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

Chapter 4

If Don hadn't hit the peak of exhaustion before, talking with the surgeon had certainly finished the job.

The minute Glurin wheeled him into the office, it felt like all the air had been crushed out of his lungs. It was dark, just like every other part of the ship he's seen, but small and unwelcomingly bare. At the far end of the room was a station of monitors that emitted a weird, greenish glow. As Glurin left them to their privacy, his sense of foreboding only grew.

Leo's surgeon, a crimson-colored utrom who had introduced himself as Dr. Obligado, was obviously a brilliant doctor, but had a bedside manner that left much to be desired. Don had wanted to ask him everything, to learn things about their anatomy and physiology that he never had the chance to with the resources he normally had available. But the good doctor was stern, hardly looking up from his work tapping on the monitors as he prattled on about what was important while disregarding his less relevant questions.

It had all boiled down to this: their species was completely distinct from the lifeforms the utroms were accustomed to treating. Luckily, during their time spent on Earth, Obligado and his fellow scientists had managed to study the biology of native organisms in staggering depth. Reptiles, insects, but mainly mammals. He had treated many humans in the past, mostly the guardians of his stranded race, with a fusion of modern Earth and utrom medicines.

But Donatello and his family were biological anomalies. They could use all the modified practices they learned through centuries of working with humans, but there was no way of knowing how mutant turtle bodies would react to medications. There were no studies on healing process or wound management. No charts or textbooks to refer to while trying to steer clear of vital organs. They were flying almost as blindly as he usually was.

It isn't a good feeling. As he watched the utrom flit between the screens of his work station, his hands grew clammy and it was getting harder to breathe. His constant faith in utrom science is what had gotten him this far without a nervous breakdown. But to hear that even the utrom where in the dark...

Just as panic is rising like floodwaters in his chest, Obligado takes a thoughtful pause, his red eyes piercing through the pallid monitor glow.

"However," he continues, "I have a colleague who is far better versed in your type of species variant. She has spent many years researching the mutagenic effects of utrom chemical waste on your planet's fauna."

It isn't the reassurance he'd been hoping for, but it's more than he'd been expecting. He forces himself to take a breath.

"Where is she now?"

"She is with your brother, Raphael. We are hoping her knowledge will be an asset during his procedure and recovery."

Don nods once, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. It had felt like a dream, actually having the luxury of real doctors, real medical equipment, actual medicine that went beyond sewing his family together with fishing line and boiled needles. Staving off infection with nothing but Tylenol and a prayer.

It was so easy to believe that the utroms could do anything. With all their technology, they should be able to do everything. And it kills him to realize that even the utroms have their limitations. That even after they were scooped up from the edge of oblivion, brought onto this ship like some kind of miracle, it still wasn't enough. Even with all these resources right at their fingertips, what they are still kept them from getting what they need.

For a moment, he just lets himself go. Grief, self-pity, worry, frustration... it all washes over him like cold water deep enough to crush his bones. He presses his hand to his forehead and breathes, feeling the doctor's eyes on him and not giving a single damn about it. The utrom waits in silence until he gathers himself away from the verge of tears, takes a shuddering breath, rubs his face and moves on like nothing happened.