ROTTMNT Stuff (And Some 2k12)

Storm before the calm

"Can't we just give 'im anesthesia or pain meds??"
"And how do you suppose we do that, Raph?!"
"I dunno!"
"His body is completely wood! And natural structure of his insides are probably all sorts of fucked up!"
"Well how do we help 'im deal?"
"Hold him down."
"What? Wouldn't that—"
"So he doesn't hurt himself more. ."

A loud, horrifying clicking noise sounded throughout the med bay as both the molecular and physical structure of the softshell's face changed and shifted. He was a puppet, and therefore could not scream to relieve some of the pain that shot through his body in waves. He twitched and jerked uncontrollably, tears cascading down his face in large quantities. His jaw made awful crunching and snapping sounds as it pieced back together, his eyes having already finished the agonizing process long before they got home. (To the point Raph had to carry him)
Leo was quick to reattach the arm, sighing as the chipped and dented metal attached to more chipped and dented metal. He was the only one out of the three other brothers that didn't feel like he was going to throw up. Though that doesn't make him even less mortified of what they had done to his poor softshell brother while he was gone for those two days. Sure, he didn't feel like throwing up, but he did want to cry. He wanted to break down and sob until he physically couldn't anymore while in the arms of his twin. He wanted to hug him like there was no tomorrow, to show him he wasn't ever leaving him alone again. He wanted to fall asleep practically dry heaving and gasping for air in his brother's lap, while being awkwardly patted on the shell with a mechanical arm and told google-read affirmations.

He didn't want to watch his brother writhe on the surgical table in silent agony while his body played contortionist against his will. He didn't want to listen to his bones clicking and his muscles shifting back into their proper places within his body. He didn't want to make Raph hold him down so he didn't hurt anyone or himself.

He didn't want to watch his brother in pain. .

He wanted to sit down and listen to his brother rant about whatever knick-knack or trinket he built that day. He wanted to listen to mindless ramblings about things like dinosaurs or anatomy. He wanted to sit down, having meaningful conversations to ensure the other was okay. He wanted to be playing dumb videogames they stole from big companies for fun. He wanted to be watching a Jupiter Jim marathon while half asleep in a turtle pile.

He didn't want to see the sudden spasms and gasps the twin had been doing for the past ten minutes, or the wood turning back into real skin and muscle, his veins and nerves practically playing marco-polo for their natural places, the tears that flowed like miniature rivers on his face, to hear the bones snapping into their rightful place, the rasped, scratchy breathing of the turtle just trying to bear the pain, the sound of wood digging and smacking against metal as he kicked and thrashed and jerked, and now the distorted screams that had just begun. . .

"Leo, what do we do now? Can't we- knock 'im out or somethin'?"
"Sure, if you wanna be the one to hit him with the frying pan, go ahead." He retorted.
"Oh- sorry. . Forgot—"
"Here, I'll stay here and keep him still, you go do something with Mikey." He ordered, taking a small breath to steel himself.
"No, it's fine. I can—"
"I'm sure Mikey really needs your help, you two can start up a marathon or something. . Plus, I'm the medic, and the twin, so it's kinda my job anyways."
". . Alright, just be careful Leo, make sure to take care of ya'self too."
"Will do Mi Hermano."
The snapper paused, then nodded and left him to it.
He sighed, gently holding his brother's arms down to keep him from hurting either of the two.
The softshell continued to thrash uncontrollably, broken cries becoming more clear as time went on.

Ten minutes became twenty, twenty minutes became fifty, fifty minutes became two hours.

The slider was in complete shock at how long this was taking. He couldn't tell if he was angry, mortified, scared, sad, or all four. He felt so bad for the twin, but couldn't express it for some reason. He just caressed his face, gently rubbing his thumb across his cheek in a soothing and sympathetic manner as the terrapin finally came to.
The softshells body went limp, head lifting to meet the sliders gaze. He saw the twin give a warm smile, continuing to try and soothe him as he leaned his head into his hand.