Author Notes: Back to Donnie POV. I wanted to make this chapter fluffy...that didn't happen. Some gross times ahead :0)
Thanks again for the comments, I really enjoy reading them.
Chapter Fifteen
It's cold. Why is it so cold? I fall asleep for a few minutes and they let the heating system break? That could take days to fix. I'll have to fix it. It can't be this cold forever. It should be warmer…and brighter. It was bright before, too bright and too loud. Now it's cold and dark and very quiet. I'm not sure which is worse.
Your eyes are closed, of course it's dark.
My thoughts sound far away and muffled, but they're not wrong. I try to open my eyes. I don't want to be in the dark anymore. It shouldn't be this difficult. In the grand scheme of things there aren't that many muscles involved. It shouldn't be this difficult. I groan from the struggle of it. The tiny sound echoes in the silence and makes my head ache. I don't give up and eventually I manage to lift my eyelids. Everything is a blur, but at least it isn't dark anymore.
"Whoa, easy, Bro. Don't try to move, all right?"
"M-Mikey?"
It hurts to talk. My voice is little more than a barely coherent rasp and I groan when the few syllables are enough to send a searing scrape of pain down my throat. Why does my throat hurt so much? Oh, right…the screaming. The last few hours come back to me in bits and pieces. There was yelling and my whole family was there…April was there and there was pain. There's a hand on my shoulder and the cold skin starts a tremble through my body that makes me grind my teeth. Why is it so cold?
"Co…cold," I rasp through my teeth, trying to blink away the persistent blur to my vision.
"Cold? You're cold? Okay, I'll get you a blanket. I can do that. Hang on, I'll get you a blanket," Mikey says, lifting his hand from my shoulder.
He's all quick words and nervous catches of breath. He sounds scared. I don't want him to be scared. I should sit up, show him I'm all right and that there's nothing to be afraid of. Just sit up; nothing to it. I sit up every day.
Just use your core; lean back on your elbows if you have to. Why is this so difficult?
I haven't moved at all. Not even close. It's taking most of my concentration to keep my eyes open, so sitting up is entirely out of the question. Mikey drapes a blanket over me and I've never been more grateful for anything in my life. It feels heavier than a blanket should, but I don't care. It's warm and soft and warm. It's making it more difficult to keep my eyes open, but I won't close them.
"Thanks," I murmur, the word ending in a scratchy cough.
"Do you want some water?" Mikey asks and his hand is back on my shoulder.
I can feel the coldness of it even through the blanket. I nod, not wanting to risk speaking again. He leaves my side again and off in the distance I can hear him clanging around followed by the rushing sound of running water. I try to clear my vision. Somehow I manage to snake my left hand up to rub my eyes. The small movement sends a twinge of pain through the right side of my body. It's only a twinge and I try to ignore it. I need to…I need to clear my head. I have things to fix.
"Do you want to sit up?"
April. It's April. Her hand lingers on the side of my face and unlike my brother her skin is warm against my own. She smells like wildflowers and I lean into the small touch. I wish I was back at her apartment with that awful movie playing in the background and her hands…elsewhere.
Maybe you still are. Maybe you fell asleep and this is all just some horrible nightmare.
The pain is too present, too visceral for this to be anything but reality. I can't slip into wishes and hopes now. I have a job to do and I'm not going to get anywhere lying down. I nod in response to her question. They're both there at my side and I brace myself for the inevitable pain movement causes. I bite my bottom lip and feel my stomach give a worrisome roll as they lift me up to sitting. I dry heave. I can't help it. Luckily there is nothing left in my stomach to throw up. The nausea fades to a more manageable queasiness and I lean on Mikey until I think it's safe to take a breath.
"You gonna blow chunks, man?"
"Mikey," April snaps.
I'm glad she took my need to respond. Mikey's question is enough to set my stomach rolling again. She moves her hand in calming circles along my carapace and the pressure is the best thing I've felt in hours. Mikey tenses alongside me and I can almost make out a pout on his blurry face.
"I was just asking, 'cause if he is gonna get sick, I'd go get a bucket…"
"Please stop…talking about…vomit," I plead.
