Michelangelo had been lying awake on his side of the bed alone for several minutes, before he decided to get up and check on Becky. The young woman had left the room as quietly as she could, but she hadn't succeeded in slipping out without waking up the turtle.
She shoulda been back by now.
Mike eased off the mattress and rose stiffly to his feet. He hesitated mid-stride as a coughing spell overtook him, and it took a few seconds to catch his breath. Mike fought to breathe from his diaphragm the way Marcus had taught him, and he slowly finished walking across the room. The turtle braced a hand against the doorframe as he passed under it, and he shuffled toward the bathroom down the hall. Rebecca had refused to use the one attached to their room.
She was probably afraid I was gonna hear something. Why on earth is she trying to hide this, like the rest of us aren't going to know what's going on, he thought anxiously. We remember everything Karina went through with the stem cell treatments, and the 'rejection sickness.' It only makes sense that Beck's gonna deal with a lot of the same stuff, but I never pictured how hard it would be to watch.
The orange-masked turtle stumbled and had to lean against the wall for extra support to keep his bearings.
"Hello?" Greg's voice carried from the Great Room.
"It's just me, Heff," Mike called. "Are you and Bran still up?"
Greg appeared around the corner. "We came back down here a couple of minutes ago. Are you okay?"
"So, so," he admitted. "Beck's been gone for a while, so I was coming to check on her."
Greg nodded. "Do you know where she went? I'll help you look."
"Just the bathroom, I think. Do you mind standing by in case I need you?"
"No. I'll wait right here until you tell me otherwise."
"Will you hop on one foot while singing 'Take Me Out to the Ball-Game'?"
"Why would I do that, Mike?"
"I just wanted to see how far you'd go for me."
"Ye-ah, okay. Why don't you go check on your girl now?"
"Good idea." Mike walked a couple more paces and hesitated in front of the bathroom door. He knocked firmly. "Beck? Are you still in there?"
"Yes..." she called faintly.
"Do you need help?"
"Probably."
"Can I come in?"
"Uh huh."
Michelangelo turned the doorknob and found the young woman sprawled on the floor in front of the toilet. He took a sharp breath and got down on the tile beside her. "Becky? Can you get up?"
The curly-haired woman shook her head. "Not right now. Don't worry, Mike, I'll work up to it."
"The heck you will," he muttered, then raised his voice. "Heff, c'mere, would you?"
The man appeared at the door, and gave Mike a quizzical look.
"Will you help me up, then help her up?" Mike requested.
Greg gave the turtle an arm off the floor, and exchanged places with Mike so he could reach Rebecca.
"Greg, it's fine," she told the man, but she couldn't keep her teeth from chattering that time.
"Don't be like that, Becky. Put your arms around my neck, and I'm going to get you up."
Rebecca didn't fight Greg any further, and Mike backed all the way into the hall as the man pulled her off the floor.
"You can leave me in our room," she suggested.
"I don't know." Greg hesitated. "I should get Donny and Marc, don't you think? That was the first transfusion you had a couple days ago. They'd want to know how you're reacting."
"I second that," Mike agreed, and pointed Greg toward the Great Room.
He allowed the man to go first carrying Becky, hanging back as he struggled through another wheeze that had settled deep in his chest. Mike leaned partially against the wall as he trudged to the Great Room, and the journey seemed to take twice as long as it should have. His legs felt almost unbearably heavy as he gratefully dropped into a chair and gazed at his wife. Rebecca's head was leaning against the armrest on the couch. The young woman was still shivering, though he could now tell she was also sweating.
Aw, Becky...why do you have to try to do this on your own? I wish I were strong enough to take care of you, Mike thought, as he watched Greg cover her with a blanket.
Her blue-green eyes met him as if she could hear his thoughts, and Becky extended one arm out of the blanket toward him. Mike took her hand, gripping it with all the assurance he could muster.
"I'm going to grab Don and Marcus," Greg volunteered.
Brandon hovered in front of Mike and Becky, looking unsure. "What can I do, Mike? Anything?"
"Why don't you get Becky some water?" the turtle requested.
She raised her head a couple of inches. "Yes," she said hoarsely.
When Brandon had gone, the young woman turned her neck to face Mike, and he caught her grimace.
"Are you in pain?" he asked.
"Some. I got sick a couple of times...then I could hardly move. I didn't mean to keep you up."
"Would you quit worrying about me for a second, at least until we've taken care of you?" he chided.
Mike scooted to the edge of his chair, forgetting about the pain that was seizing his own chest as he tried to make her feel better in some small way. He brushed away the wild curls that were nearly covering her face, and rested his hand against her cheek.
"You're hot," he said quietly.
"Doesn't feel like it," she returned.
Brandon returned with water, and he had been thoughtful enough to stuff a straw into the neck of the bottle for her. "Nice to be down here with all of you," he commented. "We patients have to stick together."
Brandon quip made Mike smile, and he thought he saw Becky's lips curl up slightly too. The orange-masked turtle took a shallow breath as he studied the shaking woman.
