Michelangelo was oblivious to the happy screams of Reina and Olivia as they played near his feet on the rug. The little girl and baby turtle were in their element, enjoying the extra playtime they were getting together. Mike normally loved watching their antics, but entertainment was the furthest thing from his mind right now.
He wanted to be with Donatello, but he didn't want to infringe on Jenna's space. At the same time, he felt obligated to help out somehow, and his choices this afternoon had been to either cook or keep an eye on the girls for a while. No matter what Mike was doing, his injured brother was at the forefront of his thoughts.
I wish there was a way to make time go more quickly; just fast forward through all of this waiting, and find out how it's going to end. Sitting here wondering is about to drive me out of my mind. Then I think about what it must have been like for Donny being out there all alone, and it makes me wanna throw up.
The lamp on the side table to his right flickered and went out. Mike looked around swiftly, to find the babies playing with the power cord and the outlet. "You guys, no," he said, more exasperated with himself than with Reina and Olivia. That's what we need – one of them to get electrocuted because I wasn't paying attention.
The orange-masked turtle got down on the rug, and smiled faintly as Olivia toddled over to him. She squealed with joy over his coming to her level, throwing both arms around his neck as far as they could reach.
"Thanks, Liv, you're a sweet girl." He pulled the baby turtle off the floor, squeezing her in return.
Reina was on his other side in seconds, tapping his arm.
"Hang on, Reina, there's enough Mikey to go around for everyone."
The human girl grabbed the tails of his bandana and yanked so hard that it jerked his head.
"Geesh, kid, take it easy with Uncle Mike, okay? We're having some rough times around here."
"Reina, no," Luke called firmly from across the room.
The blond girl released her grip on Mike's bandana as her father approached.
"That wasn't nice," Luke said seriously. "You need to say sorry to Mike."
"Mi-kee," the two year old repeated.
"Say sorry," Luke encouraged her again.
Reina gently patted the older turtle's arm. "Sa-wee."
Mike chuckled. "She doesn't know her own strength yet, Doc."
Reina turned around to face Luke again and held out her arms to be picked up. The man boosted her onto his side, while he gazed down fondly at Olivia on the floor.
"I think Reina likes showing off for Olivia. These two really get along great," Luke remarked.
"It'll be interesting to see how Nate mixes things up, you know, when he gets bigger." Michelangelo grinned at the thought of his two-month-old, but the smile quickly faded. He could really only be distracted for so long. "Doc, what's going on with Donny? I get the feeling like I shouldn't even ask, but I can't help it. I have to know."
"You're allowed to ask," Luke replied. "You don't ever need to hold back, Mike. We're still battling with his ICP, though you could say we've got the upper hand on it. It's nowhere near as high as it was before, we're just fighting to get it back to a normal range."
"But it's still gonna be days before you know how badly he was hurt?"
"Unfortunately, yes. We have to wait for the swelling to abate."
"Do you have any idea…I mean…how bad are the odds stacked against Donny?"
The man sat down on the couch, adjusting Reina in his lap before replying. "I don't like to get into numbers, Mike. I've seen enough action between you guys and the ER to know that statistics are nothing more than figures. They're not completely reliable when it comes to individual cases. I'm not going to give you some life or death ratio, because I don't even trust myself to gauge it accurately. This is an extraordinary trial, but your brother is an extraordinary guy."
"But like…if you knew something else really bad, you wouldn't hold out on us, would you?" Mike wanted to put the question into more precise words, but couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Mike, if I thought he had no chance of recovery, I'd say so," Luke answered. "I'm not about to give you false hope where there isn't any. I can tell you that things aren't good. It's about as bad as it's ever been for Donny, but it's not over. I won't write him off as a lost cause unt-unless I have to."
Mike brushed his hand over the back of Olivia's head. "I keep going back over that night again and again. I ask myself why the shell I didn't wake up sooner – why did it take me so long to realize that he was in trouble?"
Luke shook his head. "You're looking at this the wrong way. You're the reason Don is alive, beyond anything that Marc, Caleb, or I could have done. The fact is no one else knew anything was wrong. You got the message and acted on it. That's why Donny is still around. He has you to thank for that, Mikey – we all do. That's the truth, and every time you're tempted to blame yourself because you didn't get up fast enough, I want you to remember that."
Mike clenched his eyes shut as tears threatened, and busied himself cuddling Olivia closer to his plastron. The baby cooed as he clutched her more securely, and he opened his eyes to find Liv staring at him. Her expression was curious, almost as if she was trying to figure him out.
"Mikey?" Raphael's call traveled over the stairwell from the second floor. "Is everything cool with the girls? I didn't mean to fall asleep."
Mike cleared his throat softly to steady his voice. "Yeah, sure, Raph. What could go wrong with me around to corrupt the kids?"
The red-masked turtle started descending the stairs to the ground level, and Mike got to his feet to meet him with Olivia.
"Dadada!" Olivia's amber eyes came to life again when she saw her father.
"She must be tired of me torturing her," Mike quipped, but it felt forced.
It was obvious his brother felt the same thing. "You okay, Mike?"
"Yeah, I'm…" He considered saying "fine", but then changed his mind. "No, not really, if I'm being honest here."
Raphael took Olivia from him in one arm and extended the other around his shoulder. "We gotta be real with each other, Mikey. It's okay to feel…"
"Weak?" Mike filled in bitterly. "Powerless? Useless?"
"You ain't none of those things, Bro," Raphael said more gruffly. "You can't help how you feel, but at the end of the day, you have to realize you're anything but frail."
Mike shrugged and glanced back at Luke, who was mutely watching both turtles. "I think I wanna go check on how Jen's doing."
"You don't need permission to look in on Donny too," Luke reminded him.
