Love's Causality Ch 7 - Promises to Keep

Chapter 7 - Promises to Keep

"Mikey!" April shouted, wasting no time. There was none to lose. Donatello would die right under their noses if she didn't act. She lurched forward and scrambled to take hold of the loosened tourniquet and began twisting it with frantic, but sure motions. She reached out and fumbled. She lifted what was left of his arm and held it up, bracing it between her forearm and the side of her breast.

Michelangelo peered over the end of the table, over one shoulder at her, then down to the floor, to the puddle. He hopped up and pointed. "Oh god! Oh, oh god!"

"Get the antibiotics. Get them started in his IV. Right now. A-And get me one of those towels!"

"Y-Yeah. Okay, right. Here!" Mikey grabbed the sterile towels he'd taken from Donatello's spare kit and tossed them to her. She caught it under her chin and with her right hand balled it and pressed it onto the end of his arm. Her elbow held his arm in place. The bleeding had now eased between her tightening the tourniquet and elevating his arm, but the white material instantly spotted in pink, darkening to a bright red. She remained like this, pressing firmly but gently on the end while still holding the tourniquet in place with her left hand. She just needed to give his body a chance to adjust, for some of the severed veins and blood vessels to clot before releasing the taut cord.

Splinter raised his head as Leo spun. One hand still pressed against Donatello's cheek. "What is . . . April? No, my . . . my son. What is wrong with him?" Splinter's eyes went everywhere until he met her stony expression. He raced around the head of the table, coming up right behind her.

"Get Raph and Leo out of here," she said, voice shaking at the end of her sentence. She was angry with him. For not waiting for Michelangelo or her before proceeding. For not using the proper tools to bring Donatello to a safely unconscious state. For using alcohol – what was he thinking!? For causing him to lose so much blood unnecessarily. But she bit back her anger, focusing all her energy into making things right. Donatello's safe recovery and life depended on her keeping cool.

Mikey appeared behind her with another bag for the IV; with hands that trembled, he hooked it over the large nail jutting from the bricks and attached the tubing. Splinter shuffled aside, watching his youngest son with no small amount of surprised awe. Mikey gave him a sidelong glance. He was both happy and hurt at his father's wonder. If anyone would have listened to him, Donatello's amputation would have gone much better, he knew this. And it hurt. That none of them, but in particular, his father, trusted that he had anything other than silliness and clowning to offer.

"What's wrong with him?" Raph asked hoarsely as he climbed quickly to stand. His mottled face shot to Leonardo, standing helplessly to one side of April. His face a mask of blank confusion. "You! What did you do!?"

Leo started and blanched. His mouth worked but nothing came out.

"Master Splinter, Mikey and Donnie needs some room. I need you all out of here."

"You fucked this up, didn't you!" Raph circled the cot, eyes blazing and locked on his brother. "If Donnie dies . . .!"

"N-No," Leo finally managed, eyes widening.

Raph came up on him; shoved him back with a growl. Still numb from what he'd just done to Donatello, Leonardo did not react. He stumbled bonelessly. Weak legs nearly giving out. His shell hit the counter with a bang. Pill bottles scattered. The empty vodka bottle teetered and fell, exploding into broken glass.

Everyone started yelling at once. "Raphael!" Splinter shouted. Raph's voice rose over Splinter and April's complaints, "I knew you'd screw up! I knew it!" "Stop it!" Mikey hollered, bouncing in place, his hand resting protectively over Donnie's shoulder onto his chest. "Enough!" Splinter called out again.

Raphael approached Leo, ignoring the protests ringing all around him. This time Leo raised his fists, chest heaving, eyes wide with fury and fear. Raph paused, staring him down, panting through gritted teeth.

"I did exactly what Sensei told me to do!" he said, his voice higher than normal but relatively stable.

April, eyes flashing in barely suppressed rage, turned to face Mikey. With a jerk of her head, she indicated for him to come closer. He squeezed by Master Splinter, standing rigidly near April. She placed Donnie's arm into Mikey's hands, pressing it firmly but gently against his chest with a look that told him not to move it from the elevated position. His face was pale, his freckles stood out. He nodded. He held the towel in place and glanced down at his brother's unconscious face, looking as if asleep and slightly ill.

