*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.
*Author's Notes: Chapter 17 of 'Lost in the Fight' is here and I have to warn you in advance that this chapter is rather . . . painful.
A tremendous thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, vote on, and comment on this story. Also, thank you so much to my followers. =}
As always, please continue to vote and/or comment on this story if you like it. I always appreciate the feedback. Thank you very much for reading. ;) CJ
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Chapter 17 - An Unhappy Reunion
There was the sound of a vehicle, and then . . .
"Sensei! SENSEI!"
Master Splinter had been sitting cross-legged before the Shinto tree in the Dojo, lost in a deep, meditative trance, when he had first heard his sons' approach.
Michelangelo, as to be expected, had been the loudest of the four boys, making his presence and distress known well before any of them had actually stepped foot inside of the lair. As Master Splinter's children drew nearer, the sound of two additional voices came through. The fact that one voice was still unaccounted for in all of the commotion was most disconcerting to him and caused his face to pull down into the longest of frowns. He perked up his ears, listening attentively for the missing voice, but much to his dismay, it remained absent from the ruckus. What he instead heard was the familiar sound of the subway turnstiles spinning, indicating that his sons had just entered the main living space of the lair.
Within a matter of seconds, Master Splinter had nimbly sprung up from his Lotus position and darted into the main room where his sons were now standing. Well, most of his sons were standing. One son was not and the discovery made his heart sink into the furthest depths of his stomach.
While he willed himself to control both his breathing and emotions, Master Splinter's steely eyes began to study his four boys.
Michelangelo was currently standing several feet in front of his three brothers. His bright eyes were wide with panic as he peered up at his father. Master Splinter's presence normally had a calming effect on the youngest turtle, but not this time. Michelangelo was worked up into such a tizzy, that even his father's entrance did not bring him any sense of peace. The orange-masked ninja was fidgeting and squirming about as though there were ants in his shell.
Raphael, on the other hand, was eerily still. The most temperamental of Splinter's children was standing very near to his oldest brother, in a protective manner, presumably shielding the precious cargo that Leonardo was carrying. There was something quite curious about Raphael's demeanor that Master Splinter instantly picked up on. His second oldest son looked unusually distraught and his eyes were red, presumably from crying. Gone was the anger that typically resided within those fiery, emerald orbs.
Leonardo's eyes were red as well, most likely for the very same reason as Raphael's were. There was no doubt in Master Splinter's mind that his two oldest sons had been crying because of the unconscious turtle being cradled like an infant in Leonardo's arms.
The vision made Master Splinter's breath catch in his rapidly constricting throat. Even from the dozen feet spanning between them, Splinter could see the grave condition that his second youngest son was in and he suddenly found himself struggling to rein in his own distress.
"My sons, what has happened?" Master Splinter asked, moving closer to his children so that he could better assess their conditions. His three sons that were standing before him did not appear to have any life-threatening injuries, but it was difficult to be sure when they were all encased in such a heavy coating of filth and blood. The sight of so much blood made the mutant rat cringe with dread, for he was not sure if the blood covering their bodies was their own, their enemy's, or their seriously injured brother's.
From what Master Splinter could see through the thick grime, his conscious sons had numerous freshly acquired wounds. Some of which probably required first aid, or, at the very least, should be cleaned thoroughly to prevent possible infection. Namely, Raphael, who looked as though something quite large had dragged its claws across the scutes of his plastron. However, Master Splinter was most certain that his three less-injured sons would flat-out refuse any kind of medical treatment at this point. Their top priority would be Donatello, as was his. Now that he was only inches away from his children, he could see the awful condition that his second youngest son was in. Master Splinter reached out a paw and touched the side of Donatello's badly beaten face just as his other sons began to provide him with details of what had led to this.
"We found Donnie chained up in an abandoned warehouse, right where the T-phone had indicated he was. He had been captured by Tiger Claw and this mutated bear creature that called himself Grizzgore. He was in awful shape when we found him, Sensei. His leg was broken and they stabbed him in the shoulder." Leo managed to sound slightly calmer than he felt. On the inside, his stomach was all tied up in knots and his lungs felt as though they were closing up on him.
