*We're getting ever so much closer to the true focus of Refuge, and the reason I wrote the story to begin with. Answers lie in North Carolina. Whether or not you'll like getting them, we'll have to wait and see.
Donatello swallowed back the emotion that was threatening to spill over. His wife hated crying in front of people, and the last thing he wanted to do was trigger a flood-tide on her part. The purple-masked turtle took a step backwards into the lower light in the corner of the hangar to separate himself from the others. It had been a silent ride from the harbor to the airport, and he'd dreaded arriving.
Leaving members of their family behind with the devastation was hard enough, and that was without considering the possibility of further damaging aftershocks. Don had tried reasoning with Tim to join them the night before, once Brandon was well enough to fly, but it hadn't done any good. Victoria's work with the Consulate was more vital than it had ever been, and Tim felt like he had his own commitments to uphold to the NYPD.
Donatello glanced a few feet across from where he was standing, and shook his head at the sight of April embracing Marcus. He had to look away after a fleeting glimpse.
I know why she's staying; somebody has to be there for Bran. That doesn't mean I have to like it, do I? Geesh, we should have just dragged Brandon with us.
"Donny. C'mere." Jenna's lilting voice summoned him out of thought, and he looked at the raven-haired woman mutely.
He ventured over to where the young woman was standing with Victoria.
"You didn't think you were getting away without saying goodbye to me properly, did you?" Victoria was teasing him, but he didn't feel like smiling.
"I'll keep on the seismic activity," he said solemnly. "When things settle down, and we're sure we have a place to go, we'll be back."
"I know you will, and we'll see you before then," Victoria assured him. "The rest of us will come down to visit you in a matter of weeks. In the meantime, thank you for looking after my baby."
Jenna leaned against his side, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "I will, Victoria. I'm sorry we have to go like this."
The woman shook her head. "I'll see you soon."
"Yes." He fought to achieve confidence in his tone.
Victoria embraced him fondly. "You're going to be fine," she said. "And we will too."
His legs felt like lead as the group shifted toward the Gulfstream. Jenna squeezed his hand reassuringly as she climbed in behind him, and he turned around to try and get an honest read on how she was feeling.
"Are you okay?" he asked tentatively.
"Yeah," she said softly. "I think I knew it was going to come to this. It's hard, but we'll all be together again."
Jenna averted her eyes as a couple of tears inevitably escaped, and Don's feeling of helplessness came crashing down once more.
"Donny, I'm all right," she insisted. "You can't blame a girl for getting a little emotional on a day like this. Don't you need to join Greg up front?"
"I want to check on things with Raph and Mike first. I know the docs will be back here and all, but this way I won't have to wonder what's going on without me."
"Go do that then, so we can take off before the sun comes up."
Donatello nodded, and headed down the aisle to get to Raphael first. By the heaviness of his brother's amber eyes, it was safe to assume that the first round of painkillers had already been administered.
"Hey, Raph," he greeted him.
"Hey." The red-masked turtle's voice was fuzzy. "Tell Heff to steer clear of the potholes."
"I doubt we'll run into many holes in the sky, bro. I'll see you later, okay? The docs are here, and they'll make sure you have whatever you need."
Raphael nodded, and buried his head in the pillow that was behind him.
Donatello continued another row back, where Michelangelo had settled in with Rebecca. He eyed the young woman before focusing a serious look on Mike. "You may not need the supplemental oxygen, but make sure it's within your reach. I mean it, Mike, you can't play around with this."
"How long is the flight, Don?" Mike asked.
"A couple of hours. It should still be dark when we get to Asheville. Try to get some sleep."
Rebecca nodded, and gave Donatello a pointed look that communicated more than words could have. I'm watching him.
He nodded in return and jerked his head around when he heard someone stumble. Donatello swiftly tracked over to where Marcus was guiding Luke into a seat. "Doc, are you all right?"
Luke began to nod, but Marcus gave him a sharp look.
"I've told him a dozen times already, Donny, he's not as strong as he thinks he is," Marcus replied. "He shouldn't even be out of the hospital yet."
"Triage was a far cry from a fine medical institution." Luke snorted, then shrugged. "But those people are doing the best they can with what they have to work with, so I shouldn't complain about it."
"You also shouldn't keep pushing yourself when you're that dizzy, Luke," Marc chided. "You have a serious concussion."
"I'm sitting now, aren't I?"
"And you'd better stay there, Doc," Don agreed. "If you know what's good for you anyway. You're not the only one who can be tough on people."
"Don!" Greg called down the aisle. "You comin'?"
The purple-masked turtle patted Luke's knee, and looked back at Marcus.
"I'll keep an eye on things," Marcus said automatically.
"Thanks." Donatello surveyed the cabin one last time, before trotting over to join Greg. "Okay. Let's get this show on the road."
He followed the man into the cockpit, and took his customary position in the co-pilot's chair. Just as he was fingering his headphones, Greg gave him a small smile.
"I'm going to make you handle taking off without me one of these days soon."
"Let's save that for another time, Heff. Did you finish all the pre-flight checks, or do you need some help?"
"We're ready," Greg answered, and slipped his own headphones on.