I clamp my mouth shut as another wave of nausea moves my shoulders forward and my stomach in. April circles her hand again and I put all of my focus into that touch. The feel of it is far away, more pressure than any real sensation that skin to skin would cause. It's enough. It isn't pain or nausea and I cling to that feeling until my stomach settles and the pain slows.
"Sure thing, man," Mikey says, nothing but apologetic. "Let's try to get some water in ya, all right?"
He holds a glass up to my mouth and I caution a small sip. It's cold and wet and I'm coughing before I can take another mouthful. I'm not going to give up that easily, even as the coughing jars my hand and sends another stab of pain, blinding and lightening quick coursing through my body. I reach up with my left hand to take hold of the glass. Mikey tries to shoo away my grasping fingers, but I'm persistent and he finally relents. I drink down the entire glass. I'm not sure how long it takes me. Longer than it should I'm sure. He doesn't rush me and when I've finished he takes the glass.
"Better?" he asks, more than a little hopeful.
"Yeah," I say with a nod and it isn't entirely a lie.
Anything is better than being unconscious.
The water sits like a cold and heavy rock in my stomach. I rub my eyes again and let out a small sigh of relief when my vision slowly starts to take on something close to focus. I'm still in my lab. I don't know why I thought they might have moved me. I absently reach up to curl my fingers around the leather strap that normally crosses over my chest. It isn't there and my fingers brush against the rough linen of a sling instead. It's tied securely around my neck, keeping my black and useless hand hanging like a dead-weight against my plastron.
It wasn't that bad before. It's only getting worse. You better fix this, Genius.
The dark and cracking skin stretches to my elbow and the veins in my arm pulsate black up past my shoulder and my line of vision. I wouldn't be surprised if they reached my neck. It's spreading. Whatever got into my system is spreading. I can feel panic spark to life in the cold, heavy water sitting in my stomach. I can't succumb to it. I won't. I don't have time. I can't focus on the bad right now. That won't help me get my work done. Even if the wound does smell like it's rotting and the skin on my fingers looks like a burnt hot dog.
"Dude! I told you I'd get you a bucket!" Mikey cries, unable to avoid some of the water I heave up onto the floor.
"M'sorry," I mumble, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
Nice going. Real smooth. Seriously, you're almost Zen.
"Maybe you should lie down again," April says in her stern voice that makes questions statements.
She puts her hand on my shoulder and tries to ease me back down on the table. I don't have the energy for any real resistance, so I simply lean forward. I hope my weight alone will be enough of a struggle for her not to succeed. She's not amused and I hear a truncated sigh that is cut short by pursed lips.
"No," I say with a sharp tone I didn't originally intend to use. "I have…I can't. I have to fix this."
"What you have to do is rest," she replies.
She puts more effort into her next attempt, but luckily I'm heavier than I look and she doesn't get very far.
"If I don't fix this…who will?" I insist.
I don't mean to sound like I have no faith in my family, in her. I don't mean to sound conceded or self-important or whatever else that question makes me, but...
But if you don't fix this who will?
I'm about to ramble out an apology or an explanation when I see her eyes narrow slightly. I open my mouth, nothing comes out. My attention is suddenly and painfully pulled elsewhere. Apologizing or explaining myself is now the furthest thing from my mind. Panic flairs to life again in my empty stomach and my eyes are probably as round as dinner plates. There is something moving under the skin of my arm.
"What's wrong?" April asks and her annoyance is gone.
She sounds as panicked as I feel and I'm sure I must be radiating the emotion at every frequency. There's another unmistakable movement under the hardened black skin of my forearm and wrist. It's a quick swish and roll, like Master Splinter's tail sliding across the ground when he's annoyed.
"M-Mikey?" I say, trying to swallow back the worst of my panic. I need to focus. "Can, can you please get me a pair of tweezers…and a jar, I need a jar."
He looks between April and I with one fluid whip of his head before nodding aggressively. "I'm on it," he says, darting over to the work bench along the wall.
I don't even care that it sounds as though he's breaking things while he searches.
"Donnie, what is going on?" April asks and her grip tightens on my shoulder.
I swallow again and can't hold back a shudder when it swishes again. "There is…there's something…moving," I say, keeping my voice down so my brother won't overhear.