"They . . . they stabbed him with his own weapon, Sensei. It went straight through him. That's how his shell got broke . . . and then . . . then they strung him up by the arms and just left him hanging there, bleeding and broken," Raphael added, barely able to summon the air needed to support his voice. Each word had been a challenge to get out. Surprisingly, there was no rage in his tone, only misery.
When Raph paused to collect himself, Leonardo decided to continue where his immediate younger brother had left off.
"Then, the bear mutant attacked us and created a distraction so Tiger Claw could try to take off with Donnie. When I tried to stop Tiger Claw, Donnie . . . he was shocked with some new weapon that Baxter Stockman invented. His heart stopped and he . . . he quit breathing. We had to give him CPR for what felt like forever. We . . . we almost lost him. If not for Mikey – " Leonardo was unable to finish his thoughts aloud. He had tried so hard to maintain his composure as he spoke, but he just couldn't. The terrible memory of his brother coming so very close to death was still vivid in his mind and just talking about it made him feel like he was reliving it all over again.
Master Splinter shuddered in disgust over what his sons had just told him, but seconds later, he abruptly shifted from conversation mode into action mode.
"Raphael, get the cot set up in the laboratory! Hurry!"
The hotheaded turtle did not hesitate follow his father's command, almost instantaneously disappearing from view in true ninja fashion.
Though he could not explain it, having his father firmly take charge of the situation and tell him what to do had brought Raph a strange sense of relief. It was as if a weight had just been lifted off of his shoulders, which made him feel like a bit of a hypocrite, since whenever Leo took charge of a situation and got all bossy, Raph's reaction was to glare daggers and tell his older brother to get off his back.
"Michelangelo, please fetch me several bowls of warm water, and then, gather as many clean washcloths and hand towels as you can carry." As Master Splinter spoke to Michelangelo, he used a much softer tone than he had with Raphael. Not because he cared for one child more than the other, but because he knew that his youngest son was far more vulnerable and immature than his second oldest son. When addressing Michelangelo after something traumatic had occurred, it required one to use a gentler approach.
Michelangelo had oftentimes expressed his disapproval of being 'babied' and treated differently than his brothers whenever something bad happened, but in this instance, the youngest turtle did not seem to mind. In response to Master Splinter's request, Michelangelo vigorously nodded his head, seemingly appreciative of being allowed to help with something. He then sprinted towards the kitchen to acquire the water that his father had asked him for, happy to be doing anything that might make his wounded big brother feel better.
"Leonardo, carry your brother to the laboratory," Master Splinter instructed in his calm voice, but there was underlying urgency in his words that instantly made the oldest turtle tense up.
"Hai, Sensei." Leonardo bowed his head in what appeared to be an act of deference, but it was really just to glance down at his still unconscious little brother. Ever since they had left the rooftop of the warehouse, Leonardo had found himself checking on Donnie every thirty seconds or so, scared out of his mind that his genius brother would stop breathing again. In fact, Leo's concern for his wounded brother was so profound, he had even elected to let Mikey drive the Shellraiser home so that he could stay in the back of the vehicle with Donnie. This was something that the leader in blue now deeply regretted. Never again would he make such a grievous err in judgment.
While Mikey had driven the Shellraiser like he had been playing some kind of simulated racing game, Leo and Raph had tried as best they could to administer first aid to Donnie's injuries. Their youngest brother's fondness for taking corners up on two wheels had made it virtually impossible for the two oldest turtles to keep steady and the end result was a rather sloppy patch job that Donnie would have been absolutely mortified by. At least Leo and Raph had somehow managed to slow the bleeding down. They had also managed to splint their genius brother's leg by using the bloodied and broken half of Donnie's bo-staff to immobilize his busted limb. As disturbing as it had been to use the very weapon that had critically wounded their brother, they had been forced to do so for lack of a better option.
Peering down at Donnie again, Leo grimaced at the sight of his and Raph's inferior attempt to stabilize their injured brother. Donatello would have never provided any of them with such poor treatment. Even amidst all of the jostling and chaos, he probably would have made a cast out of some weird combination of things, like windshield washer fluid, a couple sticks of gum, and one of the Shellraiser's seat covers. Then, he would have utilized the remaining components of the dismantled seat – tossing in some spare parts along the way – to construct a high-performance wheelchair, complete with adjustable tilt seating, powerlift, thrusters, and built-in cup holders. That's just the way that Donnie was, always tweaking old things and inventing new ones. Always trying to make their lives better, but they hadn't appreciated him. Not nearly enough. Heck, even the Shredder himself was aware that Donatello was exceptionally gifted and brilliant, but yet, his own brothers had taken him for granted all this time, assuming that he would always be there to fix every little thing.
