Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Fascinating,” Donnie’s opponent breathed, the second they were separated from his brothers.

Fascinating was a very concerning thing to hear from an opponent, frankly. He usually only heard it before an opponent tried to eat him (a surprisingly common experience for him in particular, even with Meat Sweats out of the equation), so naturally he swung his bō like he were swatting a fly in an attempt to get her the fuck away from him.

She slithered around his weapon like it was nothing, intent to get closer to him. He yelped and leapt back in shock as she grabbed his bō to wrench it away, trapped between both of their grips, and looked him straight in the eyes.

“It’s almost sublime,” she said, in a deadly calm voice. “I can smell it all over you. All of that distrust and dejection. Oh, how do you live with it?”

Donnie cringed hard. “Get out of my face, pal?”

She tilted her head curiously. He crackled his ninpo. She ducked under the spray of purple sparks and threw herself right into his torso, knocking the bō out of his hands and eliciting a pained growl as they grappled on the floor.

“Ew,” he deadpanned, and kicked at her. She laughed at him like she was playing with her prey, her pupils slitting. 

And then the asshole unsheathed her fangs and bit him.

Donnie yowled in shock, and on reflex, bit her right back. Her teeth sank in further as she let loose a feral snarl. He returned the gesture, ripping at flesh. They rolled around and clawed and kicked at each other like angry cats until he finally, finally managed to kick her off.

She rolled across the ground, spraying up dust and licking his blood off her lips, raising back off the ground. Her eyes were glowing, which was unnerving. “A gift from me to you,” she chuckled. “To deal with your little problem.”

“You know I’m fifteen, right?” Donnie asked, just to make sure.

With a hum, she stood up to her full height, tensing to jump him again. A quick kusari-fundo to the face solved that particular problem, Mikey shouting excitedly as he skyrocketed into the fight and stole all of Donnie’s thunder. Very rude.

Raph and Leo hurtled into the fray, but they didn’t even need to be there. Mikey was ripping into her with the excitement of a starving feral dog with a juicy steak. It was to be expected because this was their first fight after their encounter with Shredder, but still.

Honestly, Donnie didn’t want to come along at all. His primary workload had been focused on resettling them into the new lair, since their old one was unsalvageable and destroyed. He wasn’t at full battery and he hadn’t slept in a while. Raph had just been so insistent.

“Wow,” Raph commented, watching Mikey with a little wonder and a lot of concern. “He’s… really goin’ at it.”

“I feel like a proud parent,” Leo replied, clapping Donnie— who was too busy entertaining himself by watching the beatdown to stand—on the back as he walked forward. “Hey, good job Miguel!”

Mikey spit out blood from between his teeth and shot him a big thumbs up.

The fight ended swiftly after that. Donnie would be eating popcorn, if he had access to it. Maybe it would be something to pack later, just for the sake of the bit. On its own it was great to see how much his little brother had grown into himself, especially mystically. He was a bit of a newcomer in that field himself.

Mikey skipped over like he just hadn’t delivered the most satisfying ass-whooping of his life, wiped away the beads of sweat on his forehead, and flashed Donnie a great, brilliant grin. “You good, Dee? You were alone with her for a hot sec there.”

Donnie brushed the dust off his skinned knees with a dramatic sigh. “She bit me.”

“Oh, ewwww!” Leo crowed. “Did she give you rabies? Can yokai even get rabies?”

He shrugged, lifting his forearm to show off the bite mark on his bicep. It throbbed like a bitch, pervasively itchy in a way that made it feel deeper than it actually was. In reality, it didn’t even seem to necessitate stitches, just disinfection and maybe wrapping. Mikey and Leo still grimaced sympathetically.

“I did bite her back,” he said with a bit of pride. “So I have already gotten ample revenge, nothing to concern yourself with.”

“You’re right, you’re probably more rabid than her, yeah,” Leo replied with a snort. “If she didn’t have rabies before, she probably does now.”

“I mean, yokai’re all mystic, right?” Raph leaned forward to inspect it, interested. “Maybe that makes ‘em immune to rabies.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Donnie retorted. “Although, now I’m wondering if yokai get shots, or if they just handle diseases through mystic medicine. It might be something that’d be worth looking into.”

“A topic to nerd out about later,” Leo stuck his tongue out in faux-disgust to punctuate the point, even though it would make his job easier so it concerned him. It was like his dearest family didn’t even value efficiency, scoff. “For now, we totally kicked her butt and saved the day, hooray! Let’s go home and pass out.”

“I’m feeling fine, and I was the champ of that fight, baby!” Mikey sassed, already hopping down the street with a dramatic flourish. “Did you see that flip I did with my chains? That was sick!”

