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Chapter 19
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Back at the lair, Donatello felt another sweeping sensation of relief as he returned home and could not again contain his tears as he gently embraced his father. Their reunion would have to be short-lived, however, as the focus remained on Michelangelo.
Overseeing their progress, Don now took them step by step through what needed to be done. Mike was laid out in the makeshift infirmary just off of Donatello's lab. Don helped them start an I.V. and rechecked the wound. Watching as April cleaned it out thoroughly, he had her apply antibiotic gel to the area and rebandage it. She followed by checking all of Mike's vital signs, keeping a record of them close by. He selected an injectable antibiotic from the medicine stash, giving her careful instructions on the dosage.
Donatello used his good hand to carefully inspect Mike's busted one; sure enough, two of the fingers were broken there. Though she felt squeamish about it, April kept it to herself as she snapped each one back into place, setting a splint on each. That done, she helped Don go over Mike's entire body one last time, checking each bone and joint for additional fractures. It was all they could do without the benefit of Michelangelo being aware enough to vocalize his own injuries.
When Mike was settled, Master Splinter took a seat up next to him for the first watch. Donatello then turned his attention to Leonardo. Don's painkillers were kicking in, but they were doing little to mask the pain. He was however, able to complete his thoughts a little better.
"Alright, he should be… be stable for a while. Leo… you're next." Donatello was still breathing heavy between statements, as if it still took great effort to speak.
"No way, Donatello. You're done here. We can handle this from here." Leonardo maintained his stoicism. He knew that under any normal circumstances, his wound would've been considered quite serious and that no one other than Donatello would be qualified to take care of it.
"…Not up for debate." Before further protest could be launched, Donatello began giving April and Raphael their orders.
With Donatello again looking on as surveyor, April and Raphael prepared to remove the steel shuriken from Leonardo's leg. Lying face down on an old medical table, the extent of Leonardo's injury became apparent. His calf was swollen almost double in size and the wound was an angry red around the invading object.
Raphael gripped the shuriken and twisted it back and forth slightly, pulling it very slowly outwards, while April kept pressure down around the area. Leo's entire body went rigid and he gripped the table, grunting through clenched teeth. At last, the shuriken was out and the wound bled freely, …but not 'punctured-major-artery' bleeding, Donatello noted with a sigh of satisfaction.
April cleaned the wound and packed it with sterile gauze, all under Donatello's explicit instruction. When Leo was finished, Don repeated which antibiotics he was to take and at what intervals.
"Donnie, please." The sadness in Leo's voice was heavy, "That's enough. Tell us what to do for you, now."
He sighed. "All right. This one's… just going to be… April and I, I think. Help me into… the other bed… and I'll explain."
Still, before he'd let them begin treating him, Donatello insisted on going over Michelangelo's care one last time. He sent for Master Splinter and recanted his previous instructions again for the benefit of his sensei and again for April, whose nimble fingers would most likely be doing more of the intricate work.
Finally satisfied that things were under control, Donatello asked that they leave him and April alone.
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April pushed the needle into Donatello's good arm, starting the I.V. drip. She recorded his vitals, as he instructed. When she finished, she sat nervously next to him. There was something weird in the air and she waited expectantly for him to speak.
"April." He sounded very calm, a tone that only increased her nervousness. He went on. "April, my shoulder… became infected while I was there." He paused, lowering his voice. "It's gangrenous, now." The word fell like a death sentence.
She swallowed. "So… what do we do?"
"We – I mean you – will have to cut away the dead flesh." He looked at her gravely. "April."
Try as she might, her traitor eyes were beginning to wet despite her best efforts. "Ye-yes, Donatello."
He looked at her, so beautiful and concerned for him. There was never a harder sentence to speak. "April, the chances of me surviving this are slim."
Her eyes ruptured tears. "Oh… oh, Donnie…" She lovingly stroked the side of his head.
"You mustn't feel responsible," he went on, "in case things don't go well."
Somehow, that statement was even worse than the last. She thought then about how Raphael sometimes called Don the 'mother hen'… it was so true. Even now, believing that his life was coming to an end, Donatello was still looking out for her.
She injected his arm with the appropriate amount of morphine. Drying her tears, she put her ninja face on. There was no room for mistakes here.
"Don," she spoke gently, "I'm just going to leave for a second and let the guys know what's going on."
"April…" He grasped her arm, looking at her pleadingly. "Don't tell them everything."
She gave a quick nod in understanding, trying vainly to give him a smile.
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Raphael and Leonardo were sitting in the living room, a news program playing on the television that neither was watching. Don had advised Leonardo to go to bed (and keep his leg elevated), but Leo was too restless to comply. His leg was throbbing, but the bleeding had trickled to a stop.
