"He's lucky. He's very lucky. I know that's an odd word to be using at this point in time... but we could have lost him."
"So... when can we see him?"
"A few of you can see him now, but only briefly. And I must warn you... it's going to be difficult. He's very pale, and... well, he's been through a lot. And we have to keep a very close eye on the incision... we're not sure how it'll heal."
"You're not sure if it'll heal at all, are you?"
The surgeon's eyes meet Donatello's. "No. We're not. We're hoping-- but we can't be sure."
"What will you do if it doesn't?"
"We've thought of a few possiblities. But we're not going to make a decision until we see how he's healing."
They won't let the kids in alone; April takes Ookami in first.
By the time they'd let her see Casey, it had all been over, she'd never seen what had happened, what they'd done to him...
The light is dim here, but as she gets more used to it she can make out the tubes leading to and from his body, from machine to machine...
he's so pale he's almost white, sickly and weak-looking under the fluorescent light.
They told us he'd look pale, she reminds herself.
"...daddy," Ookami says very softly, and Raph opens his eyes, turns his head toward the sound.
She thinks she can see a flicker of recognition in the staring, drugged eyes, but she's not sure.
But he moves his hand, awkwardly, and Ookami seizes it, grips it tightly.
April walks around the bed and takes Raph's other hand; his grip is disconcerting, a tight pressure that's not tight at all... he's weak, God, he's so weak...
They stay for the fifteen minutes, and let Leo and Carlos go in. April takes Leo's shoulder before they go through the doors.
"He looks terrible," April whispers. "Worse... worse than you imagine. Like a zombie..."
Leo's face is tight; he nods at her.
Ookami starts crying as the doors close, and April holds her tightly as she sobs into her shoulder, being strong for her, needing someone to be strong for...
Leo and Carlos come out silently, Leo's arm around the boy; Carlos is taller than he is now, a young man, but Leo's still clearly the adult, and Carlos is almost leaning on him for support...
They've staked out their own corner of the waiting room, as they did last time with Mike. Leo guides Carlos to the chair next to Ookami; he sits and puts his arm around her shoulders. She turns his face into his chest, and they sit, Ookami sobbing soundlessly into his shoulder.
Don is tapping a cigarette pack against his fingers. Mike regards him quietly.
Don catches his glance. "What?"
Mike lifts his eyebrows.
"I'm quitting, okay? Leave me this bad habit... for a little while at least."
"You sure you're not..."
"Didn't touch one the whole retreat..."
"All right..."
"Least I've kept in shape," he murmurs.
"I'm in shape," Mike says defensively.
"Yeah? Round, or oval?"
"Cut it out," Maureen snaps. "Both of you."
They're silent for a minute.
"You're at risk more than you thought," she says, "the doctor said... you're all at risk..."
"Yeah." Mike's voice is flat. "We know."
"What's normal blood pressure for humans," Don says darkly, "appears to be too high for mutant turtles."
"'You'd all better take extra precautions,'" Leo quotes. "Which would be easier to do if we knew what constituted a high cholesterol level for us, or what our blood pressure would be if it were normal..."
"Or anything useful at all," Don adds.
"They told you to quit," Leo says, nodding at the cigarettes in Don's hands. Mike laughs.
"We've discussed that," Maureen tells him. "At length."
Don flips the pack over in his hands. "The kids gonna be okay?"
Leo shrugs. "Wish I knew."
Mike purses his lips. "Should Ookami stay with us tonight?"
"I'll ask her," Leo says, moving to get up.
"Let me." Mike beats him to his feet. If you didn't know the way he used to move, you might not even notice the prosthetic.
"No, I do not have a comment. Look, I'm not a member of the family, okay? As soon as I have something-- yes, I know what's been happening, but I fail to see--"
"Richard?"
Richard, Raph's former broker and now... well, Leo's not honestly sure if a job description exists for what he is now-- part business consultant, part personal assistant, part right-hand man-- rounds the corner, snaps the phone shut and nods at him.
"I don't know why I bother hanging up," he says to Leo, "every time I do--" He snaps the phone open again. "Friedman." Rolls his eyes. "No, I don't have a public statement--"
Leo puts a finger up.
"Hold on."
"He's had heart surgery... he's stable. Expected to recover." Leo thinks for a second. "The family requests that no personal visits be made until he's more fully recovered."
"Cards? Flowers?"
Leo shakes his head. "Don't tell them the hospital."
Richard nods. "Right... consider yourself lucky," he tells the phone, "the family's just made a statement..." He disappears again, and Leo gets up, moves to the TV, turns it on, switches to one of the financial channels.
"You don't think--" Maureen starts.
"...markets have been unstable today, reportedly due to the uncertain medical condition of one of Wall Streets's top investors..."
"--is that what he is?"
"Looking that way." Don shoves the cigarettes back in his pocket. "How long you think it'll take?"
"You really think--"
"Watch," Don tells her.
