Author's Note: My first try in this fandom, yay! I hope you enjoy! (By the way, I-do-not-own-TMNT *cough*) Dialogue is light through the first half of this chapter, but things pick up after that. Donnie does get injured, but I try to keep the gross-out factor minimal.

What Makes a Family

Part One

Between the five of them, April had the most cloth to spare, during their panicked trip back to the lair. She didn't hesitate; her shirt came off, and was now serving as a tourniquet.

Now in a sports bra, she sat on the floor of the Shell Raiser, Donnie's head cradled in her lap, as she did her best to apply pressure to the wound in his shoulder.

The shirt was already soaked through, and Donatello's breathing was growing more labored by the moment.

"Yeah. Five minutes, Sensei. Right. I will." Raph was on the phone, bringing Splinter up to speed. Leo and Mikey were both focused on getting home as fast as possible, and for once, even Mikey wasn't making jokes. They couldn't afford a wrong turn.

Raph silently dropped down next to April, and placed a hand over one of hers. She let him take over, moving to cup Donnie's face instead, mixing the sweat on his cheeks with blood.

"Donnie. Don." Raph's voice was unusually soft, but insistent as he leaned over him, pressing into the wound. "We need to know what to do when we get back. Sensei says you'll need blood- a transfusion. He remembers you had a plan, in case something like this happened..." His voice cracked slightly, and Raph scowled deeply, briefly furious. Then he leaned further forward, an intense focus laced with suppressed panic settling over his face. Helpless fury at the situation, after all, would not help Donnie.

April watched silently as Raphael worked to coax answers from his wounded brother, her hands gently massaging Donnie's temples, her own face hard. She couldn't cry right now, although there was a ball of pure dread deep in her gut, trying to claw its way into her throat. The adrenaline, and the urgent need to be useful, now, kept the panic at bay. They all needed to focus. They all needed to be at 110% for Donnie.

April felt Donnie's throat working, just before he found his voice. It came out as a croak, but he was still mostly intelligible.

"T-trans...fus...ion." He breathed in and out a few times, rasping. "Sensei...Sensei..." Then April saw something there, in his eyes, and for just an instant his gaze locked with hers.

Regret. Hesitance. For just that instant, it overshadowed the pain.

"Yeah, Donnie? Keep going..." Raph's voice was gritty, but gentle, fear laced through every word. He was panting lightly, staring hard as if he might absorb Donnie's instructions via telepathy.

Donatello's brow creased, then his face relaxed a little, as if some inner struggle had briefly taken place, and been resolved.

"Only...only Splinter...can help. His blood..." He gasped, face briefly filled with the stark lines of agony radiating from the hole in his shoulder.

A bullet had passed straight through it, only a hair's breadth from the edge of his plastron, taking a chunk of tissue with it. And it had likely at least grazed one of the more important arteries.

That was according to Donnie, anyway, when he was still able to talk rapid fire. It must've been only minutes earlier that night, but to April it felt like hours had already passed. She could picture Donnie, in perfect clarity, as he had stood there, moments after the echo of the gun shot stopped ricocheting around the alleyway, the Purple Dragon responsible for the damage already out cold on the concrete. Donnie's hand had pressed to the wound, and he'd watched as the blood pulsed through his fingers, commenting on the nature of the wound, before his body and mind started going into shock. Before, moments later, he collapsed to his knees, and April, using all her strength, just barely managed to stop him from face planting into the ground.

"Okay! So Sensei can give you a transfusion. Is that what you mean, Donnie? That Sensei's blood will work?" Raph still stared, eye wide, intent on not screwing this up.

Donatello nodded twice, eyes closed, face still a mask of pain. "Only Sensei's blood..."

April hoped that wouldn't be a problem. Splinter, aside from Donnie himself, was the most skilled at first aid, and the only one who could administer the blood transfusion. They all knew the basics, even April now, but this was a delicate business. April knew you could die if oxygen were introduced to the blood at any point.

"Don, is there anything else? You're gonna need stitches, I know Sensei has that covered, I-I think..." Raph's face grew rigid as his brother's face grew slack for a moment. "Don...hey, stay with me bro..."