Leo laughed affectionately and walked after him, lapsing into excited conversation that was too brainless for Donnie to discern. Raph turned to follow, before stealing a worried glance at him, who hadn’t noticed he was still standing there. He started trudging after them obligingly.

“You gonna need any help with that?” Raph asked, worry clear and apparent on his face.

Donnie sighed like he was seriously bothered (he wasn’t). “I’ll just run some peroxide over it,” he said, dismissive as ever. “There’d be no use in slowing down and catastrophizing over something so small. I have to get straight back to installing our plumbing system. You should understand why that’s important.”

Raph grimaced, no doubt remembering the lengths they’d had to resort to without a properly functioning toilet or running tap water. Leo shitting in a bucket and leaving it there was probably the most inexcusable, morally reprehensible thing he’d ever done, and he’d done a lot of things worthy of that title.

“Yeah, maybe get that done as soon as possible,” Raph said with a nervous chuckle. “Raph was just checkin’ in with ya.”

“And I appreciate the gesture, truly,” Donnie replied smoothly. “I’m glad I already have the heating prepared, because I am cold. I’m gonna run ahead.”

Raph blinked, confused. “It’s kinda warm out?”

Donnie didn’t stick around to listen to him, running ahead to cut into the other two’s conversation. Raph watched him for a good few seconds, burning a hole into the back of his head with his gaze, before brushing his worries off and lumbering after them.

Honestly, Donnie had almost considered not disinfecting the bite and his poor knees, because the impatience to work work work move move move was overwhelming. But he decided that not taking care of himself was a deeply stupid thing to do, even with his daunting workload. He’d be more efficient if he listened to his body’s needs.

And his family desperately needed efficiency after everything that's happened.

The new lair wasn’t a downgrade, frankly. It was different, and different was always something Donnie had struggled with, but it had a lot of creative potential. The train cars were more spacious than their original rooms, and most of the essential areas were packed closer together instead of spaced out by different floors, which made it faster to walk around in.

It hurt not to be able to navigate it with his eyes closed like before, but that was fine. It was an adjustment, just like every change was. And despite needing the most time to get used to it, he was the only one that could make it livable, so it’s not like he had much time to sit and soak it in.

Heating. Air conditioning. Ventilation. Plumbing. Electricity. A working kitchen. Working wi-fi (it had been the first thing he’d done, by request). Restocking the medbay, including synthesizing their painkillers again. A new lab for future projects. Water-proofing for everything in case of hurricane season. Fixing up the garage . Soundproofing. The security system.

He didn’t have time to process, basically.

His family were running on very little resources as he chipped away at tasks, one by one. It’d been only because of Raph’s insistence that he went out patrolling at all. Crime doesn’t sleep. We gotta be heroes, and all that, like Donnie wasn’t the only one preventing them from eating like medieval serfs or cavemen, scoff. Maybe they’d prefer that, as stupid as they were, but he actually cared about their health and safety, unlike them themselves. Someone had to do all the hard labor in this family.

They really didn’t have many resources in the medbay. Although it was high up on his list, Donnie hadn’t really gotten to properly stock it yet, mostly due to how difficult it was to gain access to the resources. He worked with what he had— poured peroxide on his skinned knees and the bite, wrapped it because he didn’t like looking at it, and then put a hoodie on because it was cold. Why was it so cold?

He scratched the inside of his wrist and went to go look at the heating, which seemed to be completely operational. Odd. Maybe his blood sugar was low. They were going to order pizza again today, anyway, because they didn’t have much around the house except for snack food at the moment. He could wait a few hours.

He tapped on his vambrace to open his spreadsheet of tasks. He was about fifteen percent of the way through the overall workload, which had been creeping agonizingly slow. Next time Raph told him to come patrolling he’d decline. He was not having another shit bucket incident. 

Right, yes. The plumbing.

Time to get back to work.

“Doooo~oonnie,” Leo singsonged, swaggering into the doorway and leaning on the frame with his arms crossed. “I know you’re like, totally in robot work mode right now, but pizza’s here and Raph’s gonna eat yours if you don’t come get it.”

Donnie sighed and pulled away from the mess of pipes, grabbing a towel to wipe away the grime on his hands. “I’m a bit busy,” he said flatly. “Thank you for the warning, however. Would you ceaselessly complain if I asked you to bring it to me?”

“You make it sound so tempting, but no,” Leo said. “This time I’ll be a trooper, since you’re on getting us access back to beautiful uncontaminated New York tap water. I missed my daily dose of poison. You want meat lovers?”

“Three slices should be efficient,” Donnie replied, even though his body was telling him otherwise. “Also, I’m adding a filtration system this time around, so we shouldn’t have to rely on bottled water ever again.”

“Thank God,” Leo sighed. “I’ll be back in five, since I probably gotta convince Mikey to get off your tail for missing another family dinner.”

“Hm,” Donnie said.

