*Wow...25 chapters to go. It's difficult to believe we've come so far. I'm hard at work on Watchmen, which is proving to be the most evil fic I've written thus far...and I think that's saying a lot. You'll be pretty happy I'm already working on it behind the scenes when we get to the end of Refuge.

The beginning of the transplant was somewhat anticlimactic for Michelangelo. He'd known that it wasn't going to be like undergoing an actual surgery, but after all the research and work that had been going on in the background, it was strange for the procedure to feel so easy. He'd been on the IV for a little over two hours, and according to Caleb, he was about halfway through the process.

The orange-masked turtle was actually feeling a little bored. Others had been coming and going, but no one stayed for a long period of time. Mike had the sense that no one wanted to make him feel like a fish inside an aquarium. One of the doctors always stayed put inside the Lab, while everyone else filtered in and out at random.

Mike heard the door opening, and grinned when he saw Becky come in.

"Hey, Mikey," she said quietly.

"Hi, Beck, c'mon in here. Where've you been?"

"Hanging around. I don't want to get in anyone's way, or keep you from resting. Are you doing okay?"

He nodded. "A little sick to my stomach, but the docs said that could happen."

Mike gazed at the young woman probingly. Rebecca looked like she had better color today. She'd lost weight over the last month, and had already needed the IV a number of times to get nutrients.

She dropped into the available chair beside him, and reached for his hand. "Aren't you getting bored laying here?" Becky asked knowingly.

"I was, until you got here. I guess it's too much to ask for a sick turtle to get a little in-house entertainment. The docs are working their tails off to save my life, but forget about getting me a TV," he joked, intentionally raising his voice so that Marcus would hear him.

The man shook his head. "Sorry we didn't put that in our notes somewhere. I'll get on that, stat."

Michelangelo winked at the man. "Make sure you do, Marc," he cracked, but then looked at the young woman. "You're more interesting than some TV show anyway."

Rebecca chuckled. "Well, thanks, Mike. Does that mean you want a story time?"

He grinned. "Have you got something good on deck?"

"What are you in the mood for?"

"Surprise me."

"Hm," she said thoughtfully. "Did I ever tell you about my favorite Thanksgiving in the Congo?"

He shook his head. "Seeing as how we've got about a month to go until Thanksgiving, it sounds appropriate."

"I was eight years old. We were supposed to be leaving the country on a short furlough to the United States," she said. "We were going to catch our flight out of Kinshasa, but the plane never made it to the city. My Mom normally made plans for us to celebrate Thanksgiving in the rainforest months in advance. Even though we were living in a foreign country, she wanted to give my sister and me an injection of the true American traditions.

"But since we were supposed to be in America over the holiday, she hadn't made any of those preparations, or had things shipped into the country. It was disappointing because I always looked forward to those special times of year when we could celebrate in a more 'extravagant' fashion. I remember getting a couple of tears when I found out we weren't getting our flight, and there was nothing left to do but head back to the rainforest.

"My mom pulled me aside, and I figured I was in for a lecture about being grateful for what we had. I thought she was going to tell me not to complain, but all she did was try to encourage me. 'Things don't always work out the way we've planned,' she said, 'but that doesn't mean they have to be bad. Some of the greatest opportunities in your life will be born from the ashes of your greatest disappointments.'

"We got on the ferry to go home. It was going to be one of those several-hour cruises down the river, and the boat was packed. There were so many people that you could hardly move or breathe without hitting someone. It had been the last boat, which meant the trip carried into the overnight hours. The ferry stopped at another port for the night, and we got as much sleep as we could.

"My mom woke me up before dawn, and said she'd decided we were having Thanksgiving for breakfast. The morning market was getting ready to open in the city, and she brought me along to help pick things out. We found a few fishermen who'd hit a stroke of good luck the day before, with some of the nicest fish I'd ever seen in a market. I remember my mom hemming and hawing over those fish like it was a huge decision, and wondering why she didn't pick something.

