Raphael stared at the baby turtle in his arms, unconsciously clutching Olivia tighter than normal. She wasn't known for being much of a cuddler except when she was tired, but right now Liv's solemn gaze was just taking him in. The little turtle wasn't even resisting being held for that long period. He brushed his hand across her cheek, momentarily distracted by how soft her skin felt under his fingers. He wanted to hold on to her forever, like he would be able to somehow protect Olivia from the insidious enemy that had invaded their family.
The freezing rain had changed into snow, and there was a light coating on the ground outside. Raphael didn't know how much time had passed since Luke had come to talk to him. It didn't seem to matter. Nothing was registering except for the desperate clawing in his chest to protect his little brother, and to keep his baby safe. Instinctively he knew that the fight was out of his hands, and the impotent feeling made him want to break down or shake his fist at the invisible assailant that would dare threaten his loved ones.
Normally I'd just beat the living daylights out of someone for that, but what am I supposed to do now? Sensei surrendered to this thing - he said it was his time. Am I supposed to just accept that for the rest of us too? This can't be the end. Not for Mikey...not for us.
A soft whimper called him back to the sitting room, and he looked down at Olivia. The baby was starting to become a little restless in his grasp. Raphael glanced at his watch. She's probably getting hungry. I don't even know when Liv ate last.
The red-masked turtle kept one arm around Olivia and reached for his phone with the other. He released a shaky breath, trying to expel the threatening emotion before making the call. Raphael wasn't entirely successful; his voice still shook as he said Karina's name.
"Could you c'mere?" he asked. "I think Liv is ready to eat."
"I'll be right there," she replied.
The young woman had allowed him the space she knew he wanted, even though Raphael was certain Karina hadn't wanted to leave. She returned as silent as a shadow, slipping into the room with an air of disquiet. Olivia broke into a small tirade of gibberish when she saw her mother, but Karina couldn't bring herself to smile. The woman drew the baby out of Raphael's arms, and cradled her close to her chest.
"Raph, I'll be right back, okay?"
"Just take care of Liv," he said hoarsely.
Her light green eyes bored into him, and Karina shook her head. "I'll be right back," she repeated insistently.
He watched her go back down the hall, and retreated into the terrified questioning that had been assaulting his mind. Raphael wanted to see Mike; he just didn't think he could handle a meeting without breaking down.
Shell, Don's already lost it enough for all of us. I can't fall apart on Mikey too.
The red-masked turtle sniffed as discouragement pounded against his iron will, refusing to give him a minute's reprieve. The speed with which he heard Karina returning indicated that the woman had allowed someone else to take charge of the baby, so she could sit with him. Karina took a seat to the left of his recliner, and didn't speak right away, letting the unnatural silence continue. Raphael was grateful that she hadn't asked if he was okay, but when he noticed the quiet tears of her cheeks, he had to say something.
"Kari..." he started, but he didn't know what to tell her. I should have some clue. I've been here before, there ought to be something I can tell her, he thought helplessly.
"Raph, don't," she said quickly. "You don't have to."
Raphael hated being trapped in that chair, incapable of going to her, unable to make her feel any assurance about the situation that was unfolding in front of them. He wanted to tell her that it wouldn't be the same as it had been with his Sensei, that Mike wasn't going to die, their daughter wasn't going to be threatened, and he wasn't in danger of developing the same complication.
The young woman seemed to sense his inner turmoil, and she reached out to grasp his wrist. The physical contact from her was the only thing it took to overwhelm him. Tears came rapidly to the surface, and he didn't have the power to force them back down. He wanted to turn away from her in that moment, to maintain some illusion that he could be strong for her, even though everything was falling apart at the seams. Raphael couldn't bring himself to reject her eye contact or push Karina away, just so she wouldn't realize his emotions were rising as strongly as hers.
"Raph, this doesn't make any sense to me," she wavered. "Why are you guys separating at a time like this, when you need each other so much more?"
"Don ain't ready to be with anyone yet. You saw him, Kari. I can't look at Mike without thinking I'm gonna lose it, and Leo...I can't stand the fear in his eyes. He's trying as hard as anybody could, but he can't do this either. Leo can't pretend like everything's gonna be okay, because we know better than that. We've already seen what this stupid mutation does, and we know there's no answer to fix it."
"They weren't given the chance," Karina corrected. "Luke told me about Splinter rejecting Donatello's further research on the matter. He said the minute stem cells came up, Splinter put a stop to all the lab work. You don't know that they couldn't have found a solution back then, or that they won't find it now. Time has passed; both knowledge and technology have increased. It's far from over, Raph. Don't accept this as a death sentence for Mike, or any of you."
Raphael closed his eyes briefly. "Kari, I wanna believe in miracles. I wanna believe that the same weird destiny that shaped our lives and brought us together before we were even transformed still exists. I just don't know how to right now."
She gripped his chin with surprising force and made him look up at her. "If this family is worth saving, if you love Olivia even more than the day you met her, you're going to have to change that, Raph. I know you can't feel it right now - neither than I. But sometimes it isn't about what you can see or feel. When you can't find hope that way, faith is all you have left. This isn't the end. The sooner you guys can get over that hump, the sooner we can do something."
The house had settled into an eery silence that made Greg feel so uncomfortable that he wanted to go to his room, the way most of the others already had. Luke was the only one he'd actually spoken with at length, after Greg and Marcus had returned from Asheville. He'd sat with Michelangelo and Rebecca for a while without talking, but the way the young woman was clinging to the turtle made Greg feel like he was intruding. The urge to get back in the car and drive was strong, but it didn't seem like it would be the best use of his time.