But now, Donnie's three brothers were faced with the horrible reality that their genius brother may not always be there, all because they didn't know how to fix him . . .
Quickening his footsteps to match the tempo of his racing heart, Leonardo entered the laboratory and gently lowered his brother's frail body down onto the heavy duty, hospital cot that Raph had already set up. Glancing around the lab, Leo saw that his hotheaded brother was currently helping Master Splinter roll in the numerous portable cabinets that Donatello stored the majority of their various medical supplies in. It was standard protocol whenever one of them was seriously injured or ill to set up a makeshift infirmary in the genius turtle's lab. Of course, it was normally Donnie who was the one in charge of setting everything up.
As Raphael and Master Splinter continued to turn the lab into a sickbay, Leonardo veered his attention back on Donnie and began to carefully remove the pieces of his wounded brother's gear that he hadn't already removed on the way back to the lair. There may have been hidden injuries underneath the attire, not to mention it was filthy.
Once the last of Donnie's gear had been stripped away, Leonardo set it aside on a nearby table and quickly returned to his brother's side. The oldest turtle then found himself helplessly staring down at his brother's battered body and he could feel the immense guilt gnawing away at his insides. His badly injured brother deserved far better treatment than what they were capable of giving him. If it would have been anyone else lying there unconscious on that cot, Donatello would have known exactly what do. He would not rest until they were fully healed and good as new.
A heavy exhale deflated out of Leo.
It wasn't right that Donnie was the one lying there hurt. He was the one who had long taken care of them, no matter what. He was their true protector. Not Master Splinter with his infinite wisdom. Not Raph with his brute strength. Not Mikey with his eternal optimism. Not even Leo with his passionate leadership. It was Donnie who ultimately kept them all safe and sound.
Leo kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. Why had it taken him so long to see how invaluable Donnie truly was to the family? Why hadn't he seen that his genius brother had always been the strongest of them all? He was the one that they had come to rely on whenever any of them needed something. When something was broken, when something needed solving, when something needed inventing, when someone needed advice, when someone needed a shoulder to lean on, when someone was injured or sick – it was Donnie that they went to and he never once asked them for anything in return. Now, it was Donnie who needed something from them and it scared Leo to no end that they could lose him because his injuries may be beyond their meager medical capabilities.
Unfortunately, what Donatello needed right now was Donatello, but obviously, that wasn't an option. Still, that wasn't going to stop Leo from doing everything in his power to save his little brother. He would not make the mistake of giving up on Donnie again.
Leonardo swept his fingertips across the genius turtle's forehead and winced at the heat that he felt radiating from his brother's skin. Reaching down and taking his injured sibling's flaccid hand in his, Leonardo turned Donnie's palm up so that he could see the burn mark that the shock gun had branded into his little brother's flesh. Through stinging tears, the turtle in blue stared down at the raw-looking raised welts and small blisters that dotted the inside of his brother's hand. Leo then noticed that there was a rather nasty burn mark on Donatello's neck that looked eerily similar to the electrical burns on his palm.
It was at that point that the oldest turtle realized that his gentlest brother had been shocked by the very same weapon prior to the incident on the roof. In other words, Donnie had already discovered firsthand how painful and potentially deadly the weapon was, and still, he had willingly taken the hit for his oldest brother. Leo now knew that his little brother had put himself through agony all over again just to save him.
The revelation filled Leo with that much more determination to do whatever it took to save his brother's life.
"I've got the water, Sensei!" Michelangelo chirped out, and an instant later, he burst through the open lab doors. As he entered, he did his best not to slosh too much water out of the three large bowls carefully balanced in his arms.
"Excellent, my son," Master Splinter praised Michelangelo and he then motioned for his youngest child to place the bowls on the table across from the cot that Donatello was laid out on. "Now, please go and fetch the washcloths and hand towels that I asked for."