April's eyes widened as she thought of something. "Antibiotics! Donnie." April caressed his temples, applying a little more pressure, to help with coaxing him back to awareness. "Donnie! Medicine, is there medicine in the lab we should give you?"

It was a struggle, but when the Shell Raiser came to a stop a few minutes later, April and Raph had confirmed where to look to locate Donnie's medicine kit, and which jar inside contained the correct pills to prevent infection, and the dosage to use.

No one voiced the worry that, if anything went wrong, they wouldn't be needed.

They all stood around the table where Donatello now lay, watching as Splinter worked to place a catheter into Donatello's arm. Mikey was holding Donnie's hand, despite the fact that his brother had passed out minutes back.

Leo spoke. "Who's going to give him blood?"

"I will!" Michelangelo piped up instantly, eyes glued to his brother's clammy face, which was pulled down into a frown of pain even while unconscious. He thrust out an arm. "I'm not afraid of a little needle, hook me up Sens..."

"It needs to be Master Splinter. Donnie said." Raph spoke over him, eyes also glued to Donnie's unconscious form. "He was really clear on that, Mikey."

Splinter paused, his eyes briefly wide. One second passed. Then he nodded, accepting Raphael's words, and continued working.

Before long, the flow of life-giving liquid was making its way into Donatello's body, and Splinter moved immediately on to the process of cleaning and stitching the wound as best he could. To keep the transfusion going, he had placed his own catheter on the outside of his arm, rather than placing it on the inner elbow, so that he could move with more freedom. Even so, Leo stayed close by, hand hovering to be sure the connection and flow was never disturbed.

Raph and Mikey stayed near, while being careful to keep out of the way. It was April, meanwhile, who made sure Splinter had everything he needed as he worked, a helper to him as she often was to Donnie. They found the bullet lodged on the inside of Donatello's shell, gore spattered around it, as the shell had caught nearly everything coming out from the exit point. It was gruesome, but a blessing, because it meant the bullet hadn't ricocheted internally.

Nearly two grueling hours later, and the stitches were in place. Donnie's pulse was steady, his temperature only slightly lower than normal. His breathing was even, if shallow. About thirty minutes into the surgery, he had woken once, briefly, only to pass out again moments later. Even that brief interlude had been nightmarish, the sounds he'd made horrifying, the stitches already in place pulled partially out as he'd moved suddenly. Even now, a scowl of pain pulled the curve of his mouth down, and a slight crease was on his brow. But the the most dangerous part was done.

Leo, Raph, and Mikey, taking incredible care, worked together to move Donnie to his bedroom, where he could sleep more comfortably. Leo volunteered to watch over him first, and wasted no time settling into the only chair the room contained, pulling it up to Donnie's bed. He sat, then lifted his legs up and gently weaved his feet under one of Donnie's calves, maintaining a physical connection.

With a promise to return in a few hours, Splinter left the room first, followed slowly by the others. Raph lingered the longest, and made a point of pushing the door wider open.

In his straight forward way, he gave Leonardo an unblinking promise that managed to sound, to someone who didn't know him, like a veiled threat.

"Call if you need us." Leo nodded his own promise, and Raphael turned to leave.

When Raphael entered the kitchen a few minutes later, April and Mikey both sat at the table already, as Master Splinter made himself a cup of tea and a snack of crackers and cheese, to replenish his blood after sharing so much of it with Donatello.

Mikey's expression was unfocused, his eyes vaguely following Splinter's movements, more asleep than awake. April was staring down at her hands, a somber expression on her face. Her pale complexion betrayed her exhaustion more clearly, by painting dark rings under her eyes, something which was much harder to spot in Raphael and his brothers.

Their sensei was also harder to judge, but as Raph slumped into a chair at the table, he could see the signs. There was a very subtle tremor in the mutant rat's hands, as he stirred his tea. The angle of his head and shoulders was another clue.

Mikey sighed loudly, waking up a little. As if in response, Splinter turned to the teenagers.