She let's go of my arm and her eyes go wide. "What do you mean, something is moving?" she hisses, staring at my arm as though something might rip through the skin at any moment and eat her brain.
Oh my God, what if that happens?! That's what always happens!
"Here, is this good?" Mikey asks.
He's out of breath and slams the metal tweezers and Mason jar onto the table with unneeded force.
"Yes, thank you," I reply.
My voice is frighteningly calm and does nothing to lessen the look of panic and fear on their faces. I move the sling over my head and the pain in my arm flares to life again. It doesn't matter. It can't matter. It's going to hurt a lot worse in a few seconds so I better get used to the idea. I lay my arm on the table, these small movements are enough to make me lightheaded and I'm not entirely convinced I'll be able to do this without passing out.
"Mikey, put on some gloves. I need you to hold my arm down," I say the instructions in the same, unnervingly calm voice and my brother stares back at me with doubt in his eyes.
"D, I don't…let me go get Master Splinter. He'll know what to do."
If you don't do this now you'll lose your nerve.
"No, Mikey, I need you to help me," I say and it comes out pleading.
If it was anyone else I would probably be embarrassed, but it's Mikey. He won't make fun of me and he won't judge. We're a team after all. He flinches and I can see him struggle with the decision.
"All right, but if it goes wrong I'm getting Master Splinter," he says, putting a hand on his hip and doing his best to look stern and resolute.
"Yes, okay, deal," I say with a quick nod as another swish in my arm makes my muscles clench.
April looks less than convinced, but doesn't argue against my request. Mikey takes hold of my arm between the shoulder and elbow with one hand and presses down on my fingers with the other. He's not even using a fraction of his strength and the pain is enough to make my eyes water and my resolve falter. I grind my teeth and hope my grimace isn't too noticeable. If he thinks he's hurting me he'll let go. I can't let that happen. I won't be able to do this if he's not holding me down.
You'll probably pass out anyway. What then?
"Okay, hold on tight," I say. "Don't let me pull away. It's very important you hold on."
He nods and I feel his grip tighten. It's now or never and another swish across my wrist is the only incentive I need to move forward. I stretch out my hand as best as I'm able. The skin at the crease on the underside of my wrist has split open and oozes onto the table. I take a deep breath and use the tip of the tweezers to pry the skin further apart. The pain flashes white across my vision and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. The sharp, metallic taste of blood in my mouth distractions me for a few a few brief, glorious seconds from the searing pain in my arm.
Can't stop now. Hurry up!
I lean forward, pushing the blackened skin further apart. My stomach gives a roll and I hear April gasp. There's something there. I didn't imagine it. It's pink and skinny and barbed at the edges and it is squirming away from my attempts to grab it with the tweezers. I struggle involuntarily against Mikey's grip, but my brother holds strong and if I had more of my wits I might have thanked him for it. Every failed attempt to grab hold of the squirmy, pink mass sends a new bolt of pain shooting through my body and a cold sheen of sweat threatens to make me lose my grip.
Press to the left. It'll go right and then you can grab it.
"G-got it!" I cry around a groan as the tweezers close around the end of it.
I pull, careful to keep a firm grip without ripping the mass in half. The last thing I want is to have to fish out another piece from my arm. It fights back, squirming and digging its barbs into my flesh. It doesn't matter. I'm not going to lose this fight. This thing is not going to burrow into my arm. I will not let that happen. It loses its grip and I pull it free, holding it above the table with a hand that trembles uncontrollably. It looks pinker somehow out in the open as it attempts to curl up around the end of the tweezers. I think it would be about six centimeters long if stretched end to end.
"Oh, Dude, I think I need the bucket," Mikey whimpers, his hands still clasped around my arm.
"Jar, jar get the j-jar," I pant.
He slides it across the table and I drop it into the glass container along with the tweezers. April slams the lid shut and then takes a step back, staring at the thing with a face twisted in disgust. I'm going to pass out. My vision is narrowing to a pin point and the room is spinning. I think I throw up the remaining water in my stomach because I faintly hear Mikey's cries of protest before I collapse back onto the table. I don't have time for this. I need to fix…