Michelangelo was relatively safe for now, sleeping with Master Splinter nearby. They had done all they could for him at the moment, so there was nothing left to do but wait and hope that his condition would improve. Their main focus had now shifted to Donatello, who, all things considered, had pulled a worrisome move by only allowing April in with him for the time being. Raphael was restless. What the hell're they talkin' about in there, anyways, he thought.
Trying not to think about it, Raphael cast a sideways look at the turtle in blue. Leonardo believed that he was maintaining himself perfectly. Raphael had been his brother too long though; it was obvious to him that the fearless leader was in a state of distress.
"Leo… uh… can I getcha' anythin'?"
"I'm fine." Crap. Well, so much for my machismo. The pain from his injury only made him feel incredible guilt. How can I even complain next to what they've been through?
"Raph…" He started.
"Yeah, Leo."
"You think… uh…" he stumbled, looking for the right words, "…you think they're going to… be okay?" He choked at the last bit, but managed to keep it together. He couldn't help but think again how Donatello had sounded in the van. They had been so worried about Mike initially… Don didn't look great, but the fact that he was awake and talking to them had made it seem like he was going to be alright. Now Leonardo wasn't so sure.
Raphael looked at his brother. They'd been through so much together, the weight of the entire situation was falling on him now. He instantly felt terrible for every thing he'd ever done to Leonardo.
"Leo…"
Just then, April entered the room. She gave them a quick rundown of Donatello's condition, keeping true to his (final? No – she pushed the thought out) request that she not tell them how grim the situation was.
After ensuring that she didn't need their help, they settled back down uneasily, waiting for her to return with more news. Although she'd tried to sound hopeful, both brothers couldn't help but notice the redness of her eyes – it was obvious she'd been crying.
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"There is no map," he'd said, "you just have to shoot everywhere." April remembered Donatello's words as though nothing else existed in her memory. "Think of the flesh as a sponge, soaking up the injection."
She painstakingly swept the wound, injecting the local anesthesia with care. Still awake, but mostly unaware, Donatello was making small sounds and grunts, his head turned in the opposite direction. Witnessing the actual procedure could likely send him into shock, so he attempted to shut down as best he could. Though they were without the benefit of a hospital and general anesthesia, the local mixed with morphine was a pretty decent substitute.
"April… I won't be myself after the morphine takes effect, you can't trust anything I say from that point on…"
April O'Neal, who had been many things in her life – once a scientist, once a reporter, and most recently, a ninja-in-training – now fancied herself a doctor. If only she could have traded places with anyone else in the world.
Remembering that she was (now) a ninja, she listened to Master Splinter's lessons in her head, preparing herself. Steeling her mind, she chose a scalpel and set to work cutting the decaying flesh from her most dear friend, his life entirely in her hands.
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"…Both the position and the momentum cannot simultaneously be known with infinite precision at the same time… supersymmetry between forces and matter, with both open and closed strings… no tachyon… group symmetry is SO(32)…"
It was mostly rambling scientific nonsense, but not always. There were the times when he believed himself conversing with his family, acting accordingly to each situation as if it were a normal day… and that was bad to watch. But what was worse was the memories they could never know, the ones that came from that evil place.
Fever had set in a second time for Donatello. A combination of that and the morphine took away whatever lucidity he might have started with. When he wasn't mumbling nonsense or raving at nightmares, he would sleep. April diligently cleaned the wound every day, and although there were no visible signs of infection brewing there, the fever was solid indication that there was one. Though he was still more animated than his comatose brother, Donatello's situation was much more frightening.
Donatello's body would sometimes seize and he would begin yelling, screaming at his captors to stop, please just stop hurting him, or worse, to stop hurting Michelangelo. Each time one of these episodes occurred, everyone in the lair ran to his side, trying to calm him. It got so bad at one point that they considered keeping him in restraints for his own safety, but Leonardo and Raphael both vetoed that decision right away. In addition to remembering the shackles they'd seen Mike in, the circular bruising around the ankles and wrists of both brothers was enough to tell them that it might be too much for Don to handle.
April felt exhausted, but it did not deter her efforts. She and Casey both had been staying over every night for a week, leaving only briefly here and there for necessities. Mostly, it was Casey who went out, as April was now taking Donatello's place as caregiver. When she wasn't tending to her charges, she was either on the internet or pouring through Don's collection of medical journals, trying to find any information she could to help their situation. She'd managed to keep Donatello's fever down to a non-lethal level through medication, but even after several days it refused to break. Michelangelo, on the other hand, was improving… well, his wounds were looking better. He still hadn't woken up however, and there was no guarantee that he ever would.
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