"Hai, Sensei!" Less than a half-second later, the orange-clad turtle bolted out of the laboratory as though it was on fire.
Despite the bleakness of the situation, Master Splinter couldn't stop his lips from stretching into a thin smile. What Michelangelo had always lacked in focus, he had more than made up for in enthusiasm. The energy flowing through his youngest son had the capability of lighting up all of New York City.
Once Michelangelo was outside of the laboratory, Master Splinter's smile disappeared and he shifted his gaze onto Donatello's fragile form. As he approached his most intelligent son, Master Splinter could see that Donatello's eyes were still tightly closed, but there was a pained expression on his face that indicated his rest was anything but peaceful. Moving in closer, the distraught father began to study his second youngest son's many injuries, delicately pulling away the bandages that his other sons had applied so that he could inspect the wounds beneath the dressings. He noticed that Donatello's skin was not only covered in blood, but also, in a sheen of sweat. He could feel his brilliant son shivering beneath his touch, which only added to his anxiety. No doubt the physical wounds that his son had been afflicted with were of great concern to Master Splinter, as was the difficulty that he heard in his child's breathing, but it was the fever still ravaging Donatello's body that had captured his immediate attention. Fever was the body's natural response to an infection, and infections, if left untreated, could have potentially fatal consequences.
Master Splinter shuddered at the thought while he secured the bandages back around Donatello's wounds to stanch the bleeding.
"Raphael, please bring me a thermometer." As Master Splinter spoke the command, he did not remove his eyes from his broken son's body.
Nodding in compliance, Raphael rushed over to the cabinets that he had just helped his father haul into the lab and started rifling through them, not about to admit that he had no clue which actual cabinet contained the thermometers. Even though the most reckless turtle was probably the one who had spent the most time in the infirmary, other than Donnie himself, the truth was, Raph had never really paid all that much attention to the vast collection of medical supplies that his second youngest brother kept on hand.
Raph let out a raucous breath. Now that Donnie was the one lying there hurt, the temperamental turtle was having serious regrets about never bothering to pay attention when his brother was tending to his many battle wounds. Maybe if he would have, he wouldn't feel so dang useless right now.
Where the shell is it? Raph mentally growled, angry with himself for not being able to do more to help his injured brother.
While Raphael continued to unsuccessfully hunt for a thermometer, Master Splinter carried on with his examination of his second youngest son, attempting to identify the source of the fever plaguing him. That was when Leonardo noticed the deep frown creasing itself into Master Splinter's face, making his father appear years older than only moments before.
"Sensei?" The eldest son breathed out the Japanese term barely loud enough for anyone to hear, but it was audible enough to make Master Splinter look up. As soon as his master's gaze met his own, it became painfully clear to Leonardo that there was something troubling his father that went much deeper than just Donatello's physical injuries and that truly frightened the turtle in blue.
"Your brother's fever indicates that he is suffering from an infection, and in his extremely weakened condition, I fear an infection could take him from us," Master Splinter said somberly as he stepped past Raphael and made his way over to the drawer where he knew Donatello kept the digital thermometer. Splinter then reached his long, thin fingers inside of the drawer and produced the very object that his second oldest son had been frantically searching for.
During his unproductive efforts to find a thermometer, Raphael had strewn half of the cabinet contents across the floor of the infirmary.
Glancing down at the mess that his most temperamental son had made, Master Splinter furrowed his brow, and then, cast a firm look at Raphael, as though wordlessly accusing him of something.
There was a lesson to be learned here, and there was no doubt in Raph's mind that his father would make sure he painfully understood that lesson . . . once Donatello was out of danger.
Embarrassed beyond words, Raphael's cheeks flushed the same vivid color as his mask and he quickly started shoving items back inside of the storage cabinets. When his genius brother woke up, he was going to be seriously ticked off at him for putting everything back in the wrong order, but that would be fine by Raph, so long as it meant that Donnie was awake.
Ignoring the racket that Raphael was causing behind him, Master Splinter placed the tip of the digital thermometer underneath his injured son's tongue and watched on nervously as the readout on the device climbed to a disturbing height.