Leo flashed him an ok hand and disappeared again, skipping and humming to himself. Donnie got back to work.

Faintly he registered Leo’s return at the exact five minute mark, because Leo had a sense of humor just as precise and exact as his sometimes. He threw out a comment about it that Donnie didn’t fully register and sat the plate down next to him, blowing a kiss as he left. Donnie aimlessly waved in his direction and groped around for a slice without looking, sticking it in his mouth as he worked with the wrench.

The other two went cold. He didn’t notice.

That was the best thing about working, to him— when he spent enough time doing it, working with his hands turned his brain off. This was all second nature to him, a mindless process that let time breeze past him when it normally inched at a snail’s pace. To his brothers the kind of effort that came second nature to him was Sisphyean, but he supposed that was just the ADHD speaking. He could induce his periods of hyperfocus on his own and they just had to let them come to them. It sounded like a painful existence.

Speaking of. His little brother he hadn’t noticed standing in the doorway, trying to get his attention. How long had he been there?

“Hey Dee?”

“Hm?”

“Um—” Mikey wrung his hands, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I know you’ve been busy,” an understatement, “but we’re doing a movie night. We went out and got new batteries for the projector and everything! If you want you can come have first—”

“Apologies, Angelo,” Donnie cut him off, keeping his voice soft. “Normally I would accept your request, but I’ve almost wrapped up here, and I have to get working on the electricity as soon as possible. You understand.”

“Yeah,” Mikey said, looking dejected. “I get it, um…”

He kept standing in the doorway, shuffling. Donnie elected to ignore him and threw himself back into his task, a little more intentional now that the haze of work had been interrupted. Every noise Mikey was making was shotgun-loud in his ears. He wished he’d leave.

“Can I have a hug?” Mikey asked softly.

Donnie paused and stopped to scratch at his arm. He didn’t turn to look at him, not wanting to see the kind of expression that must be on his face. Mikey clung when he asked for a hug like that. It was very likely a ploy to drag him to rest.

“It can wait,” Donnie dismissed. “Go enjoy yourself. I will be fine here.”

Mikey made a tiny kicked puppy sound and obeyed. Donnie heard his footsteps as he walked down the hall and sighed in relief, the tension in his shoulders loosening. He hadn’t realized how wound up his muscles were. His arm was itching badly, which was distracting. 

He didn’t allow himself to feel bad. He’d be giving them a working toilet soon, which was so much more important than sitting around and watching Jupiter Jim, as much as he enjoyed it. They’d appreciate him skipping when they bore the fruits of his labor.

At least, they would in their heads, Donnie hoped. Maybe he wouldn’t hear a single thing about it, but he knew they’d at least be thinking it. He had to pretend that was enough.

(He’d always been a horrible liar.)

Working water. Proper connection to the sewer system. Filtration so they wouldn’t have to drink tap. The ability to actually properly shower instead of taking a dip in the Hudson river like cavemen.

A pervasive itch that wouldn’t go away.

God, that part was annoying. He’d hoped properly washing his hands (he didn’t want to shower, the comforting weight of his hoodie was one of the only things keeping his sanity intact) would get rid of the feeling, because that kind of skin crawling feeling sometimes resurfaced when he was overstimulated, but it’d done little to abate it.

Oh well. He focused his attention to the security system, because it hadn’t really struck him how important it was until he’d gasped awake from a three hour nap in his lab and gotten straight to work on it. If they were discovered, they might have to relocate again, and if they relocated again—

Donnie was tired of losing things. He was tired of losing people. The most important part of his job was to make pre-emptive efforts to protect his team. Prepare for every contingency, because they didn’t seem very intent on doing it themselves.

Raph asked him to come on patrol. Donnie declined. He itched all over. He was starting to think it was just paranoia causing the feeling (it wasn’t paranoia if it was justified and important for their survival, was it?).

His biggest brother was understanding, at least. He was more of a chronic worrywart than Donnie was, and it was easy to get him to relent when he stated the reason. He wished him luck, because he didn’t get all of that harder stuff but he understood its importance. Donnie forced a smile that he hoped was convincing.

The security system was extra demanding labor that he just wanted to get out of the way. He had to go all along the subway and place sensors in order to pick up any foreign entities stepping within range of the lair. He set up security cameras, fiddled with wiring, stepped deeper and deeper into the subway with only his vambrace as guidance, and by the time he was about forty percent done with the task, he realized it’d been five hours.

His breath caught. Oh, his brothers were going to be freaked out. He’d never hear the end of it. He sank his claws into his arms beneath his sleeves, taking a deep breath to clear his head. He felt like shit, anyway. He hoped he wasn’t falling ill. He couldn’t afford that.

The walk back was not as long; maybe twenty minutes, and by the time he got home he just kind of wanted to collapse. He’d go back to his lab and work in his chair until his energy came back to him. 