"He never..."
"Why would he?" Mike asks.
"The things he needs to prove," Leo says softly, "aren't about that."
Richard comes back around the corner. "Yeah... that's our final statement for the day. Well have another one in the morning... yes, before the friggin' Dow opens. Yeah-- you can have an exclusive, okay? Be the asshole who saves the market, okay? Look, I'm shutting my phone off now, okay?" He snaps it closed, pushes a button. "How is he?" he asks Leo.
"Really?"
"What we said," Leo says, sitting back down. "Bypass surgery, two arteries. He looks like shit, but they tell us he's supposed to..."
"Yeah," Richard says, grabbing a chair and straddling it. "When my mom had surgery... God." He shakes his head.
"Your mom had bypass surgery?" Carlos, who's been listening in.
"Yeah," Richard turns to him, kneels down, putting his weight on his heels. "'Bout ten years ago."
"She OK?"
"Yeah. She didn't have a heart attack-- she was just having trouble-- and it helped her a lot."
"But... he was fine. At least... we thought he was..."
"I know... sometimes this stuff can build up without anyone noticing." He rocks back, catching Ookami's eye for a second before she looks away. "You guys had lunch?"
"Lunch?" Maureen says. "What's that?"
"Let me get you guys something." He gets up.
"I don't think I--" Maureen starts, and the rest nod.
"Let me get you something anyway," he says. "Then you can decide if you've got appetites. Anyone want a walk?"
Carlos gets up and goes with him.
"Good guy," Don says, as they watch them leave.
"How'd Raph find him?"
"He was his broker. And he just... you know. Started doing more."
"Hey," Leo says. "It's going up."
"What?"
"Dow, Nasdaq... whole ball of wax..."
"Have to remember to tell him."
"Yeah."
April's cell phone rings, and she pulls it out. "Bob?"
She looks up at the clock, frowns. "Hi... yeah, I know... I'm supposed to be there... I'm sorry, my friend had a heart attack-- he didn't even get out of surgery that long ago-- I know, I should have called, but we weren't even sure he was going to make it..." She frowns. "Look, I hardly even know you-- I know, but... look, I apologize, but... my priorities? Are you kidding?"
Don tries to stop listening, but her voice is getting louder.
"No... you're out of your mind. If you think a lunch date with a guy I hardly know should be more important than a friend who might be dying, then you probably ought to get out of the eighteenth century."
She glances up and realizes that half the waiting room's staring at her.
"Whaddya know," she says dryly as she clicks the phone closed, "he hung up."
Don gets up, walks over to her, sits down, puts his hand on her arm. She puts her hand on his, squeezes his fingers.
"He'll be fine, right?"
"Yeah," Don says. "He'll be okay. He's a fighter."
"You can say that again."
"I'm sorry, April."
She looks at him for a second. "What, for that?"
"For everything. For... you know."
She doesn't look at him. She remembers John, John who was cute and funny and who, she realized, wouldn't drink out of a glass after one of the guys had touched it.
"Keeps the jerks away, I guess... I mean... might have taken me two, three dates to find out what a creep he was, right?"
Don squeezes her arm.
"It's okay."
"You shouldn't have to..."
"No. But you shouldn't have to put up with this crap either. And you do every day."
They both look at the opposite wall for a minute.
When she smiles, it's bitter. "At least this time it wasn't because you guys were turtles..."
It wasn't as bad as it could have been, she tells herself that night when she gets into bed.
Remembering Casey... losing him... it feels like the edges of that wound will always be fresh, especially nights like this... the pain really doesn't go away, not that much, but... it becomes part of you. It fades by its familiarity.
She's just glad she's not losing someone else.
You're executrix, he'd said. You don't have to worry, never have to worry...
April stares up at the bedroom ceiling. It needs painting.
Don't leave me...
He'd been someone different then, his defenses down, vulnerable, scared.
And she'd seen it in his face...
Why hadn't she realized?
Please, April...
She gets up. Stupid to think she'd sleep tonight anyway...
God, how long had it been right in front of her?
She pauses in the bathroom, then picks up the day's clothes, puts them on again. She checks in on the girls-- in their beds, if not asleep-- goes out, walks down the hall, tells the guys to keep an eye on them.
And she goes down to the car and heads to the hospital.
She's halfway there, waiting at a light, when it hits her:
Casey'd known.
He'd known all along...
And he'd tried so hard to make her be kind to him... because he was Raph's friend and because...
Because he'd known how much it mattered to him...
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The light changes and somebody honks at her before she snaps out of it and starts driving again.
Morning light through the window; he wonders what time it is.
The first night, he'd woken up enough for them to tell him what happened; he thinks it was about three am. They told him what was next. And then they'd given him more meds and he'd sunk under again.
So tired, so weak... blindingly, numbingly weak.
They give you a pillow to hold so you can cough. Coughing's important. Coughing's vital.
It's all Raph can do to clutch the damn thing to his chest.