"One hundred four degrees. That is much too high. We must get Donatello's temperature down right away. Leonardo, could you please show Raphael where the fever reducer is?" There was a not-so-subtle hint of sarcasm in Master Splinter's stern voice that made the hotheaded turtle cringe in his shell, for he was well aware that his father was mocking him.
As Leonardo went to retrieve the fever medication, Master Splinter left the infirmary without a word. He soon returned with a mortar and pestle, as well as a cup of slightly warm tea that he had prepared earlier in the evening. He set the cup of tea down for the time being in order to free up a paw to take a bottle of pills from his oldest son. Quickly opening up the container that Leonardo had just handed him, Master Splinter placed the proper dosage of the medicine into the bottom of the hardwood mortar and used the pestle to grind up the capsules until they were a fine powder. He then poured the powder into the tea and swirled the cup around to mix the medicine in.
"Help me lift up your brother," Master Splinter said, signaling for his two oldest sons to come closer.
Without a moment's hesitation, Leonardo and Raphael moved on either side of Donatello and cautiously raised their injured brother into a semi-upright position, being mindful of his many injuries as they did so.
While Leonardo and Raphael held up their brother's body, their father gently pried Donatello's mouth open and pressed the rim of the cup against the wounded turtle's bottom lip. Master Splinter then tipped the cup up just high enough so that the tea would slowly trickle down Donatello's throat. Splinter breathed out a sigh of relief when the medicine went down without choking his unconscious son.
Once the tea cup was empty, they lowered Donatello back down to the cot. That was when Mikey came scurrying into the lab with a heap of washcloths and hand towels piled so high, his family could barely see him underneath the mountain of multicolored fabric.
"This is all the clean washcloths and hand towels I could find, plus I grabbed a few socks and some bars of soap!" Michelangelo exclaimed proudly while steadying himself as best he could so as not to initiate a cotton avalanche. When he realized that he was about to drop the many items that he was carrying, he sheepishly added, "Uh, a little help here, guys."
When Raphael went to assist Michelangelo without complaining or making some kind of a snide comment, it dawned on Leonardo that his hotheaded brother must have been wigging out even more than he had initially thought. Quick-witted Raph had just missed the perfect chance to make a snarky remark about Mikey, washcloths, socks, and soap. The Raphael that Leo knew would never miss out on an easy opportunity to harass Mikey like that. Something was definitely amiss with Leo's highly cynical brother. It was just another thing for the oldest turtle to worry about . . .
"Thank you, Michelangelo." As Master Splinter expressed his gratitude, he walked over to assist Michelangelo and Raphael with placing the mound of washcloths and towels on top of the worktable next to Donatello's cluttered desk. Master Splinter then grabbed a washcloth from the stack and went to soak it in one of the bowls of water that his youngest son had brought in. He thoroughly wrung out the washcloth and placed it along Donatello's burning forehead. His injured son quietly moaned when the cool cloth made contact with his smoldering skin.
While it was a good thing that Donatello was showing response to stimuli, it only made it that much more difficult for Master Splinter to tell his sons what had to be done next.
"We are going to need to reset your brother's leg. Michelangelo, will you please retrieve a strap of leather for Donatello to bite down on? One can be found in that left cabinet drawer over there." Before continuing on with his instructions, Master Splinter paused for a moment to point in the direction of the cabinet. He did not wish to see his youngest son repeat Raphael's earlier exploits with the thermometer.
"Leonardo, I am going to need you to pull on Donatello's leg so that I can realign the fractured bones. Raphael, you will need to hold Donatello down as steady as possible. Your brother may be unconscious, but he is still able to feel pain and this is going to cause him a great deal of discomfort," Master Splinter said in a voice that was way too calm considering what he was proposing they do.
"Wait! What? No way! I'm not gonna hurt Donnie like that! Hasn't he been through enough?" Raph howled, backing away from Donnie's cot as though he was suddenly scared of it.
"Raphael, you are physically the strongest of your brothers. Donatello will need your strength to hold him still so that he does not injure himself any further. I do not wish to hurt your brother, either, but if we do not reset the bones as soon as possible, your brother could lose the use of his leg permanently." As Master Splinter explained the reasoning behind his directives, his resolute eyes remained fixed on Raphael, almost boring into him.