The second he crossed the threshold back into the lair, Mikey cried out a, “Donnie!” and attempted to pounce on him. Effortlessly he dodged out of the way with an annoyed sniff. Leo snickered when Mikey hit the floor, struggling back to his feet with worry evident on his face.

“Where were you!?” Mikey exclaimed. “Do you know how long you were gone?! We couldn’t find you!”

“About five and a half hours…” Actually, that was likely a rhetorical question. Mikey stared up at him with big tearful eyes. “I was just setting up the security system. I lost track of time. I issue a formal apology.”

“For the record, I wasn’t worried,” Leo said. “Raph already told us what you were doing. Mikey was just freaked out over nothing.”

“What if he was kidnapped?” Mikey squeaked. 

“Luckily for you, I haven’t been kidnapped,” Donnie said, opening his arms to emphasize how fine he looked. “I am unharmed, as you can see. I need to get back to work.”

“Boo,” Leo grumbled. “It’s like all you do is work these days, man. We got most of the arcade stuff set back up and we’re dangerously bored, don’t you wanna come and play DDR or something?”

Donnie froze. He twitched in agitation and whirled on him. “It’s only because of my work that you’re allowed to plug in the arcade machines at all,” he snarled. “Do you know how long it takes to install electricity? Rhetorical question, because you certainly like to act like you don’t know anything! ”

Leo’s brow ridges rose and he stepped back, pulling his hands to his chest. “Woah,” he said, surprised. “Someone’s grumpy today, huh?”

“You make it so easy, brother,” Donnie snapped.

Mikey grimaced. “Donnie—”

God, he couldn’t take another second of this. His whole body was aching and he was tired and hungry and cold and he just wanted to sit down without being interrogated by Mikey who would diagnose him with thirty disorders and Leo who thought he was the quote-unquote ‘Donnie-whisperer’. He felt set to explode.

“Don’t bother me,” he snarled, dangerously close to a shout. He was terrible at regulating his volume when he was upset. “I won’t lose track of time outside of the lair again, so there’s nothing to worry about! I will correct my behavior, there you go. I’m glad we’ve had this discussion. Bye.”

Mikey opened his mouth to say something, but Donnie wasn’t listening. He turned and stormed in the other direction, deciding to skip dinner so he could stay cooped up away from his stupid dum-dum family who always felt the need to try and drag him away from what really mattered. Did they really care about their own health and safety that little?

Slamming the door to his lab shut was the most cathartic and satisfying he’d felt in a while. He sat and panted, booming in the eerie silence. It was so quiet without S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N there, either whirring while he was charging or even just flying around and talking at him. It was so quiet.

He pinched the bridge of his snout and squeezed his eyes shut, nearly crumbling to his knees. Fireworks of light crackled behind his eyelids as he breathed away the oncoming headache. From stress or sleep-deprivation, he didn’t know. Everything hurt.

He didn’t even know why he was so upset at his brothers for worrying about him. He didn’t know anything anymore, or really have a way to verbalize what was wrong. Everything was wrong and they all seemed so fine with it. Once again, he was the only one unable to let it go. Typical.

The cold dug deep into his bones. The itching felt like fire beneath his skin. He went back to work.

So the scratching was becoming a… problem.

It hadn’t really processed to him originally. When he was stressed, he scratched. The crawl of bugs under his skin was typical of extreme discomfort or long periods of self-induced isolation, and it’s what would induce the habit. Usually it wouldn’t do more than leave a few red marks, and even then that was at the most. 

The thing was… it’s not like he meant to harm himself. And putting it into words made it sound horrible, but he was honest when he told himself that. When he pulled up his sleeves, he genuinely gaped at the long, sluggishly bleeding cuts littered all across his forearms. He almost dropped his hot soldering iron on his foot, which would have been very bad.

It only registered to him that he’d been doing it ceaselessly for the past three days or so. The ache had set in deep and spread across his whole body, but he hadn’t shown any other signs of illness, so he hadn’t really done anything about it. So he’d scratched. The ache got worse. He’d scratched.

He should probably go to the medbay.

He really didn’t want to run into Leo, though. Leo had a habit of pointing out his problems and pushing his boundaries to get his way, and if he got one whiff of this he would probably try to drag Donnie away from his work or pull him into a whole family interrogation event. Those were nasty. He hated them.

But he couldn’t just passively destroy himself because of his anxiety, that would be stupid. What he’d been doing up to that point had logical reasoning— the output of his work was better for long-term and short-term purposes. It was just so easy to say it would make his family happiest.

(He was always a horrible liar. Would they ever be happy with him around?)

Well, he was a ninja for a reason. He made the trip to the medbay quick, carefully sticking to the shadows and hiding the second he heard anyone in the distance. He didn’t want to see any of his family right now. The other two were currently on his shitlist and Raph would probably manhandle him to bed, which would be terribly inconvenient.

