Chapter 4

What a year.

Leonardo pulled his winter coat tighter, inhaled deeply, and let his breath out slowly, warming his hands with the steam. After weeks of bundling up and blasting the space heater in their underground home, it was bracing to be on a city rooftop at night. If it hadn't been for a break in the deep freeze, they would have joined Splinter and his arthritic knees in front of the television tonight. But their sensei had encouraged them to go, insisting good-naturedly that they were too young to settle for keeping an old rat company.

"One minute," Don announced. "Show's about to begin."

"Who wants some more?" Mike hoisted the bottle of champagne and refilled Don's plastic wine cup. "Raph?"

Raphael shook his head. He looked groggy and not too keen to be here. Winter slowed them all down, knocked off their metabolism, made them sleep a lot.

"Brothers, a toast." Mike raised his cup solemnly. They all did likewise. "To April and Casey. Damn them."

Chuckles all around as they thought of their friends, relaxing on a Mediterranean veranda.

"And to all that we have to be thankful for," he added.

"Hear, hear," Don said. The first whistles went off and bursts of fiery color began erupting over the New York skyline.

Leonardo sipped his cheap champagne. What would he remember most from this year? Raphael near death from poison. Donatello cut open on an operating table. Karai kneeling in the courtyard. Each time, him, feeling helpless, as helpless as he was now to prevent the images from rising to mind. He pulled himself back to the present, appreciating anew the bite of cold on his skin, the fireworks in the sky, the company of his brothers. The one thing he did care to remember was that they'd all survived. That was nothing short of a miraculous accomplishment.

They finished off the bottle and stayed until the distant popping sounds and the accompanying blooms grew faint and infrequent. "That's all, folks," Mike said, "After party in Splinter's room!"

They took their time getting back, avoiding crowds of revelers in the streets. The few dozen feet of tunnels near home glowed from the colored Christmas lights that Mike and Don had strung up last month. The effect was more psychedelic underground nightclub than joyful Noel, but it elicited smiles nonetheless.

Mike threw his arms around Leo and Raph's shoulders and launched into song. "Should old acquaintance be forgot..."

"...And never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance..." Don joined in and Leo added his voice to the off-key chorus. Down here, they were free to sing as loudly as they wanted. He felt warm and relaxed from the drinks and the foray outside. Painful memories and worries receded like the mouths of the tunnels around them. And why not? It was a new year after all.

Mike stopped singing. "Hey Raph, you okay?"

"Yeah." Raphael took another couple steps, then staggered and nearly fell against the tunnel wall.

Michelangelo caught him under the arm. "C'mon, you've barely had anything to drink yet," he ribbed, but his expression belied his surprise and concern. Raphael had started the evening tired and uncommunicative, but now they saw that his face was flushed and his eyes were glazed with exhaustion.

Mike put the back of his hand to Raph's head. "Hey, you're pretty warm."

Raph swatted the hand away and steadied himself. "I think I've come down with the flu, okay? Let's keep going."

Donatello was suddenly very serious. "Raph," he said, standing in front of his brother and taking him by the shoulders, "have you noticed anything else? Any other weird symptoms?"

Raphael frowned. "Like what?"

"Like... are you... not urinating as much?"

Sullen, embarrassed silence.

"Does this hurt?" Don pressed down on Raphael's torso, under the ribcage.

"Jeezus," Raphael hissed, wincing with pain and shoving his brother's hands away. "Alright, doc, lay off. What's the matter with me, since you seem to know."

Donatello looked to Mike and Leo in dismay. "I thought Chambers said I was a perfect match."

"He did," Leo said. A pit had opened up in his stomach and the earlier lightness of the evening was draining out of it. "But he also said that was no guarantee."

"But he's been healthy for months," Mike said, stricken.

"Apparently it can still happen, months or years later."

"What? What are you talking about?" Raphael demanded.

Leo met his gaze. "Organ rejection."