[If Don could reach through the journal and throttle Derek, he would be sorely tempted to do it now. But he can't, and in the three minutes it takes him to reach the square the urge has subsided, or at least been replaced by desires that focus on helping rather than on hurting.]
[Derek has Raphael...more or less on his back, keeping him there by holding onto his arms and leaning forward a little. It's not comfortable, but it's the only way Derek could carry him, especially since the turtle is so drugged that he's not only limp, but drooling into Derek's hair]
[Don hesitates - broken shells are a tricky thing to handle - but then he sees that someone has done Raph the courtesy of properly plastering his fractures.
He slides in at Derek's shoulder, taking Raph's weight onto his back.]
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[He sounds exhausted but glad to hear his house mate's voice]
Coming down the road now, just passing the square. Need a little help if you can swing it.
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...How are you guys?
[Still trying to keep as much of this off the journals as he can.]
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Can he talk to me?
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You'll see him in a few minutes. Probably better if we don't try and make him use the journals.
[Please take the hint....]
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Raph... ?
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If you can get one side...[Derek says quietly.}
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He slides in at Derek's shoulder, taking Raph's weight onto his back.]
It's all right. I can carry him.
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It feels good. He can do this.
... But something is wrong. He tips his head back, until his scalp bumps against Raph's snout.
Cold. Much too cold.]
Derek, go ahead of me. There's a stash of hot water bottles in my closet. Find them and start filling them. I'll catch up.
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[And off he goes. He'll everything ready by the time Don gets there.]
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