She murmured quickly, "Start to release this slowly, okay?" She took his free hand and placed it over the tourniquet.

April then spun around and ducking under Splinter's outstretched arm as he reached over the corner of the cot to his boys staring each other down, wound and ready to spring on one another, she popped up on the other side. She wedged herself between Leo and Raph just as Raphael had his fist knocked away by one of Leo's wrists. She grabbed at Raph's opposite fist with two hands. She tried to push Raph away but he was a wall of unyielding coiled muscle.

Raph moved side to side, trying to get around her. Scuffling. All the time shouting that Leo had hurt Donnie, for her to get out of the way. Leo, behind her, making desperate noises, partial explanations and denial that he'd done nothing but what Splinter had told him. And Splinter commanding for his son to back down. To leave the room. All of it going unheard.

April let go of Raph's fist. She brought her arm up and back. She swung; cracked Raphael across his cheek. The sound of her hand smacking his face ripped through the noise like a gunshot.

Wide-eyed, he fell back a step; with a dark pink mark blossoming across his cheek, he slowly tuned his face to April, mouth agape.

"Get." She exhaled, inhaled and swallowed. "Out."

Raphael, still holding his throbbing cheek with one palm, ducked his head. "I-I'm sorry," he huffed with glassy eyes. "I just . . . I," he glanced down at Donatello, shaking his head and growing more miserable than before. "'M sorry," he repeated and slid one foot back, then the other, before turning and fleeing from the room. Splinter stormed after him.

April twisted and looked at Leo. His chest heaved and his glassy eyes blinked rapidly. Head low, he skirted around her, sidestepping both her and the puddle at their feet.

"I-I . . . what happened?" he asked quickly and quietly. "Is he, is Donnie going to be okay?"

Her head bobbed, "Yeah, yes. I think so." She hugged herself. "We've got it under control, I think," she said glancing at Mikey who met her eyes and nodded. "Just . . . go see if Master Splinter needs anything."

"B-But . . ."

Her body shook, but she remained calm on the surface. Donatello was going to be fine. She would not allow anything else to go wrong. "Mikey and I know what to do. If you want to help Donatello, just . . . please go."

He shot a glance at Mikey, who's face was regaining some color. His mouth in a grim line, an expression so serious and out of place on his youngest brother's face, Leo nearly didn't recognize him.

"You heard the lady," Mikey croaked. "Trust me, bro. I really know what I'm doing."

With that, Leo gave Donatello a gentle press of his hand upon his brother's shoulder and swept from the room. April and Mikey sighed and locked gazes.

"What now?" she asked him.

"I'm going to release this thing now," he said, indicating the tourniquet. "I think the worst of the bleeding's pretty much done. But we'll need to keep this uh, elevated."

She glanced around for something to prop his arm up with and set to creating a lift to keep it raised, using the IV contraption that Donatello had already rigged and a spare towel to cradle his arm.

Mikey eased himself back, watching April in silence. He felt washed out and shaky, but focused, acting on the knowledge that he'd gathered over the years of hanging out with Donnie in the lab; watching him set bones and measure out vaccines and pain killers. Always listening, though Donatello seemed to think that Mikey would zone out when he'd talk, when the truth was, it was all so interesting to Mikey and the stuff he didn't get, he sort of soaked up and came to a general understanding through context clues.

"I think he's as stable as we can get him right now, Mikey," April said, patting the unconscious boy across one brow with her fingertip. "His head is cool. The fever's gone down."

"It probably broke with the antibiotics, maybe," he shrugged. "I dunno. I'm just guessing."

April moved towards him. She placed a hand on either of his shoulders. "You're doing great, Mikey."

He tipped his head from side to side. He sighed heavily and dropped onto a stool off to one side. "I just wished they'd have waited. We could've made this, uh, easier on Donnie."

She nodded, unable to argue, unable to give him any good reason as to why they didn't wait. She knew the reasons and none of them were good. So, she kept quiet.

"Do you think he'll need a, um, transfusion thing, 'cuz of all the blood he lost?"

April considered the question. She bit the corner of her bottom lip, feeling her body hanging with exhaustion and the draining away of adrenaline. She just wanted to lie down and sleep at this point.

