i_speak_softly | Twenty-second Theory [Voice/Action]

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Twenty-second Theory [Voice/Action]

((Forward-dated to tomorrow morning. Or whenever the draftees get sent back from the battle. Follows from this.))

[Donatello opens his eyes, and there's color. He's in his apartment again.

Raph is beside him, still in the deathlike sleep of torpor. The bandages on his wing are a little reddened with blood.

And Don feels cold. He no longer has a button for requesting medical supplies; he hasn't yet learned to use healing magic.

But he knows someone who can use it, and while his shell-cells may not have followed him back from the battlefield, his journal is lying within reach.

He can't be bothered to filter.]

Isamu... I need your help.

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Yes. [He rubs Raph's ankle, distractedly, while looking at the bandaged wing.] Will it really grow back? We heal quickly, but - not like that...

I dunno, dude. He'd know better than me. [Hopefully not from first-hand experience, though...]

You can have him look at it when he gets here if you want.

[It's only after taking Naoki a little bit to grab as much medical supplies he needs (however much they might end up needing) from the clinic. He makes his way into C6 and toward the room.]

[Don turns, reaching reflexively for a bo staff that isn't there.

But it's only Naoki.

He kneels again, glancing from Isamu's friend to his prone brother, silently inviting him to give whatever help he can.]

Get over here, man. [Isamu motions to Naoki without looking away from Raph's injury.]

What do you think about this?

[Naoki makes his way over to Isamu, lowering into a crouch next to him, putting the supplies on the floor. He leans forward, yellow eyes narrowed and scanning.]

...It's been sliced off at the bone. It's already off--it's impossible for it to heal like this. [He glances over at Isamu.] If it's going to regrow, this should... [He stops. He doesn't want to say 'come off'.]

[Flatly. He already knows how that sentence is going to end.] Should what?

[Isamu groans.] I was so hoping you wouldn't say that.

Sorry... [Naoki shakes his head slightly, looking down.] But it should be removed.

[Deep breath, Don. You knew that was coming.] Okay. I - I'll do it.

You may want a tool - a blade of some sort. Might as well make the separation as clean as possible.

[For goodness sakes, Isamu, do you think he's going to tear it off with his bare hands?

He'll ignore that comment.]

I need - a scalpel. A bone saw. A cauterizer. And - [General anaesthetic? On the one hand, he doesn't want to run the risk that a Turtle can be roused from his torpor, but on the other hand, this is not a good time to be adding artificial depressants to Raph's system.] Restraints.

[Naoki's eyes switch to the medical supplies he brought with him. He drags the bag closer, pushes it toward Donatello. He hadn't even looked at half the things (wasn't sure what a few were) he'd grabbed, snatched anything that he thought could be useful.]

[He was just trying to look like he knew what he was doing. ;;

Instead, he'll step back and let Don do his thing.]

[Don sorts through the supplies, his mind already working ahead to see each step of the process.]

Naoki, go to the kitchen. Boil some water and find a clean pan.

Isamu, the closet of my workroom, there's some rope...

[Naoki nods wordlessly and moves off to the kitchen to do just that, digging through cupboards for a clean pan as he puts on water to boil.]

Closet of...? Sure. [The work room should be easy enough to locate, right? Whatever looks likes it's usually occupied by a tech wiz.

He returns shortly with the rope in question.] We should put some cloth between the ropes and his skin, right? To limit abrasions? Unless turtles skin is tough enough to do without it.

[Don doesn't answer that. He's knows you're trying to help, Isamu, but really. He's done this before.

He reaches under the bed for the folded-up blanket, and flips it open, spreading it over Raph's arms and shoulders, tucking the corners in around his hands. Then, drawing a dagger from his belt, he cuts yard-long sections off the rope. These he loops around the bedposts, gently securing his brother's wrists and elbows to the mattress.

Then similarly for Raph's legs, using Donatello's own summer-discarded blanket.

When he finishes that, he begins picking apart the bandages at the base of Raph's wing, to give himself access to the place he needs to cut.

Hopefully Naoki will be back soon with that hot water.]

[Naoki returns soon enough with the hot water, making his way over to Don with it. He glances over at Isamu, expression briefly flickering, a little uncertain, before he looks back forward.]

...Tell me if you need me to do anything else.

[Isamu gets the feeling that he isn't needed all that badly now that they've found out Raph can't be magically healed. He gets out of Donatello's way but stays close to the bedside just in case he needs to, well, hold anything.

He glances down at the still motionless turtle.] Sorry about this, Sensei.

[Yes, Isamu, he does need you to hold something. He stretches out Raph's wing as carefully as possible, pinching the upper edge lightly between his fingers.] Isamu, hold this. Just like this. Naoki, hold the pan underneath.

[As they move into position, Don reaches to plunge his instruments into the steaming water. The dagger he leaves there, to heat. The scalpel he withdraws after a moment, and poises it above the last shreds of tissue connecting Raph's wing to his body. A bone saw, it turns out, would have been superfluous.]

[Deep breath.]

[And cut.]

[Naoki moves the pan as instructed, his mouth flinching preemptively when Don moves the instruments into the hot water. His eyes dart to the side, unable to watch the process.]

[Something pulls at his subconscious from the silent depths of dark oceans, tugging him into something solid, growing sharper, hotter and colder at the same time. Breathless. A distant part of him recognizes it as pain, and he grapples for the darkness, blissful unfeeling abyss. Hold on. Don't let go.

He doesn't know how long he's been holding his breath, fighting with every inch of his being to hold onto the torpor. His lungs ache, his bones ache, his head aches from concentration.

Then the tug wrenches him away, tears him in half, his nerves on fire. Agony.

His eyelids fly open, unseeing, and he gasps for air with a scream, trying to pull into himself, only to be pulled from another direction. He balks against the ropes with another painful gasp of air, his suddenly racing pulse making the blood flow freely from the incision.]

[Isamu does as he's asked, holding the wing in place. He winces as Don prepares to do the cutting but is unable to get himself to look away.

It had to have been damn painful, given Raph's reaction. As the injured turtle struggles, he glances up at Don.] It's okay, dude. We gotcha. It's done now.

[The wing comes away in Isamu's hands, and Raph screams, arching against his bonds.

In one swift move, Don leans forward, spreading his hand on Raph's shell above his wingjoints, and resting all his weight on it. With his other hand, he reverses the scalpel and pushes it handle-first at Naoki.]

Naoki, the knife. Quickly.

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