TMNT: Ricochet ▶ON HOLD (till gets more reads, votes and comments)◀

Chapter 1

Someone retches beside him, and he hardly has to look to know it's Mikey. On the next bed over, he's got his face half-buried in a metal bucket, his body

lurching with every heave.

"Mikey?"

His brother's blue eyes are swollen and bloodshot. Tear stains streak his face. A trail of saliva dangles from his mouth until he spits, gathering his composure just in time to start a new wave of tears.

"Donny!" He sobs, and in an instant Don's stumbling on jelly-legs, yelping at the sickening crunch of shifting bone. But he grits his teeth and shakily wraps his good arm around his brother's shoulders. The bucket gets shoved away, and Mikey wraps his middle in a bear hug that crushes him more than a little. But it feels good. Every part of him is cold, shaking, disjointed, and Mikey is a warm anchor that still doesn't feel quite real. The world is falling to pieces around them, but they're alive. They're alive.

"Careful," he chokes around the lump in his throat, his head swimming as Mike accidentally brushes his bad arm. The pain is almost enough to make him pass out. "My arm..."

Mike shifts, but otherwise barely seems to hear him, still trying to talk to him between shuddering breaths.

"They... they took...," he starts, takes a deep breath then lets the rest tumble out. "They took Master Splinter! They said something about his heart... They had to put him in one of those freaky tank things again! It's because he got shocked, Don! You saw it, right?"

In his brother's voice, Don can hear the same feverish delirium. All he can do is hold onto him, weakly running his good hand in slow patterns across his shell, trying to clear his own mind and piece together what's happening.

Things are bad. Leo's bleeding out. Raph might stop breathing, and Master Splinter might very well be dead already... It takes everything in his will to stay where he is, resist the urge to charge his way into the fray and do everything he can to help save his brothers. But he doesn't know what he's doing. His mind is reeling and his body refuses to cooperate. He wishes he could do something. He has to do something.

"They're gonna die, aren't they?" Mikey asks miserably. The look in his eyes sends a hot lance through Don's stomach. He can't find the words to answer.

"Glurin! If they're stable, I need the remaining turtles moved to Med Bay Three!"

The order barely registers in Don's mind until an utrom in a metal exosuit is trying to gently break them apart. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to physically lash out. And judging by the look on Mikey's face, he's not much better off. Their nerveshave been frayed to nothing, they've been as close to death as anyone ever has been, and their brothers are inching their way closer every second. Nothing can drag them away.

"Please," the utrom begins again in a placating tone, not missing the hostility in Don's expression. "You must return to your station so we can help your brothers."

He won't lash out physically. Not after these people just saved their lives. But under pressure, Donatello's tongue is as sharp as any weapon. "We almost died on that ship! To save your planet!" He snaps with no small hint of hysteria, the pain shooting through his arm only spurring him on. "Now I'm about to lose my father and my brothers. I'm not leaving them."

"Donatello, please," he tries again, mechanical arms held open in a peaceful gesture. "We need to prep your brothers for surgery. The infirmary needs to be cleared for decontamination."

Surgery. The word sparks nightmare images of bone saws and rusty scalpel blades. If he wasn't panicking before, he certainly is now.

"What?"

"No!"

Mike's eyes are wide as saucers. His jaw practically hits the floor. But Don is still up and fighting. There's no way he will ever let someone touch any of his brothers with a scalpel blade.

Before Glurin can answer, another utrom swoops in to intercept."Your brothers are in need of immediate surgery or they will die. Now please! We need you to evacuate the area."

The second Utrom's sharp tone snuffs the anger right out of him. The Utroms wouldn't hurt them. He knows that. These were the people Master Yoshi swore his life to protect, the people who had saved Master Splinter's life once before. The people who, barely minutes ago, gave his entire family a second chance. They were practically family. And as much as that deep-seated fear of dissection screams at him from the darkest corners of his mind, he knows he has to trust them.

"Don..." Mike starts, his voice quavering, half fear and half surrender.

"Okay," he breathes, casting a sidelong look at the chaos surrounding his remaining brothers. "But you have to tell me everything."

Glurin only nods his robotic head hurriedly, the other Utrom rushing back to the bloody war to save their dying brothers. For now, it has to be enough.