Author's Notes: Not quite fluff, but much less on the gross this chapter. Some more Donnie/Science moments. Keep in mind this is science fiction when reading...emphasis on the fiction :0)

Next Chapter: What have Raph and Leo been up to

Enula: I hadn't thought about doing a Halloween story, but now I am. I'm thinking something creepy and moody as apposed to gross. I think I might have met my quota on gross for awhile.


Chapter Sixteen

"So…what is it?" Michelangelo asks, tapping his finger lightly on the side of the jar.

The pink, squiggly thing rolls and curls around itself and seems to flee from the noise. It makes my stomach flip in unison. That thing was in my arm. That thing was growing in my arm. I turn away and raise a hand to my mouth. I don't want to look at it anymore. I thought the pain was going to be the worst of it. I had felt that pain down to my bones. I felt that pain with every molecule in my body to the point where I wondered if it was the only feeling left in the world. I thought the pain was the worst of it. That was before I pulled that horrific thing from my arm.

"I don't know, Mikey," I say with a sharp breath. "Stop tapping the glass."

He pauses with his finger mid-tap and sits back with a pout. "Kinda looks like a Kraang tentacle," he says, his freckles mushing together as he crinkles his nose in dislike.

I blink, his words are frighteningly accurate and I push them away, not wanting to think about it. I only woke up a few minutes ago and my foggy mind isn't ready to consider that my arm was an incubator for a baby Kraang, or at least its tentacle. It's bad enough knowing that anything was growing underneath my skin. I shudder and try to resist the urge to scratch my arm until it bleeds.

What if there are more of those things in there?

Stop it. Don't think about it. Don't think about more of them sliding and squirming around your muscles and tendons; wrapping around your bones. I close my eyes and lean forward slightly, breathing in slowly through my nose. I'm going to throw up again. As soon as I woke April and Mikey insisted that I drink more water and now it's sloshing around in my otherwise empty stomach, threatening to come back up at any moment.

"Do you want to lie back down?" April asks quietly.

She is sitting next to me on the edge of the table. She helped get my arm back in its sling and stayed at my side when she was finished. Probably afraid I would keel over without someone to catch me. She rubs my carapace and I concentrate on that, not the rolling of my stomach or the dark, panicked thoughts that make me shudder. I swallow and take in another uneven breath. My head spins from sitting up straight and I lean against her for support and shake my head no.

"At least…it hurts less," I say with a meek smile when I see the unbridled worry in her eyes.

"Does it?" she asks still barely raising her voice above a whisper.

Her face is ashen and her eyes are still red from crying. It's my fault. I don't want her to be upset. I don't want her to worry.

I nod, eager to convince her that I'm improving. "Yeah, I mean, it still hurts, but, it's less," I insist.

I shouldn't keep leaning on her. I'm fairly certain I can at least stay sitting upright without falling over, but she's warm and I don't want to move. She doesn't pull away and so we lean on one other for a few, quiet moments. I could fall sleep like this if I let my eyes close. I'm so utterly exhausted and spent I could probably sleep standing up if it came to it.

"Uh, Donnie?"

I've grown to resent that configuration of words and tone of voice. All three of my brothers have their own version of it. It's tentative or shameful or in Raph's case demanding. It means they've broken something or more accurately that they need me to fix something. I close my eyes and breathe in April's scent and focus on the warmth of her pressed to my side. I haven't finished working yet, there are still things to do, still things that are broken that need fixing and so I can't stay like this any longer.

"Is the mutagen supposed to do that?" Mikey asks with a slow point to the glass container filled with the green ooze we collected from the canisters.

I have to get up. I can't see from my seat on the table and Mikey looks worried enough to start my own anxiety flaring. My feet hit the cold floor and I instantly shiver. April drapes my good arm over her shoulders, but I'm afraid I'll hurt her if I can't support the majority of my own weight. Mikey must have the same thought because he rushes over and takes her place before she can argue or take offense. The short walk over to the other table is enough to set my head spinning and my knees threaten to buckle.

Don't pass out. You just woke up, don't pass out.

"I'm gonna help you sit, all right?" Mikey says, gently lowering me to the floor in front of the canister. "Cause Dude, you weigh a ton," he adds with a nervous laugh.