He'd noticed the curious fact that Jenna was milling around the house aimlessly, without ever coming to rest. Greg had already heard what the older turtles were doing, and Luke had briefly touched on Donny's breakdown. That didn't explain why Jenna wasn't with him. As she made her circuit past the Great Room, he got up to meet her this time.
"Have you seen Don lately?"
With pursed lips, she shook her head. "He's not talking to anyone. I've seen him come close to this before, Greg; I remember how hard it was in the aftermath of Splinter's death. But even then, he didn't shut me out completely. Not like this. I want to be with Donny, but he's not there. It's like staring at someone who's already three-quarters of the way dead, with nothing left to live for."
"Jenna, sit down," Greg urged her. "Get off your feet. Don hasn't gone anywhere, and God willing, his mind will be back soon." He directed the reluctant woman into chair. "You know him, Jen, so you know this won't last."
She breathed anxiously. "I don't know what to do in the meantime."
"Stay here and find a calm place. I'll be back in a little while."
Greg headed for the stairs and scaled the two flights that would take him to the third floor. The purple-masked turtle was across the room in the Lab. The IV unit had been disconnected and was sitting in a corner, but Donny was curled up facing the wall. If he heard Greg coming (and the man had a hard time believing that he didn't), Donatello chose to ignore him.
Greg pondered the situation before grabbing a desk chair, and wheeling it over to him. "Y'know, Donny...I'm thinking all of this might be a little premature," he said evenly. "I know that everyone needs time to grieve in their own way, but uh...it's not that time yet. So forgive me if it feels like I'm being hard on you, but there are some things that I need to say."
The turtle didn't acknowledge him, but the man continued.
"I think you're being pretty selfish right now. Your little brother just found out he has a deadly condition, and he didn't even hear it from you. Mike has calmly accepted that he's going to die, and you've done absolutely nothing to reassure him, or give him a spark of hope that he might still have a shot. I understand that all of this comes as a complete shock, even more so because of how it could affect all of you. But you're getting the cart before the horse; your steps are out of order. The Donny I know doesn't accept defeat without even trying to fight. That's the opposite of who you are. Your family needs you, and you need them, so why don't you cut this out, and come downstairs?"
Donatello's eyes narrowed as he faced him for the first time. "You don't understand, you couldn't possibly. You have no idea what it's like to carry this."
"Sure, Don, because I don't know anything about death or grief," he replied sarcastically. "I'm just the one who found my dead mother's body when I was thirteen years old. But you know more than me, of course."
"That isn't what I mean, Greg. You're human. You can walk around as free as a bird, and get help from anywhere you need it."
"I don't understand what you're saying, Donny. Are you mad at me because I'm human, because I have more freedom than you?"
"I'm not mad at you! I'm mad at the facts, I'm mad that we didn't figure this out sooner! I'm mad that there's nothing left to depend on."
Greg took a deep breath, wondering if he could force some of his own calm to overtake the turtle. "Don, it's only been recently that Mike took a turn for the worse. You had no reason to suspect that his condition was related to your Sensei's."
"There were reasons to suspect it," Donatello said bitterly. "I just didn't look the right direction. We should have delved deeper sooner, we should have-"
"Stop it. You can go on all night about what you could have done, Don, but it's irrelevant. None of it matters. You should be focusing on trying to make Mike get better, not feeling guilty. Why are you acting like this is over before you even have a chance to address it?"
"Greg, how much do you know about stem cells?"
The man sat back in the chair, considering the question. "Not much."
"The study of them has been going on for decades, Heff, and researchers are still only cracking the surface. The reason my Sensei told me to back off of saving him, was because he knew I couldn't do it. He gave me an out, and I took it."
"You respected his wishes."
"He was right, Greg. I didn't know enough about stem cells to save him back then, and I don't have the ability to help Mike now. This is over my head, way over my head. I'm talking about dealing with an infinitesimal number of cells, the need to reproduce healthy stem cells at a rate of which we can't possibly attain. It can't be done. The lungs don't produce very many stem cells to begin with. If I had another ten years of work to dedicate to this, I might come up with a method to reverse the damage done to the lung tissue, if the rest of us have that long. But Mike? There's no way. He doesn't have enough time left. It is over for him, Greg. How am I supposed to tell him that?"
"You don't possess the research or the knowledge, but what about someone else, Don? What about the Genetic Institute sitting at the bottom of this mountain?"
"Greg, it isn't as if I can just read what they've done and replicate their life's work. It's a lot more complicated than that."
"Does that mean you're not even willing to try? Don, I can't accept that from you. I won't. We've been up against massive odds in the past too, and still come out on top. You never quit, despite how little chance there was of success. I won't let you stop now."
"This is entirely different."
"No it isn't, not when you really think about it. In every situation, the odds were vastly stocked against you. You had no guarantee of winning, but you still went forward, regardless. Why was it better to keep going, Don?"
Donatello didn't answer, and Greg plunged ahead.
"I'll tell you why. Because it's more honorable to die trying to pull something off, than to run away without attempting it. If you have a chance to fight, Donny, then fight 'til the end. And then if we lose...if someone dies, at least they'll go out knowing you did everything you could have. Isn't it better to lose a battle that you were bold enough to fight, than to surrender and accept automatic defeat?"
Donatello's chest heaved with emotion. "I don't know if I can do this," he said honestly.
"You're not going to carry this alone, Don, which is essentially what you're trying to do now. Get out of this room, and stop hiding."
The purple-masked turtle rose to his feet without another word, and Greg followed him slowly down the stairs. He rested one hand softly on Donny's shoulder as they approached the Great Room.
"Don?" Michelangelo looked surprised, his blue eyes widening as his brother dropped to his knees by the couch where he was sitting. "Donny, what are you..."
Donatello's arms went around the orange-masked turtle as he dissolved into tears once more. "I'm sorry, Mikey. I'm so sorry."