Here's chapter two for ya. Sorry it took so long, I was so paranoid about making it right that I rewrote it several different times. I hope this is good enough for you, my lovelys.
Also, I don't know if I said it before, but this takes places in the 2k3 universe for the most part. It probably doesn't matter much, but there are a couple key points that are found only in that verse that are in this story.
And finally, many thanks to Dondena for beta reading this. You're awesome!
The feeling of Donatello breathing against Raphael's shell was uncomfortable. It wasn't the fact he had to carry his brother; with lives like theirs, he had to carry one of them home almost once a month. No, it was the way his chest jutted out every time he took in a breath, as if it were painful to do something so simple, yet essential to live. It was the sound of air wheezing out of his mouth next to his ear that was way too loud to be normal.
Of course he's in pain, stupid, Raphael cursed himself. He got hit in the chest two times.
He was sure his own shell was splattered with blood as well; it was already starting to crust on his shoulder where Donatello had managed to get some there, leaving him itchy.
"So Leo, what's the big plan now?" He couldn't help but bring up. Of course he knew that it wasn't helping any, but the whole situation was just pissing him off so much he had to do something. "It's a half mile walk home. With Don, its gonna take half n' hour at least."
Leonardo suddenly broke his stare from the tunnel at the sound of his voice. "We have no other choice. We'll have to walk back. Donnie took out the hidden Slider he kept nearby here after rats chewed the wires."
Just great... This night was really shaping up to be a shitty one. The eldest looked just as frayed as he felt. The recent battle, Donatello's injuries, and having to come up with a plan to deal with it all- and fast- was starting to eat at all of them. Even Michelangelo, who for once decided to stay quiet. He couldn't help but stare at his immediate older brother, visibly shaken.
They could've called their father to bring up the Sewer Slider, but by the time he figured out how to start the damn thing, they could've done laps around the whole sewer network. If he managed to actually answer the shell cell without any problems, that is. Casey and April were unfortunately out of the question as well, and Raphael didn't want to get Angel involved with their problems, given how young she was.
"Guess we better start walkin' then," he grumbled. All he wanted to do was get home, make sure Donatello was safe, and sleep for about a week. "Here, get Donnie off my back. Ita be easier for him if we both carry him."
Reaching forward, Leonardo gently pulled Donatello's arms from around Raphael's neck, easing his upper body into his own. The injured turtle let out a tiny moan, prompting Michelangelo to step forward and rub a hand up and down his arm. Raphael turned around so he could more easily carry his legs.
"Hey Donnie, ya still with us, bro?" Michelangelo, the only one not carrying him, hovered nearby.
"Huh? Uh... y-yeah... 'M here," he mumbled. "Hurts though." Shakily, he raised a hand to his chest, wincing when his fingers brushed against one of the bandages. Pulling the hand away, the youngest settled both of his arms lower on his abdomen, far away from his injuries. "Think... think I hit some'thn."
The pain and fear on his eyes was so evident, Leonardo was almost shocked to see it so clearly expressed. Usually the genius' emotions and thoughts were so high level and quick to process that none of them could even understand what was going on in his head.
"Don, we need you to stay awake as long as possible. Think you can do that for us, bud?" Leonardo was leaning over, trying to get Donatello to make eye contact with him. Instead, his head lolled back against his eldest brother's plastron, looking at the brick wall of the tunnel with unfocused eyes.
"Yeah... 'kay."
Donatello's inability to form a complete sentence was troubling. Usually, he was so sure about what he was talking about, especially if it had anything to do with technology. Raphael silently swore to himself never to tune his brother out when he talked about something 'geeky' when he got better.
"Let's go. We've been standing around here too long, we have to get back," Leonardo ordered. And so they began the long trek back home.
He tried not to think about the blood dripping into the small stream beneath them, turning the water reddish-pink. Already, the bandanas and wrist bands were soaked, but they didn't have time to stop and add more. For now, they would just have to hope that it was enough and would last them until actual bandages could be used.
"Don didn't bring his bag with him this time," Raphael stated.