I don't care why he sets me down, I'm just grateful to be off my feet. That moment of gratitude is fleeting when my eyes settle on the container of ooze behind the glass. There's something floating around in the liquid; a bunch of somethings. Little pink somethings the size of grains of rice, darting and swimming through the ooze like tadpoles. My fingers curl and I instinctively scratch at my right arm, not caring that it sends pain shooting up to my shoulder. There are things growing in the jar. Exposing the mutagen, or whatever it is, to oxygen must set off some kind of reaction.

There are probably more things growing in your arm. That jar is cold and exposed and muscles are warm and dark; the perfect place for things like that to grow and burrow.

"Stop," April says, resting her hand atop my own when I continue my frantic scratching pattern across the blackened skin. "You'll hurt yourself."

"I need to study these things," I say, changing the subject.

That's what I should focus on. Studying them, finding out how they work and most importantly how to destroy them. I can focus on the task at hand. I can fix this. I made a retro-mutagen, this should be simple. I just need to clear my head and ignore the urge to claw at the blackened skin covering my hand.

"Mikey, can you, I need some supplies," I say, fumbling a bit over the words.

Get it together. Just a little while longer and you can rest.

"What kind of supplies?" he asks, standing in front of the supply cabinet at a loss.

Yeah, what kind of supplies?

"I…umm, I think," I stutter and struggle to come up with an answer, the growing ache in my head taking most of my attention.

"Maybe you should rest first," April suggests and again it isn't really a suggestion. "Your eyes aren't going in the same direction."

"M'fine," I insist with a huff and a dismissive wave of my hand. "I need to analyze the ooze," I say reaching up to take hold of the table in an embarrassing attempt to get to my feet. I slump back to the ground. "I…I'll need a little help."

"If we help you, will you promise to rest?" April says.

She crosses her arms over her chest. I'm sure this is the only deal she's willing to make so I nod quickly.

"And you have to eat something first," she adds while I'm still nodding.

She takes that for a yes and smirks, quite pleased with herself. Mikey helps me to my feet and into the chair at my desk before running off to the kitchen with a promise to bring back the blandest thing he can find. It could be the blandest food in existence and I think I might still throw it back up. Mikey returns with a pot of weak tea and a plate of dry toast. Maybe April is right. Maybe if I get some food and drink into my stomach I'll get some of my strength back.

I finish off a cup of tea with slow, even sips. The warm liquid traveling down my sore throat feels better than I'd like to admit and I move on to tentative bites of bread. The first few swallows are a struggle and I can feel my stomach tighten and threaten to reject the food. I force down a few more mouthfuls and each bite starts to be easier than the one before it. The trembling in my body has downgraded to a slight tremor, but the pain still lingers as an angry after thought.

"Eat another piece," April says, raising an eyebrow when I start to open my mouth to argue.

"Do you want something else? I could make some rice. That's good for bad stomachs, right?" Mikey says, looking to April for support.

"That's a wonderful idea, Mikey," April answers for me and my brother darts out of the room without further comment.

"I know you think you're helping, but I really am fine," I say around a mouthful of toast. "I've got work to do."

"Uh huh," she replies, pointing at the plate. "Finish your toast."

I'm about to argue. It's a gut reaction to a lifetime of similar arguments with my family. I put the slice down and set my mouth in a determined line.

"Just eat the food, Donatello," she snaps, stopping me short.

Her voice is bordering on shrill and her eyes start to brim with tears.

Now look what you did.

"Do you have any idea what it was like? To stand back and listen to them hurt you. I could feel your pain and I couldn't do anything to help to make it better and then that…that thing in your arm. You could have…" she cuts herself short with a sharp breath and wipes angrily at the few tears that managed to break through. "So if you think for one second that I'm going to sit here and let you make yourself sick because you're too stubborn or too stupid to take care of yourself then you really are an idiot!" she says, pushing the plate closer to me with an angry clatter. "Eat the damn toast."

What is wrong with you?

"I…I'm sorry," I say, reaching out my hand and curling my fingers when she moves her shoulder to avoid my touch.

"Don't be sorry, just don't ever scare me like that again," she replies with a pout and an angry sniffle.

"I promise," I say, even though such a thing is ludicrous and impossible.

The sentiment seems to be enough and she crawls onto the chair with me, wrapping her arms around me and leaning in to bury her head in the crook of my neck. She maneuvers to avoid my injured hand and I pull her close with the other. I lean down and kiss the top of her head, shivering when she returns a kiss to the side of my neck.

"I uh, I found a sports drink in the fridge," Mikey says, adding an unconvincing cough to hide a snicker.

