suffocating in there." His eyes gleam with concern and sadness as he stares at our lifeless brother.

"His aura," Splinter nods, understanding the Mikey's gibberish a heck of a lot better than I am. Donnie's suffocating in the dark? What the shell, does that even mean?!

"I think something happened before we found him." Leo steps forward as he fills Splinter in.

"I assume this 'something' is the cause of his wounded arm?" Splinter questions as he takes the wrapped and misshapen limb briefly in his hands. Tuh… he don't know the half of it.

"No, that totally happened after we found him," Mikey offers from beside me.

Splinter's whiskers twitch as he looks across the three of us before turning back to Donnie's arm. We tried, but his arm still managed to get wet in the sewers. Sensei starts unraveling the damp wrappings around our brother's arm. The sound reminds me of sticky tape being peeled back. I can feel the blood drain from my face as I realize Don's skin is clinging to the wrapping. Splinter realizes this too as he abruptly stops and looks at Don who still hasn't moved through this painful-lookin' ordeal.

"Leonardo, get the ointment in the top drawer of the dresser in my room; Michelangelo, fill a basin with warm water…."

This is bad…. really bad. My pounding heart is the only thing I hear drumming in my ears as I stare at my deathly-still brother. What if his arm rots off, or his other arm starts growing and rips him apart?... Is he still breathing?

"RAPHAEL!" I jump as my name cracks like a whip past Master Splinter's lips.

"Get the first-aid kit, now!"

My cheeks burn with shame from my physical and mental slowness. Dumbly, I stumble backward toward Donnie's shelf and clumsily grab the big red tool box with the white cross on it. The box is roughly taken from my hands as Master Splinter lets it drop loudly on the bedside table. Leo and Mikey are already back with their instructed supplies. I stand back, away from my father and brothers as they shift and handle things too fragile for my brute and forceful touch.

None of this makes sense. Sure, Don's been acting a little emo lately, but on the roof, he completely crossed the line of sanity and ran full slam into Crazy-ville, like something in that oversized brain of his just snapped. There was something dangerous and wild in his eyes, but it doesn't explain the monster arm, as Mikey calls it. I can't help but wonder if the Kraang managed to get their tentacles on my brother before we got to him, doing something to him that screwed up his mind and body. Just the thought of those wads of alien chewing gum experimenting on my brother makes my blood boil. My fists clutched at my sides, I know I should be doing something, anything aside from standing here like an idiot. Oh, God, Don….

My eyes burn as I blink away the moistened blurriness. He's too still…. nobody living should be that still. Don should at least be screaming his head off in pain from all the poking and prodding, but he's…. he's just lying there….

Donatello….. What has happened to you?

My sons are quick to retrieve my requested supplies as I work to disinfect his arm. I am careful as I peel back the filthy and damp bandages my sons used as their only alternative to protect Donatello's arm from infection. Even in my gentleness, some of the skin still detaches with the discarded wrappings. As I sponge over the reddened areas with disinfectant and thoroughly pat it dry; a more attentive look reveals that this isn't an injury as I previously thought. There are no signs of bruises or gashes…. but his arm has grown.

As I feel along his shoulder and down his bicep, the skin is no longer textured with small smooth scales like his brothers, but with dry and thick calloused bumps and ridges. Even in its enlarged and deformed state his arm appears…. Unharmed.

My breath catches in astonishment as I trail further down this new arm to the peeling, raw skin around his hand and wrist. The broken and irritated flesh quickly starts knitting together a layered tapestry of skin. I gently touch the newly formed covering to find it already hardening to match the armor-like appearance of the rest of his arm. Taking in the full appearance of this limb, it is obvious his body was not ready for this rapid growth. The cuff of where his shoulder meets the inside of his shell is stretched to its limit and I fear it may crack.

"Did he come in contact with mutagen? " I ask my oldest. Knowing the lives we live, it is the only reasoning I can fathom for this strange mutation.

"No… at least not when we found him. He… he was covered in blood." Leonardo pauses as he pulls another stitch through the deep cut on his brother's temple.

"Since there are no other wounds aside from the one on his head, I assume it was not his blood."

"I… I don't think it was. You were right, Sensei, he wasn't stable when we found him…. And then his arm…." His face pales considerably at the mention of the appendage. "It just… it just changed—"

"Into a monster arm," Michelangelo finishes his sentence, his countenance in a state of disbelief.