"No! There's gotta be another way! Can't we give him something that'll knock him out or push on some pressure point that'll make it so he doesn't feel anything? Or what about your healing mantras? Can't they do something for him?" Raphael's voice came out far shriller than normal, making his rising angst evident to everyone in the room. The red-clad turtle wasn't alone in his panic. Leonardo and Michelangelo were going through the same gut-wrenching feelings on the inside, but somehow, the two of them were managing to keep up appearances. Although seeing Raph play the emotional role that Mikey normally took on was making it that much harder for them to avoid losing it.
"Raphael, if there were any other possible way, do you think I would not do it to spare your brother the torment? I assure you that I will do all that I can to ease Donatello's suffering, but I am afraid that there is nothing I can safely do for him that will have the capability to completely eliminate the pain he will experience." There was a heavy pang of sorrow in Master Splinter's tone, for he felt as though his morals were being called into question by his own son.
After listening to his father's response, Raphael had to clamp his top teeth over his bottom lip to bite off a telltale quiver of weakness. He eventually lowered his head in defeat and moved into position next to Donatello. Once beside the cot, Raph stared down at his brainiac little brother and the hotheaded turtle's features again revealed his inner angst and endless remorse. With all of the wounds covering Donnie's body, Raph wasn't even sure where he could get a firm hold on his brother without causing him additional pain.
Needing a moment to regain his composure, Master Splinter walked away from his sons to retrieve several items that he would need for the procedure. He then returned to his second youngest child's side and took Donatello's limp hand in his.
"Donatello, I do not know if you can hear me or not, but we are going to need to reset the bones in your leg. Before doing so, I am going to give you something for the pain. If you can hear me, my son, please squeeze my hand." Master Splinter half-expected Donatello to acknowledge the heartfelt request that he had just made, but to his disappointment, his son did nothing in response to the sound of his voice.
The now-heartbroken father set Donatello's hand back down onto the cot and began to prepare his son for what had to be done. Trying desperately to stay poised, Splinter stooped over Donatello's still form and injected him with a powerful pain killer. He then used a syringe to inject a local anesthetic near the fractures in his son's leg to help numb the area. Donatello fussed a little, but remained unconscious.
After setting aside the needles, Master Splinter took the leather strap from Michelangelo's trembling hands and placed it inside of Donatello's mouth, closing his wounded son's jaw to help hold the strap in place.
"Michelangelo, I believe it would be best if you left the room."
Upon hearing what Sensei had just said to him, Michelangelo stared up at his father through big, blue eyes that shimmered with sadness.
"I – I don't want to leave Donnie! Please, he . . . he needs me!" Mikey pleaded, though not as convincingly as he had intended. A part of him wanted to stand his ground and be strong for Donnie, but another part of him wanted to run away screaming, knowing what was about to happen. They were going to hurt Donnie even more than he already was and that thought alone was too much for the youngest turtle to bear.
Sensing his baby brother's internal conflict, Raph placed a strong hand on top of Mikey's shoulder and gave it a solid squeeze.
"Mikey, you and I both know that Donnie wouldn't want you to be here for this. It's okay, little brother. You can wait right outside the door if you want. Donnie will know you're there," Raph said, trying his best to protect his baby brother. He felt as though he owed that much to his genius brother. To the younger brother that he had already failed to protect . . .
Raph knew for a fact that if Donnie was awake right now, there was no way in shell that he would ever allow Mikey to watch Master Splinter reset someone's busted leg. That's because they all knew there was no way in shell that Mikey would be able to handle something so gruesome. Heck, Raph wasn't even sure if he himself was going to be able to handle it.
Uncharacteristically at a loss for words, Michelangelo hung his head down and let out a deplorable whimper. He then reached out and lightly traced his fingertips down Donnie's forearm before turning to exit the infirmary. As he trudged away, his grief was plain to see.
Master Splinter waited until his youngest son had closed the laboratory doors, and then, he nodded grimly at his two oldest sons, indicating that it was time.
Leonardo and Raphael nodded in return and assumed their designated positions. The turtle in red hunched over Donatello's torso, using his hands, elbows and arm strength to pin his younger brother down against the cot. The leader in blue stood at the foot of the cot, readying himself to pull on Donatello's broken leg the moment that Master Splinter gave him the go ahead.
