*For 54 Chapters, you've wondered what on earth is wrong with Mikey. Today, that question is finally going to be answered.
Michelangelo sat motionless in front of a window in the back sitting room, waiting to catch sight of his brothers.
They're coming any time now. They have to be.
The increased pressure in his chest made it feel like a vise was tightening his lungs, but the pain hardly registered in his mind. He felt delicate fingers on his shoulder, and turned slightly to face Rebecca.
"Leo will find him," she said.
"I know," he replied.
If the women hadn't been around to stop him, the orange-masked turtle might have charged out into the storm after them. He didn't care if he could keep up with Leonardo, so long as he could follow him. Mike shifted in his chair, rising a couple of inches only to sit down again. He was so unsettled that he couldn't remain in one position for very long.
Michelangelo felt Becky's presence hovering, anxious. He knew she wanted to talk to him, but Rebecca was probably afraid to open her mouth and say the wrong thing. He wasn't worried over whether or not Leo would find Donny. The blue-masked turtle wouldn't quit until he did, and he agreed with Leonardo's assessment that Donatello wouldn't have strayed far.
But why would he go at all? Don's been known to avoid us for a while when something's really eating him, but the only time I've seen him run is when someone made him angry.
Mike bolted up in the hardback chair when he caught a flash of color among the dark evergreen branches, and he got to his feet. "I see them! They're coming."
Jenna leaped to her feet out of the corner of his eye, and Mike sensed that she was ready to pounce. Some of his nerves and concerned anger fled the moment he saw his purple-masked brother standing in one piece. The two turtles were still a short distance off when he realized how hunched Donatello's posture was, and that Leonardo was partially supporting him. Mike was still grateful to see his brother conscious and relieved that both of them were coming home safely, but questions nagged at his mind as they ascended the wrap-around porch.
Donatello tried to take a step without Leonardo's help when he saw Jenna in the line of fire, but quickly stumbled before the older turtle wrapped his arms around his shell again.
"Donny!" Jenna lingered within arm's reach of them, even as she tried not to block them from getting inside. "Leo, is he okay?"
"Doc needs him upstairs," Leo said swiftly. "I think he'll be okay, Jen, but Luke gets first crack at him, all right?"
"But..." the woman half-heartedly faltered as Leonardo steered the younger turtle toward the stairs.
"Jenna, please." Leonardo's voice changed entirely. "Just a few minutes, and I'll invite you up."
It was the pleading tone that probably stopped the young woman in her tracks. Jenna took a step back to make it easier for them to get through, but Mike wasn't so easily dissuaded. Without a word he followed Leonardo, who was now mostly carrying Don up the first set of stairs.
"Mike, could you give us a couple minutes before-"
"No," he said staunchly. "I wanna know what's going on as much as you do. I'm coming."
He was surprised when his brother made no further argument, and wondered if Leo's tremors had anything to do with it. The blue-masked turtle looked like he'd been soaked to the bone too, and was obviously freezing.
Probably in no mood to fight with me. I'm sure Jen only backed off 'cause she's never heard him sound like that
before.
Despite how cold he must have been, there was no falter or weakness in Leonardo's legs as he carried Donatello up the next flight of stairs to the third floor.
"Doc, we're here!" Leo called. "We both had a shot of the adrenal-heat, but Don's acting really strange. He hasn't said a word since I found him. I'm afraid he might be going into shock, not that I know anything about..." Leonardo didn't finish as he fixed on the man, who was staring blankly at the computer screen. "Doc?"
Luke looked over his shoulder, and Mike was startled to see all the color drained from the man's face. "Will you help him to the bed please, Leo? He's probably going to need warming fluids."
While Leonardo lifted the purple-masked turtle onto the mattress, Luke slowly finished assembling the IV line that had been prepared. The man was focused on the task, but he wasn't acting normal. Luke was moving as if he weighed a thousand pounds; every action seemed as if it took great effort to accomplish.
His older brother picked up on it too. "Doc, are you hurting?"
Mike saw the haunted look in Luke's eyes before the man deliberately averted them. "I need to finish hooking this up," he said quietly.
Luke traced Donatello's arm to find a good vein for the IV line, and the purple-masked turtle's gaze met him. Luke and Donny studied one another silently, as if each was searching for the same thing. Michelangelo saw the glimmer of understanding that passed between them, and the dam that had been erected over his brother's subconscious crumbled in a split second.
A wracking sob startled and frightened Michelangelo in its intensity, and all he wanted to do was go and comfort his brother. By all appearances, however, Donatello was beyond consoling. For his part Luke barely reacted; it seemed Donatello's tears didn't even surprise him. The man finished setting up the IV properly and looked at Leonardo.
"Leo, you need to get out of those wet things," he said emotionlessly.
The blue-masked turtle peered at the man closely as he stripped off the layers. "Doc...what the shell is going on?"
Luke didn't look at him, but rather at Michelangelo.
"Is this about me?" the orange-masked turtle asked.
"Mike, I..." Luke strove for words, but seemed unable to find them.
"It is," Mike said with certainty now. "Don found something, didn't he?"
Luke's gaze faltered, and Leonardo took another step forward.
"Guys, we need to know what's going on. Someone talk to us," Leo insisted.