That disgusting thing that he carried around so much had begun to smell; he had been secretly glad that Leonardo told him he couldn't take it with him on patrol. Until now, that is. Donatello was always so insistent to carry around everything small enough to fit in it, including a plethora of first aid supplies for any potential injury, which they desperately needed.
"Afraid not. I... I wanted Don to be focused instead of looking for things to put in it. I didn't think this would happen." Leonardo shook his head. His eyes clouded over with even more guilt.
Just anotha thing to add to Leo's long list of fails he keeps. Surprised he doesn't have them written down somewhere, Raph thought to himself.
"Can it Leo, you couldn't of known this was gonna happen. Hell, even Master Splinter said nothing will probably happen tonight. So shaddup, 'cause frankly I'm tired of your self pity shit." Raph said.
"Stop... fightin'," a voice sounded from below, and Raphael looked down to see Donatello attempting a glare. Immediately, it changed to a grimace when he started coughing, causing blood to bubble out of the corner of his mouth. Not good, not good at all. Raphael knew enough from the basic first aid training April and Splinter had given them, that coughing up blood meant internal bleeding, which always meant something serious.
Pulling off one of his wristbands, Michelangelo wiped away the blood running down his face. Donatello let out a few gasping, noisy breaths, before returning to the quickened pace that had become so disturbingly normal to them ever since he first got hurt.
"Hey, just relax, okay, bro?" Leonardo soothed in a soft voice. Despite how much of a dick the eldest could be sometimes, especially when it came to training, Raphael knew he could be a damn good older brother. "Save your strength. We'll be home soon before you know it. Think you can wait a bit longer until then?"
Donatello nodded once, swallowing thickly, his face slick with sweat from the effort of merely coughing. Raphael wished to stop and see how his brother was holding up, but he knew they couldn't afford to lose any more time.
At least they were far enough through the sewer that they couldn't see where they had come down from anymore. Raphael figured they had about twenty minutes to go, but what did he know. He was such a terrible judge of time; an unfortunate trait he seemed to share with his younger brothers. The lair could be two hours away with his luck. And so he continued to press forward, the injured brother in his arms motivation to keep him going. He pushed down the feelings of fear and dread that were quickly rising.
"Mikey, I need you to do something," Leonardo ordered, breaking the silence.
Michelangelo, who had stayed relatively quiet and providing physical comforts to Donatello that the older two couldn't, suddenly perked up. He looked so eager, wanting to do anything other than watch their brother be in so much pain. "I need you to run ahead and tell Master Splinter what happened. Tell him Don's hurt, and to get everything we need to help him. Can you do that?"
"Of course, no prob." When Leonardo nodded to him to go, Michelangelo took off faster than Raphael had probably ever seen him.
He should've been so happy, that Leonardo, of all people, gave him such an important job to do. Instead, all Michelangelo could focus on was wanting to stay behind with his older brothers. Part of him was almost glad to get away from them, to not have to see Donatello suffer so much. But guilt, and the instinctual sense of being a brother quickly pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came, focusing on instead getting help.
Master Splinter would know what to do. Ever since they were babies, their father patched up every scrape they got while training or roughhousing. Granted, they didn't get seriously injured very often, the last time being Leonardo when he ran into the Foot by himself, but they pulled through in the end. Splinter and his brothers always knew what to do. They would help Donatello.
Michelangelo was running so fast he almost missed the tunnel that led to the lair. This was good, he was almost home, almost to Splinter! Never before had he been so grateful of his father's insistence on strict training. Without it, he wouldn't have been able to sprint that fast for ten minutes, no stopping.
"Master Splinter! Master Splinter!" He started yelling as soon as the hidden door to the lair was in sight. He knew for a fact the rat would still be up, no doubt waiting for the return of his sons. "Master Splinter!"
Fumbling with the pipes on the door, it took several tries for Michelangelo to get the right combination for them to open. The fifth time he finally got it, bursting through the door and into his home.
Splinter, sitting on the couch watching what looked like the news, jumped at the sound of the door being slammed open. "Master Splinter! Sensei, where are you?!"
"Michelangelo, what is wrong?" His eyes fell to the blood splattered across his arms and plastron. The rat was on his feet in a flash, scanning over his son's body for any sign of injury "My son, what happened tonight? Where are your brothers, are they alright? Are you?"