The fast and easy mission was a success. He took a bottle of peroxide and a roll of bandages with him to his lab and worked there, pushing some of the blueprints on his desk to the side so he could work. Nothing necessitated stitches. It looked worse than it was. It hurt like a bitch, along with everything else.

He felt lethargic. His lab was a mess, because he hadn’t been bothered to clean it up with the exhaustion and all of the work. It was so unlike him, he realized. If his brothers saw this, they’d think something was seriously wrong.

When he stood, his knees shook like a baby deer’s. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, and he had to take a moment to just breathe. Something was pooling in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t discern, icy and alarming, and that something was telling him he probably had to go and get help.

His last lab was destroyed. For a second time, Shredder had ripped through everything he’d worked so hard on like paper. His new one was so unfinished, unfit to protect him. It made him feel open like an exposed nerve, and yet it was also the safest place he felt like he had.

(He couldn’t tell them. There was too much to do.)

Painstakingly slow, Donnie cleaned his lab.

“Donnie,” a harsh voice called. “When’s the last time you slept, bud?”

Donnie jumped in shock and dropped his pen. He didn’t comment on it, because there was a very substantial chance that Raph had loudly made his presence known and he was just zoning out. Again. Because the answer to his question was a long time ago.

“Does it matter?” he asked instead. “I’m busy.”

“Sure,” Raph growled. “But we got rules about this kinda thing for a reason. You’re gonna knock yourself out again.”

Ah. He unfortunately had a point. The last few times Donnie had done this, he’d found himself down for the count for way too long. It’d seriously messed with his productivity. Burnout was a fickle thing.

But he wanted to live in denial, just this once. “I don’t care. There’s too much to do.”

“It can wait for the mornin’,” Raph mumbled, sounding sleepy. Had Donnie woken him up with the noise? He’d just have to soundproof his lab. He’d do that for him. “It’s not gonna go away just ‘cause you slept for a few hours.”

“...You’re right,” Donnie ventured.

“And your battle shell,” Raph said, stepping over. “Last time you took it off?”

“Why are you interrogating me?”

“‘Cause I love you and I’m worried about you,” Raph said. “Actually, you’re worryin’ me. Leo an’ Mikey told me you got real snippy with ‘em last night.”

“Snitches get stitches,” Donnie growled. “Well, disregard them. I am the ultimate authority on my own wellbeing, and I say I’m fine. Go back to bed. I’ll keep the noise down.”

Raph sighed. “Who’d I piss off above to get a bunch of little brothers this stubborn?” he asked himself, sounding fed up. Donnie’s heart twisted. It resurfaced old, ancient shame he’d buried deep for a very good reason. His arms hurt. “I am gonna carry you if you don’t get up an’ go to bed right now. I’m not askin’.”

Donnie paused. Stubbornly took it as a question anyway. Turned back to his work.

Then Raph reached out and touched his bicep.

The all-consuming lick of flame beneath his skin abated, and it hurt. It was the same kind of feeling as taking a breath after being seconds away from drowning. Donnie gasped like his head had just broken the surface, yelp dying in his throat as the shock paralyzed him. He summoned a mechanical arm on his battle shell and shoved.

“Don’t touch me!” he yelled.

Raph stumbled. He caught himself on the wall with one hand to stop himself from falling backwards, steadying himself and looking Donnie dead in the eye. The Raph-Chasm™ made its deadly appearance as he stared at him.

“Donnie—” he began, so soft and concerned.

“Fine,” Donnie bit out. “If you desperately want me to stop working, fine. But I do not want to hear a single complaint out of your mouth about the utilities not working properly tomorrow, or I will hit you.”

Raph didn’t look intimidated in the slightest. “If you’re sure—”

The mechanical arm disappeared back into his shell. Just to make a point, he took the mechanical shell off under his hoodie, letting it drop to the floor, loud enough to cut Raph off. He waved jazz hands and tucked it under his arm as he turned and walked out of his lab, pointedly not looking at Raph. His chest vibrated with a growl. His tail lashed.

“Sleep well, Don,” Raph mumbled.

“Sure,” Donnie growled half-hearted agreement. “You too.”

Raph didn’t respond. Donnie looked over his shoulder to see him staring intently at the peroxide and bandages on his desk. He whipped back around and picked up the pace, speed walking back to his room. 

The pain came back in full throttle. His nerves were shot. He scratched at the still open wounds under the bandages, walking into his sterile, barren bedroom. He hadn’t gotten a chance to really live in it. He’d been so busy.

Donnie plopped down into his cold bed, set his battle shell to lean against it, and then opened the screen on his vambrace to reorder the list of tasks. He dragged soundproof lab and put lock on lab door to the top of his sheet, and elected to get to them immediately the moment he woke up tomorrow.