"You should all rest. Donatello will require care for many days to come, and the opportunity for our own recuperation shouldn't be missed." He blinked, focusing on them individually, and his voice softened. "You did well tonight, my sons. April, thank you for your assistance, I am grateful to you."

"Of course, Sensei." April smiled, the look meant to reassure. But the gesture, perhaps because it felt so wrong after the terrifying events of that night, fell quickly away. She stared down at her hands again, clenching them together, shoulders starting to tremble.

Mikey reached out a comforting hand, rubbing April's back, a little taken aback as silent tears started a path down her cheeks. April was a tough girl, and Mikey was hard put to think of the last time he'd seen her cry. And besides, if she kept crying, he might end up joining her.

He struggled against his fatigue, in order to comfort her. "S'okay, April. Donnie's gonna be okay. You- you were awesome toni..."

"I was in the way." April bit her lower lip, hard, and her shoulders shook even harder.

No one spoke for several seconds.

Mikey started again, tentatively. "April..."

"No. I was trying so hard to b-be a kunoichi, to be part of the team." Her voice turned harsh, derogatory, as it lingered on that last word. "I pushed, and pushed, and pushed to be included, and- and I was in the way. Donnie wouldn't have been..."

She put a hand over her mouth, shoulders heaving, and closed her eyes, trying to muffle her own cries. Mikey, desperate to make April feel better, pulled her toward him, and she finally returned the hug, throwing her arms around him.

"It's okay...it's okay, April." With wide eyes, Mikey looked over to Raph, who could only shrug his shoulders. As much as he didn't want to admit it out loud right now, Raphael had to agree with April on this.

But, as he watched her cry into his brother's shoulder, tears now forming in Mikey's eyes too, Raph knew that wasn't fair. Donnie himself had been eager to include April, had done his best to be her crutch whenever she needed one. When the leap was too long between buildings for her to manage, or when she wasn't fast or strong, or heck, simply skilled enough to pull her own weight in a fight, Donnie was always there first. And they all wanted to include her, as much as they could. Even Sensei had agreed she could come on the patrols sometimes. Since he had given his go ahead, April couldn't be held solely accountable for what happened tonight. And besides, Raphael knew one thing for sure.

"Donnie...he isn't gonna blame you for this, April. And neither do we." He shook his head, crossing his arms as he thought about the fight earlier that night. "That low life...I mean, come on, he had a gun squirreled away in a freakin' ankle holster! Most times somebody might have a knife there, but a second gun? You didn't see that coming, and neither did Donnie. Okay? So..." He dropped off, uncertain, as April shook her head against Mikey's shoulder, still in tears.

"No, Raph. H-he was d-distracted. Donnie chose to take out the guy behind me first, because I didn't see him, and don't tell me I wouldn't have gotten hurt, because yes I would have, f-for the nth time, if one of you guys hadn't stepped in again."

A moment went by, during which Raphael attempted and failed to think of something to say. Then April gently pulled away from Mikey, still sniffling back tears, shoulders still trembling.

She stood and turned to face Splinter, eyes to the ground, and gave their sensei a proper bow from the waist. She spoke to the ground, as Raphael and Mikey, still sitting, both stared at her.

"Sensei, I'm sorry. I put your sons in danger because of my i-impatience. I...I've been honored to be allowed to train as your student, but..."

"Miss O'Neil." When she remained bowing, Splinter stepped forward, touching her shoulder gently. "Please look at me." When she had straightened up, face miserable, he continued.

"Any blame, if it must be assigned, lies with me." Splinter lowered his chin slightly, his eyes focusing more intently on April, voice growing firm when she made a motion to interrupt. "As your sensei, I chose to allow you to accompany my sons to the surface. You are correct; they do go above and beyond to protect you. They do so because they love you...and they recognize that this fight, with the Krang and with the Foot, found you. You did not seek it. But, when confronted, you chose to face your enemies head on." He paused, and squeezed her shoulder slightly. "Because of your unique situation, I decided that an accelerated approach to the practicalities of fighting was appropriate. That is why I've allowed you to sometimes accompany my sons during their patrols."