With Donatello already broken down, both turtles focused on a wilting Luke. Michelangelo had a momentary twinge of sympathy for the man, before he remembered that he needed to get him talking.
"Doc, don't be like this. Whatever it is, you need to tell us. Tell me. It's my body, isn't it? I deserve to know what's happening to it."
A flicker of real emotion crossed Luke's blue eyes and he swallowed. "Guys...sit down."
Leonardo instantly moved to a chair, but Mike felt like he couldn't move.
"Is it that bad, Doc? I guess it would have to be for both of you to react this way. I'm a big turtle. Just tell me. It's been going on for months, it's getting worse, and I'm ready for answers."
"Mike, I really need you to sit down," Luke said firmly.
The orange-masked turtle dropped into a chair to Leonardo's right, but shrugged away from his brother's hand that was searching for his shoulder. "Okay, we're sitting, Doc. Tell us."
Luke hesitated a moment longer, casting another look over his shoulder at the desktop computer. "The biopsy tells a pretty detailed story, Mike," he started carefully. "The sample revealed tissue damage, with scarring that's very consistent with...It's virtually identical to a condition that we've seen before."
Mike could only think of one instance where so much attention had been on someone's lungs, and it gave him a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Sensei," he said flatly.
"There are still tests we need to perform," Luke said. "We don't know-"
"Don seems like he knows something, Doc, and I deserve to know too. Do you think I'm dying?" The question came up faster than he'd intended it too, and it was clear that his frankness startled Luke and Leonardo.
"It's too soon to say that," Luke said bleakly.
Michelangelo held his gaze, discerning what Luke didn't want to say. Anger flooded his senses at that moment, and he swore out loud. "Just tell me the truth, Doc!"
"The preliminary results match your Sensei's case. We need to get a deeper look at your lungs so that we can see the full extent of the damaged tissue."
Mike looked down at the floor, unable to withstand the pain in Luke's voice that he couldn't hide anymore.
"But...you said...you thought the conditions weren't similar." Leonardo sounded uncertain, unwilling to believe it. "Weeks ago, we talked about this, remember? You said that Mike's sickness presented differently."
"Initially, yes, it has. Mike had a lot more ups and downs than your Sensei did. I think it's possible his body has been trying to compensate for the loss of tissue, to make up for the decrease in oxygen. It could be his fight has held out longer before getting worse because of his age. All of our lungs naturally lose function as we get older, which would have put your Sensei at a disadvantage. The difference in your mutations could have played a role too. Whatever the case, the condition is acute now, and that means there's no turning back."
Michelangelo felt like all the warmth inside his body had fled, that the chill had seeped in so far he might never be able to feel again. "So...I have what Sensei had. How long does that give me, Doc? Weeks, months? What am I looking at?"
His immediate acceptance seemed to anger Leonardo.
"Now hold on! They're just getting started, Mike. This can't possibly be your death sentence. You learned some things from Sensei's battle, didn't you? Isn't there any experience from treating him that gives you hope for helping Mike?" Leo asked.
"We haven't even begun to fight," Luke replied more forcefully than he'd been able to yet.
"Explain it to me, Doc," Mike requested. "The cells are attacking my lung tissue, right?"
"Some of them are," Luke corrected. "Too many. What we found in your Sensei's case was a genetic defect in his stem cells, which caused them to start mutating spontaneously. We don't know why the mutated stem cells attack the alveoli, but once the surface area of the air sac walls has been destroyed, it hinders the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide that we all experience when we breathe. As in your Sensei's case, it also eventually results in the loss of elasticity in the lungs, which makes the airways more likely to collapse."
"How long can these cells keep attacking the air sacs before they're gonna give out completely?" Mike couldn't explain the calm numbness or the lack of an emotional response, but he meant to find out as much as he could.
"We don't know. We don't know how advanced your condition is. We'll have to do another biopsy with a better camera to find out how much of the surface area has been affected," Luke said officially, regaining some of his lost composure. The man reached for Donatello's arm. "Do you hear me, Donny? It's not over."
"Doc, have you even considered the implications that this finding has for all of us?" The purple-masked turtle surprised Michelangelo by speaking.
Luke nodded gravely. "I have, Don. But your Sensei made us quit. He didn't give us the chance to really fight it. Mike's going to be different."
"You haven't realized what this means then."
"I, uh...I don't think I'm following you, Donny. What are you trying to say?"
"Back when we first realized that the stem cells in Sensei's lungs were going awry, we tested everyone. Do you recall that?" Donatello used the rail to pull himself upright. "This is about Mike, but it's also about the rest of us, even Olivia probably. The genetic defect we discovered in Sensei's cells, we all have it. That means that every single one of us has the potential to develop this disorder, within which the lung stem cells are destroying the alveoli. It happened to Sensei. It's happening to Mike-"
"And it could happen to the rest of us just as easily. Is that what you're saying?" Leo interrupted.
"Yes. It doesn't appear to be a random fluctuation in stem cells. This is a very specific morphogenesis that all of us experienced because of the mutation. And because it's genetic, it was probably passed on to Olivia too." Donatello rested his head in his hands. "Over 99% of mutations are harmful. Why did I believe it was possible to beat those odds?"