April doesn't seem too concerned with our sudden lack of privacy and adds another kiss to the first before sliding off the chair. "Excellent," she says, crossing the distance to my brother. "You drink this and eat your food," she says setting the blue bottle and the bowl of rice onto the desk in front of me. "And Mikey and I can start your experiments."

She's kind of perfect.

"Um, okay, yeah," I say with a nod, struggling to open the drink with my left hand.

Mikey opens the bottle and sets it back down. "Dude, I am like so good at science now. We'll have this fixed in no time."

No time might be a bit of an exaggeration. All the time, it is going to take all the time that ever was. That's a more accurate assessment. Mikey needs everything explained to him at least twice and even if he does understand the first go around he insists on a second explanation before he even considers making a move. April is more willing and capable but she is purposely moving at a slower pace; stopping every few minutes to make sure I continue eating. I try not to sound annoyed or frustrated. They're trying to help after all and there are things I can't do one handed.

You need to learn how to do things one handed.

By the time Mikey has fished one of the pink tadpoles from the ooze and placed it on a slide I'm practically itching with the need to finish the work on my own. I wait impatiently for him to make another slide of the ooze, tapping my foot in an increasingly manic pattern. I mumble a quick and possibly insincere sounding thank you and ease the slide onto the microscope. I'm not sure what I'm expecting to see; something closer to an insect or possibly invertebrate larva, like a caterpillar or grub is my first assumption. What I see when I lean in towards the microscope is infinitely more exciting than a parasitic worm.

"By Darwin's beard," I breathe, adjusting to get a better look. "Fascinating."

April bristles at my side and Mikey bounces on the balls of his feet. "What is it?" he asks, excitedly and I can't help but feel a little sting of pride that my brother is excited about science. "Is it a baby Kraang?"

I shake my head, sitting up. "No, not even remotely. The outside is tissue based, I'd have to do further tests to decipher what kind, but its insides are completely non-organic," I say with a little laugh.

Fascinating.

April leans over to get a look for herself and Mikey just stares at me and blinks.

"So…" he says, holding his hands out palms up, waiting for further explanation.

"It's synthetic," I say, adding when that causes no change in his posture. "Man-made, self-replicating nanobots if I'm not mistaken. I'll need to test the density and do an x-ray florescent analysis to be certain, but there is defiantly a synthetic material present."

"So…robot tadpoles?" Mikey replies, clearly having lost his initial excitement.

"Technically, cyborg tadpoles, since there's a biological component…"

"And you don't think it's Kraang?" April asks with a frown.

"I don't think so," I reply, tapping my finger alongside my jaw in thought. I change out the slide to take a look at the ooze on its own. "The metal on the containers is definitely alien in origin, but I'm fairly certain the material inside these grubs is from Earth and the ooze itself isn't like the mutagen we've seen before. It's swimming with thousands of these things. They're microbial but they must start replicating and combining when there's a catalyst or a host to latch on to."

"So, humans are making these things?" Mikey asks, leaning over to tap the glass of the jar, causing the bigger parasite to squirm and wiggle away from the noise and vibration. "That's messed up, man."

"Who would do that?" April says with a disgusted turn of her mouth.

"Brandt Zhao industrial."

April and I turn with identical slow swivels of our heads in my brother's direction.

"It's the name on the box," he replies with a point at the rain-warped cardboard.

"What is going on in here?"

I jump at the sharp clip of Master Splinter's voice and find some solace in the fact that Mikey flinches as well.

"Donnie totally pulled a robot tadpole out of his arm," Mikey says, pointing enthusiastically at the jar and its squiggling prisoner. "Seriously, Sensei it was the grossest thing I've ever seen and I live with Raph," he says with a chuckle at his own joke.

"It's not a robot, if anything it's a cyborg," I insist and my voice raises an octave in that way I hate when I'm trying to defend myself or correct someone.

Master Splinter looks at the jar and I think his lip curls back in disgust. I can't be entirely sure with his back halfway turned. I wouldn't blame him. It is disgusting.

"You should not be out of bed," he says with a sweep of his robe and swish of his tail across the concrete. "Michelangelo, I told you to watch over him."

I don't know what anger me more, Sensei chastising Mikey or Sensei talking about me like I'm not in the room. Either way a warm anger starts to burn in my stomach. My exhaustion and lingering pain trump my logic and common sense and I'm left with the ill-fated desire to yell at Master Splinter.

