Author's Notes: Angst ahead, you've been warned :0)
Chapter Eighteen
"Where the heck are you guys? I've been calling!"
I flinch at the sound of Mikey's shout from the other room and roll my computer chair back in an attempt to hear the rest of the conversation. He's on to me and closes the door to the lab before saying anything else. He doesn't have to hide. If they want to talk about me they can do it to my face. I roll back up to the computer desk, the small movement enough to set my head spinning. I rub my eyes in a vain attempt to clear my vision. The ache in my head is only getting worse and the blanket around my shoulders is all that's keeping the worst of the chills at bay.
"We should take a break," April says gently, even though she means that I should take a break. "It sounds like Mikey got a hold of Leo."
"I'm almost through the security," I mumble.
Ignoring her suggestion entirely I turn my fractured attention back to the computer screen. I have been trying for the better part of an hour to break through the security clearance on Brandt Zhao industrials' company database. It should not be this difficult. I should have gotten through ages ago. I rub my eyes again and squint at the stream of numbers across the screen. They keep blending together. I would have been through ages ago if the numbers would stop blending together.
Or maybe you're not as smart as you think you are.
The screen goes black and my gut reaction is to curse and throw a fit. I bite back a few choice words when I see April's finger on the monitor's on/off switch.
"What are you doing?" I snap, my patience and stability wearing dangerously thin.
The fever might be cooking my brain, but even I know to back down when she levels me with that glare. I try to appeal to her sense of logic.
"I'm nearly through," I insist. "A few more minutes and I know I'll get it."
I attempt to turn the monitor back on and receive a slap to the back of my hand for my troubles. The lab door opens and I use the squeal of distraction to move around April's hand and turn the screen on with a hiss. She does not look pleased about it. Master Splinter sweeps into the lab with his arms full of a large wooden box. It houses his collection of medicinal herbs and oils and I'm sure I'm in store for some disgusting tasting tea.
"Your brothers are on their way home," he says, setting the box on the table.
"Uh huh," I mumble, turning my attention back to the computer screen.
The numbers are getting smaller and blurrier and it takes me a second to realize Master Splinter has grabbed the back of my chair and is pulling it away from the desk. He takes hold of my face, resting the back of his hand against my forehead with that disappointing noise deep in his throat not far behind. There's a twitch of his nose…no, not a twitch, a sniff and he pulls a slight face. I know what's wrong. I can smell it to. I've been trying to ignore it with varying degrees of success. The wounds on my hand are infected.
"April, could you please help Michelangelo mount the sound cannon on the Shellraiser," Master Splinter says, never taking his eyes off my face.
"Sensei…"
I start to argue, partly from fear and more importantly because I don't like anyone else working on the vehicle unless under my direct supervision and even then I'm not thrilled about the prospect. There's that disappointed throat noise again and I decide this isn't a battle worth fighting. April looks as though she might pick up the slack and argue for me, but earns her own noise and only gives a small nod in response. She leans in and places a light kiss on my cheek and I'm too far gone to get embarrassed or care what Sensei thinks about the open show of affection. Her lips feel like fire against my skin and I grip the edges of the blanket around my shoulders, trying to keep another round of tremors from getting the best of me. He waits until they're gone to speak.
"The wound has gone south," he says simply, reaching up to lift the sling over my head.
Was it ever north?
A delirious, little chuckle tumbles past my lips and his disapproval deepens. The pain is back and makes me forget even the memory of laughing. I grip the arm of the chair with my good hand and hiss out a breath between my teeth. The smell is worse without the rough material of the sling to buffer most of it and my stomach gives a threatening roll. The wound on my wrist is the biggest offender, open and swollen and weeping something that looks like dirty dishwater. My thumb isn't exponentially better and I'm certain both will require medical treatment that isn't exactly easy to come by in the sewer.
"I will need to cut away the rotting flesh," he says as if commenting on the weather.