"It's not me, it's Donnie!" The turtle cried. So much was swimming around in his head, it was hard to form a sentence. "He's hurt, we... Topside, we ran into Purple Dragons and... Raph n' Leo told me... Don needs help!"
Splinter placed his hands on the youngest turtle's shoulders, trying to stop his hyperventilation. "Calm down, Michelangelo. Please, tell me what happened."
And so he explained everything from the past hour: Heading to 49thStreet for the night's patrol, running into 'a bajillion' Purple Dragons, the horrible fight, Donatello getting stabbed then shot, ending with Leonardo sending him ahead to warn their father. Said rat listened intently to his son as he told his story. Michelangelo was almost in tears at the end; he hated watching his brothers suffer even a little bit, and being separated from them when they were.
"He was shot? Do you know if the bullet is still inside?" Splinter asked. Was it? Michelangelo hadn't been paying attention at the time. He was too busy focusing on the fact that one of them had a gun to notice him actually using it.
"I... I dunno, I didn't check."
"I see. If that is the case, they we must remove the bullet somehow. I can only hope it did not damage anything important. But Michelangelo... Are Donatello's injuries serious?" His father questioned.
Looking away, the turtle took in a few deep breath to calm himself. While he didn't know much about first aid, Michelangelo knew enough to know that it was bad. He nodded once, unable to physically say it aloud. Splinter's ears lowered against his head.
Turning to the right, the rat's gaze fell onto Donatello's lab. It was an "organized chaos" as the genius liked to call it, with papers scattered everywhere, open and heavily marked books on chairs stolen from the kitchen for extra surface area, and appliances all at different stages of repair. "If that is the case, then we must work fast. Bring me the spare pillows, blankets, and first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet."
Michelangelo hurried across the lair to the bathroom to do as his father asked. Anything except stand around and think about how Donatello was doing right now. He threw open the door to the wooden cabinet built into the wall, pulling down every blanket and pillow that could fit into his arms. A few of their rattier towels made it to the pile as well in case they needed some of them. The first aid kit, easily a couple pounds because of Leonardo and Donatello's insistence of keeping a stocked supply, rested on top of the pile in his arms.
When he got back, he found Donatello's low table dragged out from inside his lab, belongings pushed off and probably somewhere still inside the sub car. A chair was next to it, various tools from his immediate older brother's toolbox laid out on the seat. Michelangelo had seen Donatello, and sometimes Raphael use them countless times, but he couldn't remember the names of them.
"I practice Ninjitsu, not medicine. Bullet removal is something I do not know how to do. I am afraid we will have to make do with what we can," Splinter explained when he saw his son eyeing the tools set out. The rat was currently in the middle of disinfecting one of them with the rubbing alcohol Donatello kept in his lab. "Please, put everything on the floor for now." The pile of supplies reached up passed his knees. "Perhaps if Mr. Jones or Miss O'Neil were here, they would be able to assist us."
"I can try calling them if you want," Michelangelo offered.
Splinter gave a small, crooked smile. "If you wish, although I do not know if they would be able to help. They are in another state, if I recall."
"Well still, they might be able to tell us what to do," the turtle insisted. "April had to get her appendix thingy taken out a couple years ago, she might know how to take a bullet out." Without waiting for an answer, Michelangelo pulled his shell-cell out from his belt and speed-dialed April's number.
Master Splinter watched his son for a second, before returning to sterilizing the tools waiting on the chair. His ears twitched at the noise of the phone snapping shut. "Did she not answer?"
"Nah, went straight to voice mail." The orange-clad turtle paused, watching his father work, before asking, "Uh, need some help with that, Sensei?"
"I am almost finished with this, but if you could, put the pillows and blankets on the table," Splinter suggested, gesturing to the couple foot high pile next to Michelangelo. "If Donatello is as injured as you say, then I do not want to risk moving him upstairs to Leonardo's room."
The eldest brother's room was always the go-to when one of them was hurt or sick. His was the only one that had an actual bed at ground level. "The couch is impractical, so we will have to make a bed instead."