"Mikey was helping me. I didn't need watching over. I needed help to fix this mess. I don't see the rest of you doing anything about it," I suck in my breath as soon as the words finish tumbling out of my mouth. "I…Sensei, I didn't mean, I'm sorry…"

"Where are your brothers?"

The question catches me off guard and I look around the room as if Leo and Raph might pop out from behind Timothy's tank or from under the computer desk. "I don't…not here," I reply with another ridiculous look around the room.

"I thought they were with you," Mikey adds and now there's worry in his voice.

Master Splinter takes hold of my face. His touch is gentle even though for some reason my pain-addled mind expects it not to be. He lifts the sling over my head and gingerly moves my hand into view, keeping the rough linen as barrier from his own skin. The blackened flesh seems to have stopped spreading, cutting off halfway up my forearm. The cracks in its surface still ooze and let off a less than pleasant smell; the original cut on my thumb and now the burrowing hole on my wrist seep black blood along with the greenish foreign liquid.

At least it doesn't hurt as much.

"That thing was in your arm?" he asks, with another nose twitch.

I nod and swallow. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to focus my eyes and I'm sure I am blinking more than one should. One of his hands is back on my face, resting across my forehead. He lets out a tiny noise that I recognize as displeasure. Like when Mikey makes an inappropriate joke or Raph and Leo fight over something inconsequential.

"You're running a fever," he says quietly.

"It's nothing," I insist. "Low grade, if anything. It's better than it was. Honestly, it's not so bad and I ate."

He makes that disapproving noise low in his throat once more and the hand on my forehead slips away. He doesn't have to believe me. It doesn't matter. I have work to do.

"Michelangelo, contact your brothers," Master Splinter says, never taking his eyes off the disaster that is my hand.

He's going to make you go to bed.

"Master Splinter, we have a big problem," I say, not bothering to argue when he drapes a blanket over my shoulders. "The mutagen isn't what we're used to. It's reverse engineered, it's full of self-replicating, parasitic nanotechnology."

"Robot tadpoles," Mikey adds with less-than helpful commentary.

I sigh and charge on, afraid that Sensei will cut me off before I'm finished. "This is what happened when a minuscule amount got under my skin. I didn't even realize it happened. I must have...some of the mutagen or whatever it is must have gotten into my cut when the canister opened," I insist, my words quickened by worry.

I lift my blacked hand to wave in his face, ignoring the nose twitch I get in response. "Leo said the Purple Dragons had a truckload of this stuff. Imagine what'll happen if they get out into the city. If one or two of these things did this imagine what a whole dispenser full of them will do. Or what they will grow in to. That was only in my arm for a few hours. They'll get bigger for sure or maybe...maybe they're meant to take over the host. I don't...I don't know. I can't think straight, but we can't...we have to stop them," I trail off and find that I can't quite catch my breath.

They'll burst through the skin and eat people's brains...probably.

"And we will, my son," he says and his hands are clasped on my arms just above the elbow.

He won't let go. I don't try to break free from his grip, but I know if I did he would hold firm. I don't know where the tremble starts. I just know that the piercing cold I thought I escaped is back and it sinks its teeth into every muscle and joint and makes me cringe. I pull the blanket tight around me and tighten every muscle in a feeble attempt to stop them from shaking.

"Master Splinter, the guys aren't answering their T-Phones."

Not answering their T-Phones? Something horrible must have happened. Leo always answers his phone. Where did they go? Why did they leave the lair? When did they leave the lair?

Mikey's voice breaks through the increasing haze over my mind. I rub my eyes and fully intend to stand up. I need to triangulate the signals from their phones so we can find their location. We'll take the Shellrazor. Mikey and I can drive it with April's help. Maybe we can bring the sound cannon. If we can save our brothers and take out some of the Kraang tech at the same time so much the better. I have to stand up. I have to clear my head. Master Splinter holds firm to my arms and there is no way I am going to stand up.

"Keep trying," he says and Mikey nods in response before lifting his phone to his ear once more.

"Can you track their location?" Master Splinter asks quietly.

Wait…what? Why isn't he telling you to go to bed?

"Hai, Sensei," I reply.

He lets go and my arms feel cold in his absence. He carefully puts my injured hand back in its sling. "Find your brothers and then we will…deal with this," he says with a curl of his lip and a small gesture towards the jar and its prisoner.