The words 'rotting flesh,' send my stomach rolling again and I can't ignore the offending smell any longer. It fills my nose and claws down my throat until it's pulling up the food Mikey and April tried so hard to force me to eat. Master Splinter must have known that was a forgone conclusion because he holds the wastepaper basket up until I'm done retching. I spit and try to clear the taste of sick from my mouth with little success.
"M'sorry," I murmur when he takes the basket away.
A ninja should be able to control his body.
There's a soft click of porcelain on the hard surface of the desk and he drapes another blanket over my shoulders. "Drink the tea," he commands, not acknowledging my apology.
Tea. What meditation won't fix tea will definitely cure.
I struggle to take hold of the small cup with my clumsy left hand and he reaches over to guide it to my mouth.
"You will need antibiotics," he says, keeping hold of the cup until he's convinced I will take a sip on my own.
You mean the tea won't magically fix this? Heaven forbid.
I nod and force down a painful swallow of the bitter tea. "Clindamycin," I say around another sip. "There's a vial with the other medicine. It's labeled."
He turns to go look through my small collection of medical supplies and medications. It won't be enough, not anywhere near enough. He could cut away the rot, but even with a few doses the infection is sure to come back. Someone will have to get more medicine. I set the teacup down, unable to drink anymore. As it is the few sips are enough to set my stomach turning again. I pull my chair up to the computer and catch sight of his ear turn at the sound of the wheels.
"Do not touch that keyboard, Donatello," he says, his back still facing me.
Just do it. What's the worst that could happen?
My hand lingers over the keys and I flex my pointer finger towards the number pad. The fever must be making me bolder than I usually am…or stupider. Either way I've convinced myself that disobeying a direct order from my father is my best course of action at the moment. I only fall one keystroke before he whips around with narrowed eyes and flattened ears. I see it in slow motion although he's probably moving faster than I ever will. He darts forward and takes hold of the main power cord, ripping it from the outlet. The computer crackles and falls to black; lifeless. I make a noise in my throat that is equal parts shock and anger. In the end it almost sounds like someone letting the air out of a balloon with one squeeze.
"I said, do not touch that."
"M-my work," I stammer, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
"It is not important, Donatello," he says.
Nothing you value is important. Your work isn't important. You're not important.
The tone is one you use for disobedient children and it makes me see red. My head is throbbing and my skin is covered in a sheen of sweat that makes me tremble. I'm still not convinced I'm done throwing up and the pain in my hand is bordering on unbearable. I do not have the patience for that tone of voice.
"Not important?" I say, my words close to a growl. "Not important? Did you not listen to a single thing I said before? These people are going to unleash this stuff on the city! Who knows how many could be infected. We have to stop it and we'll have a better chance of doing that if I can break through their security clearance. How is that not important?!"
"It is not important if it means your destruction."
See what happens when you're selfish? You hurt people.
I don't respond. I can't. My whole body is trembling and there's a pinprick at the back of my eyes that threatens tears. Master Splinter turns and I reach out to take hold of his arm before he can walk away. I don't know why I do it. I didn't realize I have until my fingers close around the soft fur of his wrist. I should say something. I should explain myself or I should let go and pretend it never happened. I don't do any of those things. I sit and stare at my hand on his wrist and try to stop the rest of my body from shaking.
Why is it so cold in here?
"What is important is that you are well, my son," he says and I flinch when he rests a hand atop my head.
"Master Splinter?"
Leo's voice is cautious and quiet from across the room. Sensei removes his hand at the sound of it and I finally let go. I cling to the edge of the blankets instead and refuse to raise my eyes from the weeping, swollen mess that is my right hand. Leo isn't alone. There are two sets of footsteps moving towards us. It has to be Raphael with clomping feet like that.
"Oh, God," Raph says and his voice is more gruff than usual.
He kneels beside me and I can't avoid his gaze forever. He's worried and scared and I don't want him to be. So I lie.