He woke up two hours later from a nightmare.

He went to work.

Gram Gram had called his tech brilliant.

It was the ghost that guided his hands as he diligently soldered wires, hammered nails, fastened bolts and screws. It haunted his every action, kept him up at night, kept him going. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant.

It was hours before his failure had killed her, and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N with it. He’d buried their bodies and the words were the only thing that kept him from shaking apart.

Leo had said it was his fault, because he’d sent Gram Gram into his old lab, expecting her to be well protected. Donnie took it as it was— it was Leo’s fault for expecting success from Donnie’s work, because he should have known better. Maybe it was, but Donnie hadn’t gotten angry at him, because that didn’t make Leo the one in the wrong, did it?

So, so hilarious, in a cosmic sense, that Donnie’s eternal curse was being too much, always too much, so easy to get sick of and throw away like a used tissue, but when it came to what was really important, he wasn’t nearly enough. He couldn’t even perform the thing that made him worth being alive. Fucking figures.

(Sometimes, after long binges of sleeplessness, he would ask himself what is the point of living if I’m just going to fail anyway? He didn’t have an answer for himself. He didn’t want the answer his brothers would give him. He didn’t want to have to change.

A deeper, more terrifying part of him didn’t want to be convinced to keep going at all.)

Brilliant. He’d failed her, fundamentally. He’d failed his son, and his father (from the very beginning) and his brothers. He’d always been the weakest, the softest, the most fragile. In the midst of a fight, they’d always closed ranks around him when things got tough, sometimes more than Mikey. He was a ball and chain that dragged them down into the water. A robot that couldn’t properly recite its programming.

Or maybe that was just the pain speaking. He couldn’t tell anymore. It certainly felt true.

Really, he knew there was nothing he could do about it. There was something broken from the beginning. There was a good reason he was his father’s least favorite son, and why every adult that had praised him had proceeded to hurt him or, in one case, die due to his failure and lack of responsibility.

But that didn’t stop him from trying. He’d show her brilliant. He’d keep what he had left so safe that they wouldn’t even notice his absence. Create protocol after protocol, just in case something like this happened again.

It wasn’t until he was on his newly configured computer, programming a protocol meant to activate in case of his own death, that he realized something about the burning, agonizing pain was wrong. He’d had the kind of illness that would create full body aches, but this was different.

His bicep throbbed. He’d been reopening the wounds on his forearms over and over, which was whatever, but he hadn’t touched the bandages on the bite. He’d honestly forgotten about it.

Something in his brain pinged. Horror crashed into him and nearly made him topple over.

Donnie wrestled himself out of his hoodie.

He froze as he stared at the slowly unraveling bandages on his bicep, because oh. 

Oh.

Crawling out from beneath the white bandages were glowing marks that matched the arrangement of his veins. They were glowing a sickly, dark dark violet. They had creeped all the way up to his shoulder by now, pulsing painfully.

It looked like something he’d see in a zombie movie— an undeniably mystic infection. He ripped off the bandages to take a look at the bite, and it proved to be just as disgusting. It was growing brightly. The sight of it made his gut churn. He wanted to vomit.

It seemed the yokai that bit him had done it for a reason. He wished he’d bitten her harder back. Or perhaps gone for something softer.

God, he didn’t have time to be cursed. He was in the middle of fixing up the old broken washing machine, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know the cause or the cure and he couldn’t, he couldn’t stop now, if his brothers knew—

He genuinely threw up in his mouth for a moment. He clapped his hand over his mouth and wheezed, the anxiety only exacerbating the burning, burning pain. He’d dismissed it mostly out of frustration before, and now it’d festered, gotten worse and worse. Would it continue to get worse? Was there anything worse than this?

He racked his brain, mentally logging his symptoms. It started with the cold, and then the itch, and then the ache, and for a single moment he’d noticed a difference, when Raph had touched his arm and everything had unraveled, and…

Something about it made him even more sick. Did physical touch abate his symptoms? He couldn’t make a proper conclusion without more than one data point, but he was not interested in testing his hypothesis. Even besides the fact that it was deeply embarrassing, he also just could not be hanging off of them when he had so much to do. He hadn’t earned it yet.

His entire body throbbed. He caught a hand on his chest and heaved, shivering all over and falling to his knees. The anxiety tore him apart. It made him gasp and cry out into the floor, making him deeply grateful that he had soundproofed his lab.

God, he was going to be sick. He was going to be sick right now.

Donnie shot to his feet and bolted to the corner of his lab, vomiting into the trash can. He clutched the sides, hiccuped and dry heaved again when he smelled it, tasting bile. Tears dripped down his chin to join the mess. His eyes burned.