Michelangelo pulled several of the thicker blankets out, laying them on top of the table. A wooden surface was too hard to lay on, the youngest surmised, and Donatello deserved to be as comfortable as possible. Well, as comfortable as one could be while injured, anyway. The rest of the blankets would be used to keep his brother warm; it was still early April and chilly in New York City, especially in the sewers.
Finally, the pillows were placed at the end, fluffed up and waiting to be used.
"Master Splinter, does this look okay?" Mikey asked.
His father only glanced up at Michelangelo's handiwork, too busy sorting through the first aid kit. "Thank you, Michelangelo. Could you help me sort through this, please?"
Their first aid kit was like a miniature drug store in a box. Inside it were bandages, gauze, syringes, Tylenol, hydrogen peroxide, scissors, and equipment to set up an IV (no one trusted Michelangelo to handle that). There were even a couple bottles of morphine Donatello found at a junkyard nearby a hospital that had accidentally been thrown out, but they were reserved for emergencies. Together, they pulled out the things they were sure they would need and set them on the chair, ready to be used.
Splinter opened his mouth to say something, before his ears suddenly perked up and turned his head towards the door Michelangelo had forgotten to close. "I hear your brothers. They are close."
Just in time...
By the time the two eldest brothers made it home, Donatello had fallen unconscious. While Raphael voiced his worry about it, Leonardo couldn't help but feel glad. His brother was in pain, and a lot of it, and it hurt him to have to watch. He had also coughed up blood three mores times after Michelangelo left, each occurrence more strenuous and bloody.
That just made Leonardo worry more; if Donatello wasn't awake to cough it up, then the blood would just pool in his lungs and cause more problems.
Leonardo didn't even glance up from his brother's bloody face to see what was going on in the lair. "Master Splinter! Don, he's hurt!"
"Michelangelo already explained everything," Splinter reassured.
Finally, the eldest looked up, seeing everything already set up. Several of Donatello's things from the lab were cast aside in the haste, and Leonardo hoped his little brother wouldn't be too upset that his stuff was messed with.
His gaze fell to the makeshift bed in front of Donatello's lab. If their father went to all that trouble of making one, then he had to be worried. He nodded to Raphael to move their brother onto the table, which was thankfully only a couple inches higher than his leg. They wouldn't have to lift him and potentially aggravate his injuries.
"I'm sorry, Sensei, I wasn't watching Don and some-"
"Now is not the time, Leonardo," his father cut in. "You may explain to me later. Right now, Donatello needs help."
"Of course." He maneuvered Donatello onto the table, bunching up the blankets that lay underneath him around his sides to keep him warm. Shortly before falling unconscious, the second youngest had begun to shiver, and had only gotten worse since then. Raphael reached for one of the extra blankets on the floor and draped it across his legs, which were starting to feel cold.
For a few moments. Leonardo stood next to Donatello, wiping away the thin sheet of sweat that was forming on his face and neck with one of the towels. He wondered why he could be sweating and cold at the same time, but figured that was probably due to the blood loss.
Behind him, Splinter and Raphael spoke in low voices, most likely about what had happened or what to do to help Donatello. Raphael seemed to be more together than Leonardo felt, which was probably why their father was talking to his brother instead of him. Grabbing one of the ripped and stained towels, he pressed them against his brother's wounds, watching the faded beige slowly turn red.
"You guys got here pretty fast," Michelangelo commented. He stood on the other side of the table, unable to take his hands off of his immediate older brother. "I thought you would be another five or ten minutes."
"We had to rush, we... Don just kept getting worse, and Raph insisted we hurry up. And then once he fainted, we figured he couldn't feel as much pain and we practically ran home. Rather have him alive than dead because we took too long getting home."
Behind him, Splinter's news program continued to play, forgotten in the flurry of activity to save Donatello. "And in other news. Early today, thirty-two year old Amelia Thompson was found dead in her apartment. It was estimated she died around noon, while her husband and three children were out of the home. Police are suspecting monoxide poisoning, and are currently looking for a possible suspect in the case."
And there's chapter. I would like to know your thoughts about how in character you think they are. I used a couple things they say in the new toon that they say in here (for example, Leo actually does call Don 'bud'), but I want to know what you all think!