This has to be pretty normal, right? I shouldn't be getting worried yet, not unless Donny or the docs are. I wonder if they'd tell me they were concerned at this point.
He was happy to hear the distinct pattern of his brother's feet on the stairs, followed by Greg's louder steps. The man went straight down the hall to rouse Marcus, while the purple-masked turtle came into the Great Room.
"What is this, the party after the party?" Donatello seemed to be taking great strides to sound light.
"Oh yeah, party animals. You found us," Becky murmured from the couch.
Donatello knelt by the coffee table with his scanner in hand. "I'm just going to take a couple of readings, Becky. I won't bother you very much, I promise."
"You don't bother me," she said.
Donatello chuckled. "You'll change your tune by the time you have this baby. Ask Karina." He gazed over at Mike as he waited for the scanner to load results. The probing look made Mike wonder if he'd already heard the catch in his breathing. If his brother heard it, he chose not to say anything.
Brandon touched Mike's shoulder, gently encouraging him to sit back further. "Can I get you something, Mike?"
"Not now, thanks. Aren't you tired, Bran?"
"With the amount of time I've spent sleeping? I've been bored out of my freakin' mind at that military installation."
"They took good care of you though, right?"
Brandon nodded. "It was great, except for the part when they held me against my will."
Marcus laughed humorlessly from the other side of the room. "Yeah, those darn hospitals treat you all like inmates, huh?"
"Absolutely - they're the worst." Brandon gave Marc a wry smile.
"Becky, have you kept anything down today?" Don asked the woman suddenly.
She shook her head. "I tried to eat normally, Donny, it just didn't happen. Or I couldn't hold onto it, I should say."
The purple-masked turtle shook his head. "You're better at hiding this than Karina was. Don't suffer silently, Becky. When you're having issues like this, it can be indicative of a bigger problem that we need to know about."
"Am I okay?"
"You're in the beginning stages of the rejection sickness that's induced by the stem cells. After you've had a couple of transfusions, it shouldn't be as severe; at least, it wasn't for Karina. But we need to know about everything, understand? No matter how small and insignificant it might seem to you. You're already too dehydrated, and that's not good for you, or the baby."
"Do you want to do an IV tonight?" Marcus asked.
"Isn't it a little soon for that?" Becky returned.
Donatello shrugged. "We have the machine, and it would help you feel better, Becky. It's portable enough to bring down here, and I could set you up in your own bed."
"Okay," she agreed.
By the swiftness of her assent, Mike knew she was feeling worse than she wanted to let on. Darn it, Becky. You don't want to be a problem or to add to the burden, and you're putting yourself last. I can't let you do that.
"Greg, would you mind taking Becky back to the room, and Marc and I will gather what we need," Don instructed.
The man gathered the young woman up and gave Mike an impish grin.
"Don't get used to carrying my wife around," Mike said sardonically.
"Please," Greg scoffed. "Once you go turtle, you don't go back."
The way Brandon burst out laughing made Mike's smile wider.
Rebecca gave all of them a withering look. "Greg's got a beautiful Asian flower of his own, Mike. I don't think I'm going to be the one to tempt him away, particularly in this condition."
Mike focused on the young woman and shook his head. I doubt she'll ever understand how beautiful she is, and not just to me.
The orange-masked turtle straightened out the blanket on the bed so that Greg could put the young woman down.
The man patted her shoulder kindly. "Now you're safe and sound."
"Is your back safe and sound?" she asked.
Greg snorted. "I think you must have this vision of yourself weighing a whole lot more than you actually do."
"Whatever you say, Greg. Thanks for helping me."
"Anytime."
Mike nodded gratefully too. "Will you make sure Bran gets some sleep too?"
Greg nodded. "I'm on it already. He doesn't have another hour in him, I guarantee it."
When Don and Marcus returned with the IV machine, another furry head poked inside the room curiously.
Michelangelo heard a soft meow, and he shifted onto his side on the bed. "Hey, c'mere, Tiger," he called.
The orange and white cat slipped into the room, skirting around Donatello as he was setting up the machine.
"Look who decided to grace us with her presence, Beck." Mike nudged her lightly.
Rebecca smiled as the cat trotted across the mattress and came to rest in between Mike and Becky.
"Well, you guys can have the rest of the night off," Mike joked. "Tiger is going to take things from here."
Rebecca rubbed her hand over the cat's head, and the feline started purring almost immediately.
"She always seems to know when she's needed," Don remarked. "You're the chosen ones tonight, Mike. How is your airway faring? Are you having trouble breathing?"
"Some."
"How descriptive," Marcus replied. "A little more please?"
Mike shrugged. "I think I need to sit up further."
"I'll grab another pillow." Marcus headed out to the hall.
"We've got great service here, huh, Beck?" Mike caressed another curl out of her face.
"The very best, Mikey."
"You guys can kind of keep an eye on each other too," Donatello said. "Unless you want me to sleep over again."
"Don't make yourself too comfortable, Donny," Mike answered. "Tiger's already staked her claim, so you'll have to come back another night."