"My mom shocked the vendors and me when she proclaimed that she wanted their entire supply. I was still really confused as she acquired the assistance of a young man in getting the catch back to the ferry. But it didn't end there. We stopped by other stalls along the way, and she cleaned them out in a similar fashion, using the money she'd originally set aside for buying things stateside when we touched down. Needless to say, the currency went a lot further in the DRC than it could have in the US.

"We continued to head in the direction of the Congo River, and the others who'd been traveling on the boat with us began to take notice of the two of us with all the food." Rebecca smiled at the memory. "It was amazing. For a few moments I thought there was going to be chaos. I braced myself for being trampled and crushed underfoot as people would surge forward to get to the food. There were people on that ferry who hadn't had a decent meal in weeks, and they were desperate."

"So what happened?"

Becky shook her head. "I can't explain it, Mike. My mom addressed all of them calmly - I don't know how they heard her - and they settled down. She had them sit down in groups, and recruited more people to help cook and prepare the meal for everyone. I never thought there would be enough food to feed all those people, but somehow, there was."

She laughed suddenly. "My parents explained the tradition of Thanksgiving to the natives, and all of them were so interested. I think they would have gladly adopted any holiday that involved being fed that well. The festive atmosphere persisted through the rest of the trip down river. Whereas people had been stony and silent, now they were downright enthusiastic and kind to each other. It was one of the most powerful experiences I ever had in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and I never forgot it."

Mike nodded. "That's really cool, Becky. It must make all other Thanksgivings pale in comparison."

"I've certainly never had one with a greater emotional roller coaster, that's for sure."

"So should I ask Karina to get fish on the menu for next month?"

Rebecca giggled. "I'm not really picky about what I eat right now, Mikey, as long as I can hold it down."

Michelangelo watched as her soft expression changed into a more serious one while she looked at the IV unit that was providing the transplant. "This isn't so bad, right?" He offered her a half grin.

"It doesn't seem to be," she agreed.

"You got any more stories rolling around in that pretty head of yours?"

"Uh uh, Mike, it's your turn to tell. Do you have any good ones?"

"There could be some story interesting enough to share," he replied impishly.

Mike wasn't happy about being forced to stay in the Lab after the treatment had completed, but he wasn't surprised either. He wanted to be in his own bed, but he kept his mouth shut and didn't complain when he found out the docs were holding him in custody. The orange-masked turtle felt nervous about the possibility of complications, but none of the geniuses were panicking, so he was trying to relax too.

Caleb had explained to him that the transplants would take place over a four-month period, further cementing the fact that their stay at Lotus Salvus was going to be an extended one.

Well...I already knew we were gonna be here for awhile. I wonder how things are back in the city. I wonder if there's anything left of our old home.

Mike sighed anxiously. He'd avoided thinking about New York City as much as possible, but for some reason concern was rising anew tonight. He turned his head to look at Luke sitting behind the desk, hoping to get encouragement of some kind.

"Hey, Doc? Have you heard anything about the city lately?"

The blond man wheeled around in his chair. "They're still experiencing little aftershocks, much smaller than the original quake. The bridges and tunnels that weren't badly damaged are opening back up. The historic areas were some of the hardest hit. There were several buildings destroyed - brick front, like our loft was."

"What about down by the Civic Center?"

"About half the block is gone. The soil composition was just too unstable to support the weight of the structures after it was compromised by the tremors."

"Did many people die?"

Luke looked away. "There have been roughly 1700 deaths, overall."

Michelangelo let the number hang in the air, silently pondering how many families were affected by the deaths.

"Are you homesick?" Luke asked.

"Kind of, but just in the sense that I want to make sure I see the city again. There's a part of me that feels like I'm not going to get the chance."

Luke scooted his chair over to the bedside. "Because you're wondering if you're going to make it at all?"

"Nothing's for sure, right? I try not to worry about things, but sometimes it still comes up, Doc, no matter how hard I fight it."

"It still bugs you that we won't give your chances in a percentage, doesn't it?"

"There's being positive, and then there's fooling yourself. I don't wanna fall in the second category."