Splinter sighed, a silent movement rather than an audible exhalation of the breath. "I trust that, in the future, you will carefully judge the situation before leaping into a potential fight alongside my sons. And we can discuss in detail exactly what went wrong tonight, during your training." His voice softened. "You are an incredibly brave person, April, and one day you will make an exceptional kunoichi. Yes?"

April nodded her head, a bow in miniature. Her eyes were still bright with unshed tears, and guilt warred with gratitude there. "Yes, Sensei."

Given the events of the evening, Splinter knew it would take time for the shock waves running through his family's emotional and physical bodies to subside. Given that, April's response was positive. With a nod, he returned to the kitchen counter to eat his snack, and attempt to take some rest before returning to his son's side.

Donatello woke in stages. He was first aware of the throbbing in his fingertips, like an echo, which then led to something deeper, embedded in the right side of his chest. The pain there throbbed also, but much more intensely.

He struggled to force heavy eye lids up, as he became aware of his other appendages, and the way his head was resting on something soft; the smell of the space, the sounds. He gasped lightly, tensing as he finally came fully awake, and his eyes opened as a familiar hand came to rest on his uninjured shoulder.

"Donatello, my son. You are safe."

Donnie allowed himself to relax again, eyes resting on his sensei's concerned face. "Hi Sensei." His voice was thin, but held a hint of humor, and Splinter smiled.

The double meaning wasn't lost, as Donatello, out of all his sons, was particularly fond of puns, and Hai, in Japanese, meant yes.

"Here, I have water..." Before long, Splinter had successfully helped his son carefully drink down an antibiotic, a pain killer, and a full glass of water.

Splinter knew he should go get the others, but, at nearly twelve hours after first hearing of the attack, he was truly exhausted. Sitting and watching his still breathing child was too tempting, at least for a few more minutes.

He found himself looking over the wound, hoping once again that he had done a good enough job. He also found himself marveling at how much Donatello himself had done in advance to prevent this from turning into a true tragedy.

He grasped his son's hand, comforted by the warmth he felt in it. "It is lucky, that I could provide my blood. You had lost so much of it."

Donatello's hand tensed slightly under his, making Splinter immediately intent. "Are you in pain?"

"No...well, yes. The pain killer should start taking effect soon, Sensei." Donatello's eyes were the only thing to follow him, and Splinter could tell he was already growing tired again.

"Good." Now surely wasn't the time, but Splinter was reminded that he had been singled out as the only viable donor, and a question had formed.

"Donatello, am I correct that you four cannot serve as donors to one another, should the need arise?"

Donatello blinked once, taking in the question, and Splinter was sure, if it weren't for the blood loss, that his cheeks would have colored as he looked sheepishly away.

"Ah...not quite, Sensei."

Splinter sat quietly, absorbing the unexpected answer. A moment later, Donatello's eyes darted toward him, as if trying to catch a quick look without getting caught, and flicked away again, nervous.

"The..." Donatello swallowed, and tried to reassure his sensei. "The others can serve as donors to each other, however, and I can give you blood in a pinch. So, all our bases are covered."

Splinter moved to pull gently on his beard in a repetitive motion, one, two, three times. Then he paused, shifting his gaze toward the ceiling. "I admit, I do not understand how this makes sense, but I am no geneticist." Splinter left the comment open, inviting Donatello to explain further. Something was urging him to be tread carefully, and yet...the voice of caution in his mind was weaker than the curiosity which prompted him forward.

As expected, Donatello quickly answered. "I can explain."

But then he didn't. The silence grew, until, as if in a slow motion double take, Splinter finally realized the aforementioned explanation wasn't going to come. Splinter let his gaze drop from the ceiling, but his next words died as their eyes met.

Donatello, eyes wide, looked as though he was trapped, uncomfortable and unhappy. And in pain.

Splinter shook his head, innerly chastising himself. "It can wait. Do not concern yourself about it right now, my son. Let me fetch you more water. And the others will want to know you've woken."

Splinter retrieved the glass from Donatello's desk, and with a gentle nod, left the bedroom. In his mind's eye, though, the wide eyes of his son, looking so conflicted, stayed with him.