Light, dark, numbness, pain... and the second day, or maybe it was the first, they made him get up and walk. He walks more each day. The walks are part of the blur.
And Mike. And Don. And Leo.
And his children, holding his hand, as if just squeezing it tightly enough will keep him there.
And Sean, once, dragged by his sister, and Raph knew just looking at his face that it's over, that he'll never touch him again.
Maureen had warned him, once, about Sean. That losing her parents had made her cling through everything; that losing his had made him run at the slightest sign of adversity.
He hadn't cared, then; he isn't sure he cares now.
And April, silent mostly, reading, working at her laptop... she was there, when he woke up. Three am he'd woken up, that first night, and she was there...
He wants to thank her-- to say something at least-- and ends up coughing up a lungful of phelgm instead.
But that's good, right?
Right...
"You okay?"
"... yeah. Shit..."
"Hurts?"
"Yeah."
"You want some water?"
"Yeah."
She leans over and pours the water into his styrofoam cup. Makes the water taste like styrofoam, but at least it's wet.
"Wouldn't wanna sneak out and get me a beer, huh?"
She shakes her head, smiling.
He smiles back at her. "Worth a try..."
"You want to walk?"
He shakes his head. "Sleep."
She nods at him and he goes back under.
Don is finishing a kata when he hears the footsteps behind him; uneven weight. Must be Michaelangelo.
"What are you doing here?"
"Thought I'd brush up."
Something about the way he says it... "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Figured Raph'd need me."
"Raph?"
"You know what it's gonna be like... what he'll be like. They told us. Somebody's gotta spar with him."
Donatello says nothing, but turns to face him, gives him a long, cold look.
"Guess it's kind of good to be needed again, huh?"
"You know," Don says finally, "he's not the only one who's needed you."
Mike walks over to the weapons, takes a bokken from the shelf.
Don starts another kata, is halfway through it when he hears Mike say, "You're right."
"You don't wanna do it, Mike. You don't want to spend the rest of your life hearing everything you could have said. Thinking about everything you could've done."
"Yeah. I know." He stretches with the sword, his body remembering the moves before his mind does.
"I wanted to say something, but... I was just too pissed off at you, Mike. I was sitting there watching you piss away everything I lost... everything I never could've had... I know it's been hard on you, but... dammit, Mike. They love you. They need you."
"I know." The wooden sword swings with Mike's old grace, but slowly, and his body moves haltingly. The extra weight he's gained since he stopped training's getting in the way, too.
"I'll spar with you when you're up to it."
"Could be a while."
"I know."
"April might be able to spar with you."
Mike nods at him.
"She'll kick your ass."
Mike nods again.
They practice for a while in silence, Don watching Mike get used to the prosthetic. He's still too conscious of it, though. He'll have to get knocked down a couple times before he can stop thinking about it, probably.
"Don?"
"Yeah?"
"You know... since we're talking about this kind of stuff... you've gotta let him go."
Don shakes his head. "No, I don't."
"He's gone, Don..."
"Yeah. I know. Something about the empty bed gives it away."
"He wouldn't want you to be alone."
"He's dead. He lost his vote."
"What about that Noah guy?"
Don swings the bo over his head, remembering how much more graceful Mike is as a fighter. "Noah keeps waiting for the handsome prince to kiss me and turn me back into a human."
"Why are you going out with him, then?"
"He's cute. He's fun. He's as good as any of the other guys waiting for the handsome prince."
"Don..."
"Byron was a hard act to follow, Mike. At least give me that."
"Yeah. I'll give you that." He swings the bokken slowly. "Damn, I'm rusty--"
Don shoots him a look.
"Yeah. I know.
"Felt so useless lately-- haven't even been able to write much... wish Scott was still around here."
"Like he'd be allowed to talk to you."
"You think it's gotten that bad?"
"I heard from Ben last week. Scott's in the hospital."
"Chris didn't--"
"Ben says he fell down the stairs," Don says hollowly.
"God..."
"I never trusted him. I never trusted him... but I didn't think..."
"Nobody does anything?"
Don shrugs his shoulders, gives up on the kata. "I don't know, Mike. I'm not out there. And... I don't know. I get it all through Ben, so I gotta figure it out myself... but what I think... I think it's the classic pattern, you know? Isolate someone, limit their contact with friends, don't let them make new ones... then there's no one there to know, so of course no one does anything... I try to talk to Ben, but he doesn't want to admit there's anything wrong. They're his parents, I'm sure he tells himself there isn't anything wrong..."
"How old is he?"
"Ookami's age."
"Poor kid."
Don nods. "All we went through when we grew up... at least we missed out on that."
"Not that Splinter wouldn't smack us when we got outa line..."
"Heh heh..." Don starts the kata again. "Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad... I'm glad you're back here. I... I kinda missed you kicking my ass."
"Yeah, Don. I did too."
--end chapter seven--
On to Chapter Eight