Once they were situated, Leo and Raph exchanged wary glances. Neither one of them wanted to be a part of what was about to take place. Their teary-eyed gazes then trailed down to their genius brother. The very brother that they were about to hurt . . .
Master Splinter planted himself in between his two oldest boys and leaned over the area of Donatello's leg where the swelling looked to be the worst, which signified that that was most likely where the breaks were. Hovering his paws just above his son's fractured limb, Master Splinter prepared himself, both physically and mentally. He did not want to cause his wounded son any more pain than necessary, so he would need to move the bones back into proper alignment as quickly as possible.
Drawing in a deep breath, Master Splinter took a moment to focus his thoughts, and then, he motioned for Raphael to brace himself and for Leonardo to pull.
Leo took a moment to mouth a silent apology to Donnie, and then, tugged on his little brother's leg to pull the bones apart so that Master Splinter could put them back into place.
As soon as Leonardo and Master Splinter began to move Donatello's leg, a hoarse scream of agony tore from the wounded turtle's raw throat and he began to wildly jerk and writhe against Raphael's iron grip. Though he was still unconscious, Donnie was clearly not oblivious to the searing hot pain that suddenly ripped through his entire body. His back arched up and he furiously fought against Raphael's hold with all of his strength, twisting and kicking in a violent attempt to free himself.
Raphael grunted from the exertion of trying to keep his genius brother held down against the cot. It was not the simple task that the red-clad brother had initially thought it would be. Raph had always been much stronger than Donnie, so he was a little taken aback when his thin and meek little brother – even in his injured and unconscious state – was giving him a tough time. In a strange twist of fate, the brawniest brother could barely keep the scrawniest brother's extreme thrashing under control.
"Raphael, you must hold him still!" Master Splinter needlessly reminded his second oldest son and his low voice had a cold, scolding quality to it. He regretted being harsh towards Raphael, but he could not reset the bones in Donatello's leg if he was tossing about.
"You think I'm not trying?" Raphael snorted, panting for breath as he continued his attempts to stop Donnie's bucking, but nothing seemed to be working.
"Raph! Hold him down!" Leo barked out.
A frustrated growl emitted from the turtle in red.
The hotheaded brother truly hated himself for what he was about to do, but Donnie had left him no other choice.
Up until this point, Raph had been attempting to avoid his little brother's stabbed shoulder at all cost, but now, he realized that using both shoulders was the only way that he could get a stable enough hold on his delirious brother to keep him pinned down against the cot.
As much as it broke his heart, Raph forcefully pushed his little brother down by both shoulders, causing Donnie to cry out in sheer torture. Then, the red-masked turtle had to watch on in horror as the blood started to rapidly soak through the bandages that he and Leo had earlier wrapped around Donnie's injured shoulder.
"Sorry, Donnie. I'm so sorry," Raphael kept repeating while he continued to push his hand against the gaping wound in his brother's shoulder.
Donnie sunk his teeth into the leather strap still in his mouth and his screams of agony soon diminished into a series of pained keening sounds that were somehow even more unbearable to listen to. To make matters worse, in between the keening sounds, they could all hear the awful wheezing noises that Donnie made with every breath he took.
Once Raphael had finally managed to restrict Donatello's movements, Master Splinter was able to shift and straighten his wounded son's leg until the bones went back into place. Donatello let out a sickening yelp through his clenched jaw, and then, started to whimper and wheeze in pain.
After the bones were set, Donnie's body slackened in Raph's grip, although the temperamental turtle wasn't sure if that was because his little brother was feeling less pain or if it was because he just didn't have any energy left to fight anymore.
"Quickly, Leonardo! We must splint the leg so that he cannot move it. The materials are behind you." While he spoke, Master Splinter gestured towards the necessary supplies with his head so as to maintain his hold on Donatello's leg and keep it as immobile as possible.
Leonardo hurried over to the items that Sensei had been referring to and hauled them to the cot where he and his father immediately went about splinting the leg, making extra sure that the splint was good and secure. They were both certain that they never wanted to go through an experience like that ever again.
When Leonardo and Master Splinter were finished and Donatello seemed to be out cold once more, Raphael took the opportunity to locate the nearest garbage can and promptly throw up in it, over and over again, until his stomach was empty.