A few days went by, before the subject of their prior conversation was picked back up, albeit in an unexpected way. Donatello was resting on the couch in the living area, where he had spent the majority of his time lately, and Leo sat on the beanie bag.

"It's fortunate that you were here, Dr. Mindstrong, or Crankshaw's lifeless body would surely be jettisoning into space as we speak!" Captain Ryan spoke, as Leo would put it, in his typically heroic way, hands on his hips.

On the television set, Dr. Mindstrong raised a thoughtful eyebrow. "Indeed."

Ensign Crankshaw, who lay on a sickbed while the other two stood, raised an eyebrow as well, echoing Dr. Mindstrong's expression. "Indeed."

Dr. Mindstrong's eyebrow went up slightly higher. He steepled his fingers contemplatively.

Captain Ryan rolled his eyes. "Dr. Mindstrong, how long will Crankshaw be like this?"

"A few days only, Captain, and the effect will have worn off. I may be a universal donor for all of humanity, but this is the price."

Captain Ryan looked glum, eyes narrowed in a scowl. "I suppose it was a...necessary price to pay. A necessary...evil."

Crankshaw piped up again, still looking thoughtful. "Indeed."

As Captain Ryan tried to slap sense into the ensign, despite his grievous injuries, Leonardo turned away from the show.

"Hey Donnie, that reminds me! I've been meaning to ask you for a run down of who can be a donor for who in the family. We need to be better prepared if something like this happens again."

Donatello, who had been paying more attention to his laptop than to the show, looked up, eyes wide in alarm. "Oh-oh?" He cleared his throat, his face losing the panicked expression so quickly, Leo almost thought he'd imagined it. "Of course. I'll write up a list, Leo." He cleared his throat again. "Later." His eyes were back on the laptop already.

Leonardo frowned, and he might've let it drop for the moment, if it weren't for the fact that Space Heroes had just taken a commercial break.

"Yeah, but it can't be that complicated, right? I mean, I assume that Splinter is kind of like Dr. Mindstrong- a donor for all of us. But what surprises me is that we can't be donors to each other."

"Heyyyy!" Mikey, who had been reading a comic book in the tire swing, glanced up, suddenly paying attention. "Seriously, I was wondering about that, like, earlier. Thanks for asking, Leo!" With a leap and a few bounds, Michelangelo had joined Donnie on the couch, forcing the other turtle to bend his knees to make room.

Michelangelo gave Donatello a look that would've fit better on a golden retriever wanting to play catch. "So. What's the deal? Is Splinter Dr. Mindstrong, or what?"

Donnie huffed, eyes narrowed at his sometimes obnoxious brother, and turned so that his shell, rather than his side, was to the back of the couch, setting his feet on the ground.

"No." He stared hard at the laptop, but his focus was slipping away as he felt both of his brothers eyes on him, waiting. "Look, I'm tired! And injured, remember? Let's leave this for some other time. Okay?" The last words came out angry, and louder than intended. Donatello could feel his face heating up, and awkwardly attempted to place the laptop on the coffee table, trying his best to avoid jostling his right arm, which was in a sling. Mikey leaned over, taking it from him, and carefully put it on the table.

Donnie stood up, without meeting their eyes. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's cool, bro. You're healing. People get cranky when they're in pain and stuff." Mikey jumped up to follow as Donnie shuffled toward his bedroom without comment. "Hey! Want me to fix you something to eat?"

Donatello paused, his face softening, and turned slightly. "No, I'm- I'm good, Mikey. But thanks."

As Donnie turned back, his peripheral vision caught something out of place. He glanced toward the kitchen entrance, and stiffened as he saw Splinter standing there.

Donnie gave a gentle nod, eyes wary despite his effort to appear calm, and continued to his bedroom. He tried to prevent his mind from running back through the last few minutes, for the purpose of finding, in his visual or auditory memory, some clue to how long Splinter had been listening to the conversation.

He didn't want to obsess over this. He didn't want to think about it all.

Author's Note: This is part one of a two parter. The other half's written, I just need to edit. If you can take a minute, I really appreciate constructive feedback. Thanks!