Chapter 8

Raphael was lying on the sofa, half-asleep, a reality TV show on stand-up comedians playing unnoticed. Michelangelo picked up the remote and turned off the television. He set three white pill bottles on the coffee table.

Raph stirred. His skin was a sickly, cringe-inducing shade of yellowish-green. It took a few seconds for his glassy eyes to focus, first on Michelangelo and then on the pill bottles.

"You have to take all three together," Mike explained.

Raphael sat up far too suddenly and had to steady himself on the edge of the table. He snatched up the bottles and examined them, eyes narrowed. "What is this?"

"Anti-rejection drugs. You'll have to take them for a while, but they should get you back to your mean old self soon enough." He tried for a smile.

Their lair was not large and in the quiet that followed he knew he'd attracted everyone's attention. Leonardo and Splinter came in from the training room. Donatello stopped in the doorway with a blanket he'd presumably been bringing to his brother.

Leonardo crossed over to the sofa and looked from Raph to Mike in bewilderment. "Where did you get them?"

Mike hardened his nerves. With four expectant sets of eyes on him, the reasonable-sounding speech he'd mentally prepared flew from his head, leaving only blunt truth.

"I bargained for them. They're...payment. For work."

Slowly, comprehension dawned on Raphael's sallow face. "You didn't," he intoned.

"Doshida." Leonardo stared aghast at the pill bottles. "These are from him."

"There are whole boxes of them in the south tunnel storage room," Mike said hastily. "Enough to last for years, in case we need more."

Raphael's face contorted, and with a sudden, violent motion he flung the bottles across the room. They ricocheted off the wall, and one of them broke open, sending its small white contents pinging off the furniture and scattering across the floor. "Take them back," he said through gritted teeth.

To his surprise and humiliation, Michelangelo felt tears prick the backs of his eyes. He forced them away and fought unsuccessfully to keep the hurt out of his voice. "Don't be like that, please. It was the only way to get what we needed. Quickly enough, and lots of it."

Leonardo's tone was stony. "We agreed not to have anything to do with Agete."

He'd known it would be like this, but seeing Leonardo and Raphael in such rare and vehement accord against him stunned Michelangelo into silence.

It was Donatello that said, "Actually, I don't recall you asking for opinions."

Leonardo stared at him in disbelief. Coming from Donatello, it was hard not to take the mild remark as a full-blown rebuke. "Saito Doshida," Leonardo said, "is a dishonorable scheming bastard who is the reason why Raph has your kidney in the first place."

"I happen to remember," Donatello said, without a hint of sarcasm. "But he's also opportunistic and resourceful, and willing to strike a deal."

Raphael wheeled on him accusingly. "So you knew about this?"

Don shook his head. "Mike asked me to find out what drugs we'd need."

"First that fucking antidote, and now this." Raphael was livid. "I am not Doshida's charity case!"

"It's not charity," Michelangelo protested. "Like I said, I traded for it."

Raphael opened his mouth to retort, but Splinter cut him off. "Let Michelangelo finish what he has to say."

Splinter had not spoken up until now. Mike tried desperately but unsuccessfully to read his sensei's expression, but the elderly rat was poker-faced as he clasped both his hands over the handle of his walking stick.

Raphael was unable to hold back. "Master Splinter, won't you tell Mike-"

"Enough." Splinter still had the power, with a word, to wield authority over his grown sons. Fuming, Raphael held his tongue. "Now, Michelangelo, explain this situation."

With a pang of chagrin, Mike suddenly felt five years old again. Faced with his father's disapproval, he was reacting as he always did- not defiantly, like Raphael, or responsibly, like Leonardo, or stoically, like Donatello- but plaintively and miserably, spilling himself out like an upturned bag of rice. "I had to do it, Master Splinter, I couldn't- I couldn't stomach what Leo and Raph agreed to, and Don's already done the impossible- so two nights ago I went to Doshida and agreed to work for him. He paid me in advance, I met the shipment this morning at the empty warehouse address I gave him, and there's more coming. Raph's right, we can't count on routinely getting small amounts- I figured Doshida, with his chemicals and poisons and all that, must know how to lay his hands on any sort of drug. And it's fair- I'm not doing anything awful, I won't. It's just three jobs, over three months. Like Don said, he's not out to kill us, and if he wants to use us, we can use him too-"

"What have you agreed to do?" Splinter interjected.

Michelangelo wished he could shrink into his shell like an ordinary turtle. "I only have the first assignment so far. I'm...training one of his squad teams. They're kind of green when it comes to ninja teamwork skills..."

His eyes flicked over to the faces of his brothers. Leonardo seemed to have stopped breathing. "You're training the Rising Hand?" he croaked.

"Err...well, just four people. Listen, I know how risky this sounds, and it's not at all what I intended, believe me. But actually those guys are not all that bad... they're kind of cautious but they don't hate us the way the Foot do. They were even pretty cool about it-"

"Oh go figure," Raphael blurted. "Trust him to make friends with them!"

"Michelangelo," Splinter said. He sighed heavily, his countenance melting into a mixture of compassion, subdued anger, and heartache that made Mike want to crawl to him on his knees. "You acted with the noblest, most caring of intentions. But this... predicament you have put yourself in affects all of us. What is done is done. We must decide what to do now."

"What's to decide? I already told him to take it back," Raphael said. "Deal's off."

"No, I won't. I can't," Mike insisted.

"Do you know how awful you look Raph?" Don said quietly. "You drove Mike to this."

Raphael's eyes bulged. "I drove him-"

"Stop, please!" Mike yelled. "Master," he said, pleading but determined, "I made the decision to act like I did, and I know the danger it puts me in, puts all of us in. But I've already done the worst of it, I've met and started training Doshida's people. Turning back now won't change that, it'll only mean-" he glanced at Raphael and did not finish. He turned to Leonardo. "Leo," he said. "I swore. On the honor of this family, I swore I'd keep my end of the bargain."

Leonardo looked like he was in pain. His eyes traveled from Michelangelo's earnest expression, to Donatello's calm but piercing gaze, to Raphael's disbelieving but horribly pallid face, then finally to his sensei. A look of resigned understanding passed between them. "Then there's nothing more to say," Leo said. "The honor of this family is not lightly given."