"And he's been unconscious since then," Leonardo concludes as he finishes the last threaded stitch on Donatello's brow.

Raphael has remained surprisingly silent as his brothers and I tend to Donatello to the best of our abilities. The dark haze in his emerald eyes and the tremors he tries to hide tells me his restless anger needs an outlet in this situation where he feels helpless to revive his brother. However, I cannot soothe the flames of his compressed frustrations at the moment.

Even with all of our ministrations, Donatello has yet to awaken and something warns me that if he does not wake soon, he may not wake at all.

If it were not for the weak pulse at his neck, I would have already thought him lost. Cupping the side of his head against my hand, my thumb gently strokes the unwounded side of his brow. Placing my other hand on his plastron, I close my eyes and listen for the warm hum of his aura. I open my spiritual senses to the presence of my son. I am not fully recovered from my first connection with him, yet I push myself to try harder to feel my son's aura, but I feel nothing.

Please, my son, please hold on.

Dizziness clouds my mind as the extra effort drains me, but it is worth it when I feel the weak flutter of my son's spirit. I sigh with relief but I know Donatello is not out of the woods yet. Such a weak presence means his spirit may not be with his body much longer. His skin is cool and clammy, but not feverish. If his skin held a fever, it would at least serve as a sign that he was still fighting. However, his body resembles one who no longer has the will to fight.

Fear swells within my heart. Michelangelo said that Donatello was suffocating…. that this evil within my son is stronger. What if I have already lost Donatello to the dark parasite within his aura? No, I mustn't think that. No matter how faint, his aura is still there. This fact alone gives me hope. Even with this faith, I am not foolish enough to believe I can once again enter Donatello's spiritual plane in my weakened state. I will need help. I look over to my three sons, still wet and cold from the storm, weariness making their shoulders droop and bodies sway, but worry for their brother keeps them upright, watching me with anxious and expectant eyes.

"What can we do, Sensei?" my youngest asks as the willingness in his eyes—in all of their eyes—overpowers their fear.

"Your brother's spirit is weak. At the moment, I am not strong enough to reach out to him in the spirit realm alone. I will need the help of all of you. We must meditate to connect with him."

"Meditate?... Meditate?! His freakin' arm just mutated and we're just gonna sit here and meditate? No offense Sensei, but we should be out there bustin' up Kraang! I know those pink slimeballs are behind this!"

"And when you find the Kraang, will you suddenly have knowledge of what is wrong with your brother? Are you so sure these creatures are the cause of your brother's plight?" I am calm, but my voice holds an undeniable sternness that my hot-tempered son knows better than to challenge. He squeezes his knuckles, eliciting a cracking sound as grunts down any argument he intended to speak. I sigh deeply. Raphael means well in his passion and is simply trying to help his brother in a manner that is most familiar to him. However, he must understand his recklessness holds no grounds and is simply delaying Donatello the help he desperately needs right now. "Your brother made it known to me before he fled the lair that he was sick. Donatello holds the pieces of this scattered puzzle, but if his spirit is too weak to fight, then any efforts to save him will be in vain. If you do not wish to help your brother, then…"

"Okay… I get it. I'll do… whatever you need me to, Sensei." Even as he tries to calm his temperament, his passion, his willingness is ever bright. That is all I can ask for at such a dire moment.

"Good." With everyone on one accord, I gather blankets to warm Donatello as well as my freezing sons. Aside from Michelangelo's mishap in touching Donatello's aura, none of my sons have ever connected with someone's aura before. It is best they are comfortable as not to cause undue stress on their own bodies by concentrating through cold bodies and chattering teeth.

"My sons, it is important that you follow my instruction while connecting with Donatello's spiritual energy. There is another presence there with every intent of destroying your brother's spirit. I fear he has been fighting this presence for a long time and can no longer fight it by himself. He needs our help. Now, clear your minds, we do not have much time."

TBC

A/N: Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review :) With things happening in RL, I'm not sure when my next update will be, but rest assured this story is far from finished! I haven't written much of the next chapter yet, but I'll leave you guys with a few quotes:

"What did you do?"

"Didn't Sensei just say not to touch anything?!"

"GET DOWN!"

Until next chapter,

Poetique