Leonardo grimaced at the sound, the sight, and then, the putrid smell of Raphael vomiting. Normally, the oldest turtle wasn't a sympathetic puker, but he was feeling like making an exception to the rule. The horrid sound of Donnie screaming was still resonating in Leo's head, making his own stomach churn and threaten to purge his dinner.
When Raphael was able to stand upright again, he grabbed a towel from the pile atop Donnie's worktable and hastily wiped himself off. He then staggered back over to Donnie's side and began removing the bandages from his brother's wounded shoulder so that he could start repairing the damage that he had just done. Raph wasn't a doctor by any means, but he felt obligated to care for his brainiac brother's shoulder. Especially since he was the one who had injured it to begin with . . .
Seeing Raph hard at work inspired Leo to snatch up a handful of medical supplies, and then, he, too, went to work on taking care of Donnie. Leo started by getting his second youngest brother a new washcloth. During all of the turmoil of resetting Donatello's leg bones, the washcloth that had been draped over the genius turtle's scalding forehead had fallen to the floor. Leonardo placed a fresh, cool washcloth over Donnie's sweat-covered forehead, hoping to help bring the fever down and make his brother feel a little more comfortable.
Master Splinter watched his two oldest sons tending to their fallen brother and it brought him a tremendous sense of pride seeing how deeply his boys cared for one another, but at the same time, he felt an overwhelming sense of worry. Leonardo and Raphael were both frightfully pale and looked to be swaying on their feet, as if at any second, their legs would just give out under the weight of their shells. Even with their masks on, Master Splinter could see that his sons were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The events of the day had taken an immense toll on them and their minds and bodies required rest. Besides, they were not going to be of much help to him in the shape that they were in anyway.
"My sons, I will handle your brother's treatment from here. The two of you need to clean yourselves up and try to get some rest." Master Splinter moved towards Raphael and gently grasped one of his second oldest son's hands to stop him from removing any additional bandages from Donatello's shoulder.
"But Sensei, Donnie's not even stable yet! He needs – " Raphael tried to reason with Master Splinter, but his father simply held up a paw to stop him.
Looking over at his oldest son, Master Splinter could also see an impending objection hanging from Leonardo's lips.
"I ask that you not disobey me on this, my sons. I know you both want to help your brother, but right now, the best thing you can do for Donatello is to take care of yourselves. That is what Donatello would want. And neither of you will be able to do him any good if you are to fall ill as well. I will tend to Donatello's wounds and you are to get cleaned up and go right to bed. Itte!" Master Splinter ordered in a firm yet softhearted tone.
"With all due respect, Sensei, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to rest until I know that Donnie is gonna be okay." It was not typical of Leonardo to directly question Master Splinter's orders, but his need to help his brother presently outweighed his need to be respectful of his father's commands.
"Master Splinter, why do I get the feeling that there's something you're not telling us here?" Leonardo asked in a bolder voice than anticipated.
Master Splinter sighed before saying, "My sons, Donatello's shoulder injury is very grave. It was not treated properly and is at a high risk for infection. I will need to cut the wound open in order to clean it and remove the burned and badly damaged tissue." Splinter's face bore a deep frown that spoke volumes. He then began to softly pet his second youngest son's head as he continued to speak. "Believe me when I tell you that it will not be a pleasant procedure. I am asking you boys as your father to please leave the laboratory. I do not wish for you to see this, nor would Donatello. I promise to let you know if your brother's condition changes or if I need any additional assistance. You have my word."
Though Leonardo and Raphael wanted to stay with Donatello, they could see the anguish burning in their father's dark eyes. He was only trying to protect them from having to watch their wounded brother suffer any further, and truth be told, the two oldest brothers were not sure how much more they could handle. Both of them felt as though they were on the brink of collapsing.
Taking one last look at their wounded little brother, Leo and Raph reluctantly obliged their father and left the lab, but they both couldn't shake the feeling that their father was still hiding something from them.
Something very, very bad . . .
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To be continued . . .
*Author's Notes: Ouch! This chapter hurt to write. I hope you liked it.
Once again, please continue to vote and/or comment on 'Lost in the Fight' if you like it. Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day! ;) CJ