"I think, because his pulse is good, his heartbeat is stable and strong," she said, looking encouragingly at Mikey who nodded along, "that he'll be okay without one." She stepped back and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. The stench of blood and sweat hung like a malaise over them. "We should tidy up."

"Yeah, this isn't exactly sanitary," he said, sliding off the stool.

He got to work with April cleaning the floor, picking up the glass, mopping the blood and wiping down the counters. April swept once more, afterwards, picking up any errant bits of glasses lingering in the crevices of the floor. All the while, the beeping of the monitors were a sort of comfort and dread. Every pause between sounds a cause for their hearts to skip, for breath to be held, only for the next moment of release and relief. The push-pull of tension created a crawling migraine that built from the back of her eyes and wrapped a vice-like grip around her temples to the back of her head. She slumped into the folding chair. Her head fell forward and she braced it in her palms. Mikey pulled the stool up and sat next to Donatello, taking his temperature and standing every now and then to recheck and double check the IV fluids, the connections and his brother's pulse.

"Mikey," April said in a low voice.

He turned and looked at her. He appeared as tired as she felt.

"Thank you, for everything."

He ducked his head and fidgeted, then placed his hand one Donatello's. He patted it and rubbed it gently. "I should be thanking you. They would've never listened to me and he might have . . ." He shook his head, eyes growing huge and watery. He coughed and looked away from her. "I'm just glad you were here, April," he added, voice thick with emotion.

Her phone trilled at that moment and she nearly fell off the chair in surprise. She dug into her pocket and fumbled until she answered.

"April!?"

"Casey?" April asked, frowning. Then, "What's the matter?"

"Yeah," his voice broke up then cleared through the static, "Your dad is kinda attacking me right now, ah!" His voice drifted into the background, "Mr. O'Neil, Oh! No! I don't think you should throw that, I think that's a family heirloom." There was a distant crash. Then Casey's voice, closer, "Ah, crap. I hope you didn't have an attachment to that bust of Freud."

April's mouth hung open.

"What are you doing at my apartment?" April asked as Mikey moved to stand in front of her, a look of concern on his face.

"Well, I thought I'd just . . . you know and then your dad opened the door and uh," another crash interrupted him and the sound of his breathing heavy and quick as if he was running or dodging something. "Maybe I could explain after you come home?" His voice rose and then, all in a rush, "Like Now? Okay? hurry up! I gotta go, bye."

April jumped up. Her head swooned, vision darkened as the pounding of her migraine crashed through her skull and somehow Mikey had her braced in his large hands.

"Whoa! You better sit back down."

"I can't," she said miserably and grabbed Mikey and pulled him into an embrace. He returned the hug immediately. Into the side of his neck she said, "I want to stay. Oh gosh, Mikey. I do. But I just can't."

He nodded. "No, no way. Listen. April," he squeezed her tighter. "I've got this. It's okay, April. You need to go, then you gotta go. We understand."

She shifted and eased back, wiping her cheeks and huffing a laugh. "Everything's crazy," she said, voice cracking.

Mikey reached up and wiped an errant tear from her jaw. He glanced over his shoulder then back to April, throwing a nod in his brother's direction. "He'll understand."

She sucked in her lips and did her best to regain control. She straightened up. Bobbed her head once. Sniffled. She pointed her phone at Donatello. "Take care of him, Mikey. Okay? Don't let anything happen to him while I'm gone. Okay? Promise me, okay?"

Mikey was nodding as she spoke. "You know it, April. I swear," he added solemnly with a motion of crossing his heart for emphasis. "He'd want you to be with your dad. Take care of him, right? 'Cuz Donnie isn't going anywhere and he's got us to watch over him. And the worst is over, now. Thanks to you."

Her face crushed down and her voice was breathless and choked, "Yeah." She shuffled her feet but remained.

"Go," Mikey insisted. "Go be with your dad right now." He stepped back and cracked his knuckles and swept his hands together, dusting them off. His face split into an almost convincing grin. "Doctor Mikey with the incredible bedside manner is in! For duty and humanity, nyuk, nyuk!" he cried in his best Curlie impersonation.

She laughed again, and it felt as good as it did painful; a bubbling gush of irrational giddiness and relief. They would get through this. All of them. Somehow. And maybe if they were really lucky, they'd remain whole, on the inside, where it mattered most.