Once Donatello had his headphones in place, Greg continued.
"This flight should be no sweat. Less than 600 miles, and things look mostly clear weather-wise. I could make this jump in my sleep."
"Did anyone ever get through to Brandon?" Don asked without thinking.
Greg was suddenly fascinated by the screen in front of him, and Donatello studied his friend silently. The man was trying to sound normal, but the turtle could tell how conflicted he really felt.
Stupid. This was the wrong time to ask him that.
"Yeah, he got through to me," Greg finally said. "He borrowed a cell off a nurse, and April will be taking a charger over to the military installation to get his phone working again."
"How's he taking all of this?"
"He's not happy," Greg admitted. "But he knows we have to do it. I hate leaving him."
"Well...between April, Victoria, and Tim, he'll be taken care of for sure," Don said bleakly. "You don't need to stay with our shells forever either."
"You say that like it would be a bad thing. No, I'll only be staying long enough to make sure you get outfitted with the supplies you need, and however long it takes Marcus to do this surgery for Raph. I won't go anywhere until Marc is ready to head back to the city."
Donatello sighed. "This feels so weird, splitting off in different directions."
"Tell me about it, Don. Let's not focus on it any more than we have to, all right?"
"Are you suggesting avoidance?"
"It'll work for the short term. I have a date with Lola right now, and you've got to stop distracting me so much."
"Does Sayuri know about this special relationship that you and the plane share, Heff? I think she might be disturbed."
"A man has to be allowed to have a love affair with his favorite machine. You of all people ought to understand that."
Donatello surprised himself by chuckling. "I guess I'm guilty as charged."
He listened to the faint radio traffic and held his peace while Greg taxied the Gulfstream down a specified runway, preparing for takeoff. It wasn't until the plane was climbing to a cruising altitude that he spoke to the man again.
"I looked up the Blue Ridge Mountains last night, out of curiosity. It's going to take some time to get to Luke's place from Asheville, isn't it?"
"Hence the basis of its appeal, Don. Off the beaten path. That'll make it harder to transport equipment, but if we get most of the stuff at once, hopefully I can use one big truck."
"Greg?"
The sandy-haired man turned away from the crystal display to face him. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for everything. I know you say it's nothing, but it isn't. You're putting your life on hold for us."
"You guys are my life. If I didn't have to get back to Bran and my job, I'd stay with you indefinitely. Marc would too."
"I feel really bad about Marcus. I know he had to shuffle off a couple of patient procedures to make the time to do this."
"There are other orthopedic surgeons, Don."
"Yeah, but Marc is one of the best."
"And Raph needs him to help put his leg back together, doesn't he?"
"Yes," Donatello said quietly.
"Don't walk around acting guilty, Don. There're enough bad feelings going around without adding that one into the mix."
The turtle stifled a yawn, and reached for the thermos between their seats.
"Are you breaking into the goods already?" Greg teased. "You're such an addict."
"So I guess you won't be wanting any coffee?" Donatello mock-threatened.
"That one is all yours. I've learned better than to try and share with you."
Donatello took a grateful sip of still hot liquid gold, then capped the bottle to force himself to make it last. "So what happens when we land?"
"Luke rented a mini-bus."
"I hope you're joking."
"I am, actually."
Donatello gave him a withering look.
"He got us a couple of vans to haul everyone and our stuff up into the mountains. We can go straight up the Blue Ridge Parkway."
"I'm really anxious to see this place."
"You and me both, Don. It sounds pretty amazing from his description."
"This could get really emotional for him." Donatello mused. "He hasn't been back to North Carolina since his parents died. That house holds a lot of memories. I hope he doesn't end up regretting this move."
"Don, why would he regret it? You have to stop thinking things like that."
The purple-masked turtle shook his head. "It's not easy being the ones who always require special handling, Heff."
The man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you guys all suck. That's why we can't wait to get you out of our hair," he said sarcastically.
Donny was still formulating a reply when he noticed a call-button had been set off in the cabin. "You've got the plane, right?" he asked Greg. "You won't fall out of the sky if I leave the cockpit?"
"I don't know, Don. If we start crashing, you'll know why."
Donatello passed into the cabin, and the first thing he noticed was Marcus kneeling by Michelangelo's seat, where the orange-masked turtle was slumped forward slightly. He took a deep breath as he hurried over, and saw the lack of color in his brother's face. "What happened?"
"He passed out," Marc told him. "He's also got edema in both ankles. Have you seen this before, Donny?"
Donatello shook his head. "No, I haven't. Mike, is this the first time this has happened?"
Slowly, Mike shook his head. "No, last night was."
Marcus patted Mike's shoulder as he checked the oxi. "You're getting the extra oxygen, so you should be good for now. I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
At Marc's gesture, Donatello stepped away with him toward the front of the cabin.
"I was hoping the edema was related to the flying, Don, but that doesn't appear to be the case. We've got to get this biopsy done, and continue trying to find out what's wrong with him. I'm pretty sure this swelling is a sign that oxygen isn't circulating in his body properly."
Donatello nodded with a shaky feeling in the pit of his stomach. "We will. We'll get to the bottom of it, no matter what it takes."