Lost in the Fight

Chapter 33 - Turning Point

*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.

*Author's Notes: I'm back with chapter 33 of 'Lost in the Fight.' Sorry for the wait . . .

Thanks so much for reading, voting, and/or commenting on 'Lost in the Fight,' as well as my other stories. Also, a huge thank you to everyone who nominated and voted for my stories in the 2016 TMNT Universal Fanfiction Competition. I was completely blown away by the results. 

A special thanks to my amazing friend, Flaux, for drawing the beautiful new cover art for both 'Lost in the Fight' and 'Mikey's Worst Move Ever.' 

Okay, onto the chapter . . . 

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Chapter 33 – Turning Point

Six of the longest weeks in history had passed since they had nearly lost Donatello and some semblance of normalcy had returned to the lair. The lingering physical wounds inflicted upon the genius turtle had shown significant improvement over the past few weeks. So much so, that he was able to get around the lair with the aid of a homemade crutch lovingly handcrafted by Leo and Master Splinter. Donnie also utilized walls, furniture, concrete ledges, sewer pipes, and various large objects to get to where he wanted to go. The wounded turtle had gotten so proficient at hopping and hobbling about on one good leg and a crutch, he didn't bother to use his wheelchair anymore. Not even when he was in his laboratory. He had discovered that he much preferring using his tried and true blue task chair to shuttle around the lab. The wheelchair was now only being kept on hand just in case Donnie should need it again . . . and occasionally for Michelangelo's personal entertainment.

Once his brainy big brother no longer required the wheeled seat to get around, Mikey had starting taking the chair out for some highly anticipated topside spins. The wheelchair was like the youngest turtle's own portable roller coaster and he was totally psyched about his new pastime. Of course, his brothers weren't aware of this. If they did find out what he had been doing with the wheelchair when no one was around, they'd probably crack his shell.

Donatello's lab was now back to the way it was before the incident. The cot, heart monitor, infusion stand, and miscellaneous medical supplies that had been strewn about the laboratory for weeks had all been returned to their designated locations, which made everyone feel a lot better. It was an out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. Plus, now that the infirmary items were neatly tucked away, it made for less obstacles for Donnie to have to shuffle around.

The gaping hole in Donatello's shoulder had healed over, but he would always sport a nasty scar from the stab wound and consequent cauterization.

Then, there was the internal damage . . .

While the outside of the shoulder appeared to be mended for the most part, the inside of the shoulder was another story. It was in tough shape. Really tough shape. A heavy-duty sling still kept Donnie's shoulder immobilized due to the extensive tissue, muscle, tendon, and bone damage that the naginata blade had caused. The injured turtle had grown to hate the sling with a passion. His family kept assuring him that he would only have to wear it for a little while longer. Much to his growing frustration, Donatello would receive a similar type of response whenever he inquired about his still-splinted broken leg.

"Just a few more weeks . . . "

Well, that was a few weeks too long as far as Donnie was concerned.

His family was doing their best to get Donatello back on his feet. Despite the fact that he still had one leg and arm incapacitated, his brothers and father had already begun the painful process of trying to get his physique back up to snuff . . .