"It's not as bad as it looks," I insist, my own voice sounding increasingly foreign to my ears. It's strained and low and nothing like I'm used to.
He doesn't look particularly convinced and I'm sure the putrid stench emanating from the wound isn't helping my case. He rests a hand on my knee and I wince. I don't want to. I can't help it. The slight added weight on the joint is enough to send jolts of pain shooting throughout my leg. His face falls and he takes back his hand, holding it up against his own chest.
"Sensei…"
"It will be all right, Raphael," Master Splinter says and he's beside me once more.
There's a slight pain in my arm, it's quick and far away and a pinprick compared to the agony of my hand. Master Splinter pulls the needle from my arm and carefully sets it aside. Instinctively I reach up to rub the place where the needle stuck.
"Help him to lie down," Master Splinter instructs.
I want to argue. I don't want to lie down. If I lie down I won't be able to get back up. Raph ducks under my left arm, throwing it over his shoulder before he hauls me to my feet. I'm no help this time around and Leo rushes over to keep the two of us from crumpling to the ground in a heap. They lower me onto the cot along the far wall and I remain sitting despite Raphael's attempts to push me down.
"I have…some surgical supplies," I explain through chattering teeth. "We'll need to, to clean the wound first…"
"I know, my son," Master Splinter says, stopping me short. "I know what needs to be done."
He doesn't like being told what to do.
Fear starts to dig its claws into my chest and it won't let go. It's not that I don't trust Master Splinter. He might know what needs to be done, but that doesn't mean he knows the proper way to do it. None of them do. I'm the one who fixes things. I can't just let them carve away at my hand without being sure they do it correctly…the way I would do it.
"You'll need more antibiotics," I continue, gripping the edge of the cot to keep sitting. "There's…there's a clinic on 5th. I've…I've found supplies there before."
The word you're looking for is stole. You stole supplies.
"I can get what we need, Sensei," Raph says and there's a hint of panic in his voice. "Write it down. I'll get anything you need."
"G-get me a, a pen," I say.
It's a fight to get the words past a powerful wave of nausea that starts from the bottom of my stomach and clenches my throat. I have to write everything down. I have to be thorough. They're not going to fix this with a couple stolen vials of medicine and an old scalpel. This isn't easy. Why is Master Splinter acting like this is easy? For once in his life why can't he just listen?
Ow.
There's another needle in my arm. It's gone before the pain registers and I reach up to rub the offended muscle. He didn't need to give me another shot so soon. What I really need is an IV drip. I'll have to write that down. Raph will never remember everything if I don't write it down. Why is my vision blurring?
Because that wasn't antibiotics, Genius.
"N-no," I murmur, gripping my arm tightly as if that might expel the sedative from my veins. "No."
Panic, red hot and unrelenting grips my mind and I think I attempt to stand, although it might have just been a violent sway. I don't want this. I'm not ready yet. They're not ready yet. I need to make a plan. I have to tell them how to fix this. How to fix me. I don't want to fall asleep and wake up to something worse.
He's probably going to cut the whole hand off.
"H-how…how could…you?" I ask in a jumble of words that might only make sense to my own ears. "I don't want…this isn't…please. Please, don't…you don't know what you're doing..."
Even talking is a struggle and when I feel Master Splinter's hands close around my arms I recoil and thrash with flailing limbs. How could he? This wasn't his decision to make! I'm not ready to sleep. We have to plan. I have to plan. I have to make sure they do things properly. I was fine. I could have…I could have helped. Why won't he let me help?
Help with what? What are you talking about?
"Rest, my son," Master Splinter says, easily subduing my vain attempts to strike out with a steady grip on my arms.
When did Master Splinter get here? Where am I again?
He's still talking, but I can't make out his words. They're low and deliberate and threaten to lull me off to sleep sooner. I think I hate him in that moment, although I can't be sure why. I can't be sure of anything really, because the darkness presses down on my eyes and the quiet descends with the swiftness of a falling blade.
