The solution was as simple as it was savage. A good grip on the hilt. A sharp, precise yank and the sai would be dislodged. Don swallowed, trying and failing to ignore that the solution also involved pulling a blade out of his brother's flesh. That if his hand slipped on the bloodied hilt, or if he surrendered to the urge to faint, he could severe a tendon, slice open a vein. Raphael could have a paralyzed limb, or bleed to death. And Don could not stop his hands from trembling.
His numb thoughts were interrupted by the irritated sigh as Raphael ground out, "What the hell you waitin' on, Don? Just pull the damn thing out already."
Raph's voice was a whispered snarl, heaved out from his clenched teeth. Don eyed him worriedly. Raphael's lips were curled back against his teeth, eyes withered and shut. His frame tremored with the erratic breaths that kept getting choked on his clamped jaws.
"Don?" A rasped whisper, as Raphael rolled his head towards him.
"Yes, Raph?"
"How's Leo?"
Don's face twisted into a mask of hatred as he glared over his shoulder. Leo was still sprawled and oblivious where he had collapsed.
"He's alright." Don whispered, curtly, as Raphael weakly shifted.
Don scowled down at him, and lay restraining hands over his shoulders. "Stay still. Moving can only make this worse."
Raphael tensed at the touch, but gave Don a weary smirk for his concern. "Layin' still isn't improving the situation, bro."
Eyes narrowing, Raphael stared at the curved silloutte of Leo's shell.
Tilting his head towards Leo, Raph said, softly, "Don't hate Leo over this, Don."
Don flinched, stunned into silence. "Raph, he stabbed you! He-"
"This ain't Leo." Raphael hissed out. Shutting his eyes, he exhaled tiredly, "Leo ain't like this."
Don's lips tightened. "You mean to tell me that Leo's not responsible?"
Raphael slid his eyes shut with a hiss of pain. Seeing Don's anguished hatred made his gut twist, as he abruptly shifted.
"Damn it, Don, never mind about Leo now! Ya getting this out, or not?" Raph exploded, and lurched upward.
Don frowned and gently held him back, mindful of the mangled limb.
Raph made a small, choked sound, and slumped.
Don apologetically pat Raph's shell, slid helpless hands against Raph's tense tremble.
Giving the kitchen a tortured glance, Don whispered. "I'm sorry, Raph. I know that it hurts."
"Hurts like hell." Raph snarled , as he glared at the kitchen. "What the hell are they doin' anyway? Bakin' a cake?"
"I...I don't know." Don muttered, worriedly. "We need clean bandages to stop the bleeding, and disinfectant. And God only knows how many stitches."
"Oh, goody." Raphael sighed, with an eyeroll. "This just gets better and better."
"Raph, will you please take a pain-killer?" Don didn't attempt to mask the plea, as he stared, wide-eyed at the sai imbedded in Raph's wrist and the dojo mat.
"It's going to be excruciating. And I don't want you going into shock."
"Already hurts like hell! How could it possibly hurt more?" Raphael ground out through clenched teeth.
Narrowing his eyes, he raised his head, and met Don's worried gaze with a resolute shake of his head.
"I meant it when I said I was going to pull this damn thing out."
"And I'll knock you out with my bo before that happens." Don said quietly, with an eye ridge raised in challenge.
"I'd advise you not to test that, Raphael." Don answered Raphael's dismay with finality.
Mercifully, they heard the soft shuffle of Splinter's footfalls over the bricks. The old rat gave Don a reassuring smile as he lay the ziplock bag in his hands.
"What needs to be done, my son?"
Don didn't answer the gentle question, as he inwardly groused in frustation. They had no rubber gloves. He could probably procure an antibiotic, but...
Don turned to Splinter, as he opened the bottle of benatine, and started swathing Raph's skin from fingers to elbow in the disinfecteant.
"There's two things, Master Splinter. I'm going to need you to hold Raphael down, in case he tries to curl when I pull this out. And afterwards, to apply pressure to the wound."
Splinter nodded grimly, as he peeled open the guaze and the bandages. The old rat was mindful of not ruining the sterility, but there was little to be done in a sewer.
Raphael scowled when Don finished painting his flesh with the disinfectant, and jerked his head towards the sai.
"Are you gettin' it out now, or what?"
Don swallowed hard, trying to fight down the panic that now fluttered against his ribs like a trapped bird.
He took a wad of clean rags, folded it into a compact bundle, and whispered, "I need you to bite down on this."
Raphael stared at it in distaste, and shook his head with a grunt. "I don't wa-"
"Damn it, Raph, just do it! Quit fighting me on this! Please!" The explosion of words landed hard, and fractured at their feet.