Raphael gave him a parting pat on the shell as Mike headed for the Lab. When he got to the door he gripped the handle for a few seconds before he was able to turn it. How is it possible to feel this empty already? It's like I'm trying to prepare myself for the worst up front, but I can't give in to that yet. It might be easier if I just accept that there's not much hope, so I don't have to cling to the dream of a miraculous breakthrough. But Donny's not frail either, and he won't give in if he's got any say in the matter.
Brandon shivered as strongly as his restraints allowed. He was so cold, he felt like his goose bumps probably had goose bumps. He'd lost track of how many times he'd been soaked to the bone, and how often he'd been interrupted the moment his ravaged body was beginning to relax.
His teeth chattered he as lay on the hard cement of his "prison cell", wondering how much time he had before someone came around to pay him another visit. The cold was at least a distraction from other sensations, and therefore not completely a bad thing.
Brandon was trying not to think about untreated injuries, or the infection that already had to be building inside the wound tracts. He wanted to focus on the shooting pain of his broken arm even less.
There's absolutely no point in those thugs binding me now. I couldn't mount a defensive if my life depended on it.
As the initial freezing wave from his latest dousing died down, he was assailed by two different kinds of pain in his stomach: one from being kicked repeatedly earlier that day, and another signifying hunger.
It was impossible to tell the difference between day or night in this world of eternal twilight, or to determine how long he'd been here. The brutality of each "session", as Daichi so poignantly described them, seemed to last for hours, but Brandon had a feeling that they were significantly shorter.
The temptation to give in and talk didn't exist. He was no closer to surrendering to Daichi than he'd been when he first arrived, though he was feeling much less like fighting.
How long has it been? Do the guys even know I'm gone? Are they on their way to get me? They don't let people down. The memory of Daichi's words rang in his ears that no one would be able to tell he was missing. The guys are better than that. No one's going to outsmart them.
A bad cramp twisted through his stomach, making it hard to breathe. Brandon groaned against the gag that had been replaced earlier that day. There seemed to be no real purpose for the duct tape, except for making him feel uncomfortable.
That is the purpose, he thought morosely. Anything that can make me more miserable, they're going to do it. I'm still here though. I may not be able to resist physically, but they won't break my mind. They won't.
The cramped space and constant darkness were getting to him, though he'd never been particularly claustrophobic. Brandon had soothed himself the best way he knew how, refusing to give in to the feeling that the walls were closing in on him.
They're playing off the wrong fear, he thought ironically. If they really want to torture me, they need to take me up in a plane with no way down.
Being the butt of his own joke made Brandon feel more like himself, and less like the wounded animal that was instinctively trying to emerge as he dreaded the closet door being opened again. Maybe they'll leave me alone for a little longer this time. Maybe they'll be busy with something else.
Brandon tried to count the passing minutes, feeling no freedom to release the tension in his muscles. Is there anything worse than just lying around waiting for the next "session" to start? I should be sleeping while I can. Instead, I'm torturing myself. But this won't last forever – it's temporary, he reminded himself.
Those words had become his rallying hope over the indiscernible amount of time that he'd been here. I'll last for as long as it takes. The guys will come. They will. I bet Kat would even insist on coming with them. I'd pay big money to watch her kick some tail to kingdom come.
Brandon was drawn out of thought by a strange vibration, which he'd already felt a number of times since being returned to the closet. The very first time he'd noticed the sensation it had sent him into a near panic, as he feared they were experiencing another earthquake. Within a short time he'd realized that the vibration was coming from above him, and not below.
So it's definitely not an aftershock or anything like that. It's still weird though.
The odd waves lasted for what felt like hours at a time, only to abruptly fade away for quiet moments. It was yet another small distraction with which to occupy his mind so he didn't have to think about pain or what the sadistic men would do to him next.
It's not even fair to call them crazy. I swear there's nothing wrong with Daichi's mind, except that he's completely freed himself from the constraints of having a conscience. It's amazing to think that someone can go around doing whatever they please, with no backlash from guilt. Whereas the guys beat their brains out trying to help people, but still feel like it's never enough. There has to be a middle ground here somewhere.
Brandon shuddered as he tried to shift his locked arms, swearing at the pain that coursed through his right one. He hated himself for the emotion that threatened. Have to stay strong, be firm with myself. Don't lose it.
The metal door jarred open, and his heart sank in his chest.
"You awake, James?" Daichi's guttural voice greeted him.
Brandon inwardly cursed the man's name as Daichi rolled him onto his back, crushing his injured arm beneath him.
"Good, very good. I am glad you are up, James, because it is time for the next…What do you call it? Phase?"
I know I don't want to hear this.
Daichi reached down to tear the tape off his mouth. "You will not forget this night, James. Takashi-sama is the true Master, but I learn from him."
"You won't win, you giant lug." The words didn't come out as strongly as Brandon had wanted, but he continued. "They're gonna get you. It's only a matter of time."
Daichi chuckled. "Be concerned for your time, James. I hoped you would not break easily, so it would come to this."
Brandon held his breath as Daichi carried him across the open room, walking further than he had in times past. He could see a small overhead light illuminating the corner of the cavernous space.
More beating? More whipping? What's it gonna be?
As they got closer, the sight of an inverted table hit him like a punch in the face, and Brandon actually struggled in Daichi's arms.
"Yes, you know this, do you?" Daichi grinned. "Your country uses it too. You can make this easy, James. Just answer questions. Is that so bad?"
Real terror lit in Brandon's mind. He can't make me talk. I don't know how long I can keep my mouth shut, but I guarantee he won't get another word of English out of me.
*Just popping in for a quick moment, and popping back out before Brandon can catch up with me. The rescue party will be coming sooner than later. I promise. 'kay, bye.