Luke grimaced. "You know it's not possible for us to give you something that we don't have, Mike. Are you feeling unsure about the transplant you just had?"

The turtle shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm still scared over how everything's going to turn out. I'm glad it's started, but there's a long way to go. I don't need you to make me feel better about it, Doc, I'm just being honest. I'm not brave all the time."

The man ducked his head. "No one is, Mike. I want to support you however I can, and that means I want to make you feel better somehow."

Mike stared vacantly at the ceiling overhead until the man brushed his shoulder.

"What are you thinking, Mike?"

"About that first night with you, when we didn't know if Donny was gonna make it or not."

Luke nodded. "That was a rough night."

"You walked in, and you were instantly in control."

The man laughed. "On the outside maybe. Inside, I was freaking out and wondering how I was going to do anything but hasten the death of a kid who was already dying."

Mike rolled over to face Luke. "You were amazing. I remember watching how calm you were, and thinking you had to be from another planet."

Luke shook his head. "One of the best things my parents ever taught me was the benefit of not panicking. I think that was part of the reason I was such a good fit with the ER."

"You took a real chance on us, Doc. We could have been flesh-eating monsters for all you knew."

Luke grinned. "I gave April the benefit of the doubt. I kind of figured she wasn't setting me up to get eaten alive."

Mike looked past the man at the computer screen he'd been monitoring. He knew that Luke had been watching his vital statistics that were being transmitted from the implanted homing beacon of Donatello's design.

"What are you watching for over there, Doc?"

"I've just observing the normal things. Your heart rate, blood pressure, the works. We're not just being overprotective, you know. If you'd had a normal stem cell transplant in a hospital, they would have kept you too."

"Because a lot of things can go wrong," Mike filled in.

Luke shrugged. "That's nothing new for us, is it?"

Mike turned his head as he picked up footsteps echoing faintly in the stairwell, and then through the hall. A bronze-haired woman appeared in the doorway, and Katherine emerged into the Lab with a blanket-wrapped Reina.

"Someone wanted to say good night to a couple of her favorite people," Kat said.

Luke smiled as he took the baby from her, and kissed Reina's forehead.

"Dada!"

"You can say it, Reina," Kat encouraged her. "Say 'daddy.'"

"Dadee!"

Luke cuddled the little girl close against his chest, as if he had no plans of letting her go anytime soon.

"She's been trying to repeat after me all day," the woman remarked. "It's been pretty funny."

The man seemed to enjoy the way Reina rested her head against his shoulder. "She's a sleepy girl."

"She needs a bottle and night night," Katherine replied.

"Boddle?"

"That's right, sweetie," Luke told the baby. "Do you want to see your Uncle Mikey?"

The orange-masked turtle grinned. It was only an honorary title as far as Reina was concerned, but he, Leo, and Donny accepted it with pride. He loved the way Reina squealed as Luke handed the baby over to him. The little's girls hands patted his cheeks, immediately gravitating to the familiar surface of his skin.

"You gonna be a good girl and sleep nice for Mommy?" Mike asked seriously. "Maybe your Daddy will actually let me play with you tomorrow."

"Dadee!"

Her giggle made him want to talk to her more, but he willingly released the baby back to Katherine after a minute or so.

"Now say 'bye bye,' Reina," Kat told her.

The baby waved a hand over Katherine's shoulder. "Buh bye."

"Good girl, Reina. You're so smart." Katherine cooed at the baby as she left the room.

Mike fixed Luke with a smile. "You'd never guess Kat could kick your tail faster than you can blink."

Luke nodded seriously. "She can still dish it out, believe me. But she really loves being a mom. I can't wait to see you with a kid of your own, Mike."

The turtle relaxed against his pillow. Everyone preferred to talk to him in the sense that he was going to live, and it was what he wanted to believe with all of his heart too. "I'm excited too, Doc. Feels like I've been waiting my whole life for this, or at least I was wishing for it, even when we figured it was impossible. Sometimes I'm glad the brainiacs aren't right about everything."