"Fine." Raphael spat, as he flopped his head back to the mat. Sighing in irritation, he opened his mouth wide, teeth bared and waiting.
Don carefully slid the gag over his teeth, and Raphael snapped his jaws together with another grunt, waiting.
Don took a steadying breath, as he gestured towards Splinter. "Master Splinter, I need you to grip Raph's arm, here, and here. Over his palm, and, there, right below the wound. It is absolutely imperative that Raph stays as still as possible, so that the sai doesn't cut anything else."
Splinter's paws were trembling as he lay both on Raphael's arm. He could feel Raphael's muscles flickering under his skin, bones shuddering like trapped animals.
Splinter shuddered at the smell of blood that was so much stronger now. He forced himself to meet Raphael's eyes with gentle reassurance.
Raphael's face was crumbled with pain, the dull gleam of sweat coating his forehead like a second skin. Raphael rolled his eyes to his father, and latched onto his gaze.
"Soon this will be over with, my son. The pain will stop."
Don's head snapped up, and he shook his head, minutely. The only way the pain would stop is if Raphael fainted. And after seeing the withered agony on Raph's face,
it would be a possibility.
"Raph." Don blanched at the dull, searching effort it took Raph to meet his eyes. "I'm going to need you to stay very, very still. I'm going to do this as quick as possible,
but it's still going to be very, very painful."
Raphael's good hand worked itself up from the floor as he yanked the gag from his mouth. "I trust ya, Don. It's gonna be alright."
Raphael smirked around the gag as he lay back, shut his eyes, and drew in a long, steadying breath.
"My son, are you ready?" Splinter whispered, as Raphael trembled, but nodded.
"Donatello, are you ready?"Splinter asked softly, as Don slid to his knees and stared down at the sai hilt.
Don remembered dipping his head in agreement to the hellish task before him. Numbly, he slid shaking fingers over the handle of the sai, ignored the flinch of pain, and the small cry that not even Raph could hold back.
The metal felt cold against his palm, as he arranged his fingers to a more steadying grip. He cursed the tremble of his hands out of the fear that he would slip and hack more flesh, severe a tendon, poke and artery and kill his own brother.
Raphael tensed, as if to brace himself, his good hand curling into a fist against the mat.
Splinter exhaled sharply, as his knuckles went white from holding the limb to the mat.
"On the count of three." Don whispered, as Splinter nodded, and Raphael shut his eyes.
"Three." The word slithered out, as Don numbly considered the best way to pull out the blade. Half a foot of steel in flesh would hurt, no matter what he did.
A sharp, savage yank would be the quickest, and less painful. A slower, more careful withdrawal would guard against knicking muscles or veins.
Don thanked God for the clinical detachment as he ignored the quaking shudder beneath his palm.
"Two." Slow withddrawal it was. Keep it gentle, and keep it steady. Make sure that Raph doesn't jerk away or try to jostle anything. How would that be possible? There's a weapon embedded in his arm, and he's impaled to the mat. When I actually start pulling this thing, he's going to be choking and writhing from the agony.
And there's nothing I can do about the pain.
Don's thoughts clouded, skittered across his brain. He wanted to vomit.
"One."
The scream tore from Raphael's throat, just as the blade was torn free from his flesh. Don couldn't remember pulling it out, only that strangled cry, and the blood spilling hot and wet over his fingers. The bright flare of a sai dripping scarlet.
Raphael lurched upward, his muscles writhing with instinctive agony, as Splinter held him down to the dojo mat.
The scream was muffled from the jaws clenched tight, and the gag still wedged between Raphael's teeth. Raphael shuddered, and shut his eyes as the tears trickled down his cheeks.
The sob was louder than any scream.
Splinter was nearly folded in half over his son's arm, as he clamped down on the blood flow. Raphael quaked beneath him, as Don hastily put his hands over Raphael's neck, monitoring the pulse.
Raphael didn't wince when Don shoved the needle and thread through the flesh, in an effort to stitch the gaping hole up as quickly as possible. The tattered edges of flesh were hastily knit back together in neat little stitches, and then carefully swathed in more benetine. Splinter silently lifted the arm, with the care of handling a holy relic, as Raphael bit his lip to keep from blubbering any more. Don dressed the wound, first bandaging up the slit from palm to elbow. Finally, to protect the wound from being jostled, he strapped up the wrist brace.
Through the whole thing, Raphael lay, rigid and heaving, eyes, fists, and teeth clenched from the pain.
Gently nudging Raph, Don said softly, "Raph? It's over. We're done."
Raphael just nodded, before cracking his eyes open. "Yeah.." It was rasped out, and exhausted.
Raphael pawed at Don's hand, with the tired smirk gracing his lips through the white, withered hurt.
"Thanks, Don. Ya did good."