He was so tired. He was so tired, all the time. He was exhausted. The curse creeped up his skin and he felt it now that he was paying attention. He heaved out the last remains of last night’s meager serving of dinner that he’d barely managed to peck at, sniffling pathetically. 

He had to pull away and sit against the wall, breathing hard, to push away the oncoming panic attack. Eventually he calmed himself down through resignation alone, the healing realization that crying and panicking wasn’t going to fix the situation. It was low on the priority list.

As long as he could work, that’s all that mattered. Maybe he hadn’t worked through worse, but he’d done just fine through the unbearable grief before the bite, and before that, through bruises and migraines and days of no sleep and those horrendous scratches on his shell that he’d hidden— he could handle it.

The pain clouded his mind. He put on his hoodie through a sluggish haze, not even bothering to put a bandage back over the bite. He crinkled his snout in disgust at the mess he’d made all over his old blueprints (what if he needed those?) and returned to fixing the washing machine, desperate to have something to present to his brothers in case they found out about his situation anyway.

He’d have to make it up to them in advance, so they wouldn’t get fed up with him. That was what most of this was for, after all.

The pervasive feeling of wrongness that came with walking around the lair was only more noticeable when he didn’t have the energy to try and think logically about it.

It was so easy to tell himself it was an adjustment when he wasn’t out of his mind with pain. But when he operated on empty, using muscle memory to navigate his work, it was a lot more difficult. All sensory input is coming through a haze, like he wasn’t really feeling it. In the old lair, he’d be able to get around like it's nothing no matter how dissociative he was. Now he found himself clumsily stumbling into things, only really able to correct himself when one of his family members was around and that be normal and not weird impulse clamped down and overrode everything else.

And it wasn’t like Donnie wasn’t clumsy. Dyspraxia was frequently comorbid with autism, he’d learned. It was very likely they all had it, actually. But it was getting harder and harder to walk upright with the same kind of smoothness he’d operated with prior.

Which made it predictable, but also very embarrassing, when Mikey had cleared his throat in the doorway and Donnie had dropped the lightbulb he was holding onto the floor. The glass shattered and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Well,” he said, flat. “Shit. Hm.”

Mikey let out a little choked laugh. As terrible as Donnie was with social cues, even he could tell it was forced. Leo would have pounced on it like a shark smelling blood in the water if he were here. “Sorry for spooking you, Dee,” he mumbled, a bit timid.

“You did not spook me,” Donnie corrected. “I am unable to be ‘spooked’. I merely dropped that lightbulb because I had deemed it was unfit for the lamp I was fixing.” Nailed it.

“It looked fine to me?” Mikey sounded amused.

“Fine? Angelo, it broke,” Donnie scoffed. He scratched at his arm and tried not to wince too noticeably. “I’ll get a new one. It’s fine. Do you need me for something? Is the projector having issues again? I noticed it’d been blinking, if you want I can go and—”

“No, no!” Mikey squeaked. “You’re good, Dee! I kinda just wanted to apologize? For what happened a while ago, when you went to go work on the stuff.”

Donnie had almost forgotten. Ever since he’d been cursed, time was going too fast and too slow. It felt like that’d happened years ago, even though it’d only been… what, four days? Maybe five. But his little brother was upset, so he’d appease him. That’s what mattered.

“I was mostly upset with Leo,” Donnie dismissed, moving to scoop up the glass shards. He’d handle the lamp later. There were more important priorities anyway. “You didn’t do much wrong in the first place, there’s nothing wrong with being worried for me—” (he’d always been a horrible liar) “—but if you find it reassuring, I accept your apology. Do you need something?”

Mikey bit his lip, his eyes darting away like he was ashamed. Aha.

“You do,” Donnie said matter-of-factly. “I exist to be bothered, Michael, no guilty faces. We’ve discussed this. What is it?”

“Do you wanna come to dinner?” Mikey asked, timid. “Since the kitchen’s working now, and— I can make your favorites! And— and… you just…” he hung his head, staring at the floor, “you haven’t come for a family meal in two weeks.”

Donnie blinked. “Mikey, I’m busy. I’m not upset with you.”

Mikey’s eyes sharpened. “You can be busy and eat,” he said, a little knowing. 

“I am eating,” Donnie shot back, lying through his fucking teeth. “I already ate, actually. I’m not hungry.”

Doctor Feelings seemed appeased by the declaration, but Mikey still seemed suspicious, a little pouty. “I believe you,” he said, in the kind of tone that meant he really didn’t. “Can you at least come next time?”

No. He could not pretend around them for that long. What if one of them brushed against his leg? What if one of them hugged him? He’d melt, he’d never be able to move, he’d need them— “We’ll see. Maybe.”

Mikey gave a little relieved sigh, because a maybe from Donnie usually meant yes, at least when it came to him. Little did he know that this was the one exception. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Mhm.” A strike of pain shot down his spine, and he shivered.

“Are you cold?” Mikey asked.

“The heating is adequate,” Donnie replied, skirting around the question with the grace of a gold medalist. “I am the one who built it, after all. Are you having problems with the heater? I could always give it another once-over.”

“It’s fine,” Mikey dismissed. “You just looked kinda cold. Are you okay?”

God no. Bit by bit he was unraveling. It was laborious just to breathe. Every time he looked at the spreadsheet he wanted to cry, even if it’d been so digestible when he’d first set it up. There was so much to do and so little of Donnie left. But he forced a smile anyway, drawn a little taut, unusual on his face. It felt and probably looked so off.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said, soft. “I am handling it.”

Mikey nodded slowly, utterly trusting in him. He had reason to be— when it came to this, Donnie did not lie. He was handling it, even if poorly. He would feel horrible to make his only little brother worry over something so fixable.

(When was the last time he’d actually eaten a full meal? He couldn’t recall.)

His shoulders were starting to chafe.

Really, Donnie only took his shell off when he was comfortable, and the overwhelming discomfort of both the bite and the relocation made the task feel impossible. All it took was him putting his hands on the straps and pulling it off. Every time he considered it, his breath caught.

It was a bit of an ironic fear to have when he was in the medbay, restocking and rechecking supplies. It was probably the safest place in the new lair, because he had easy access to help if something were to happen. And he had a Leo, who had decided to assist him for that hour’s task.

Well, kind of. Leo was not being helpful. He was mostly just reorganizing all of the supplies the second Donnie put him down, which was aggravating. Although he decided not to get upset at him for it, considering it was his domain, and he didn’t like to cross into it. 

Except for the elephant in the room. Leo asked, after the sixteenth time getting in the way and moving things, “I’m just noticing, we don’t have any of those old painkillers anymore. When are you gonna get around to making ‘em?”

Donnie paused. He couldn’t help but wonder if they would work on his current situation, although it was unlikely, because it was a curse. “It’s high up on the list,” he replied, voice devoid of any emotion.

“How high?” Leo asked, an edge of nervousness in his voice. “We’re still patrolling, you know. Even if you’re not comin’ to work on all this stuff. What if one of us gets seriously hurt?”

“High enough, thank you for the concern,” Donnie dismissed. “I’ll get to it. If you want, I can bump it up, but it’s not exactly easy.”

“You never struggled with it before,” Leo replied. 

Ah, the consequences of flying too close to the sun, crowing too much about his genius. He supposed it made sense that his brothers had begun to see him as infallible. It meant what he was doing was working. He took Leo’s words as appreciative ones. It was the closest thing he’d gotten in a while, so he mentally latched onto it. Now he just had to do something impressive.

“I’m not going to start now,” Donnie clapped back, forcing pride into his expression. “I’m just saying it’s time-consuming, and I’ve put our quality of life as top priority.”

“Makes sense,” Leo said, sounding bored. “You get to it, nerd.”

“Hm,” Donnie replied, and that was that.

He didn’t leave the lair to get new materials. Although he’d excused his new self-induced house arrest with I’m busy and cannot distract myself at the moment, it was more related to the fact that he’d been in too much pain to walk. It was hard enough to force himself to walk through the lair when things got especially bad. Deeply embarrassing. 

But for Leo? He would try.

(He finally managed to take the leap and take off his battle shell, only once after the few hours of he’d gotten of sleep at Raph’s request. His shoulders were scraped up and there was nasty bruising all the way down his shell, because it would always bruise no matter how much he padded it.

He couldn’t reach around to put a salve on the bruises himself, and he certainly couldn’t ask one of his brothers. He couldn’t let them touch him. And building a machine to do it for him was out of the question at the moment. There was too much to do to make something so meaningless.

Donnie whimpered when he slipped it back on. He took a deep breath and bore the weight with everything else, no matter how much his shoulders and back ached. It almost felt like nothing compared to the pain everywhere.

He’d already submitted himself years ago to being his family’s Atlas, punished to eternally hold up the sky. Although he supposed they all were, in many different ways.)

When he slapped down the vials of painkillers on the table, Leo sighed in relief.

“Thank God,” Leo said. “Now I can put you all under for my evil experiments. I mean, what?”

“Don’t steal my thing,” Donnie grumbled. “Is that all you needed?”

“Your thing’s so cool when it’s done by literally anyone but you,” Leo retorted, and then raised the ridges of his brows. “Also, uh, yeah, that was high priority and whatever. You not gonna like… gloat about it? Sing your own praises a little? My ear is open.”

When Donnie just stared at him, he rolled his eyes like he was genuinely pissed off at him. “Annoy me, Tello, for the love of God. You’ve been all freaky lately. What’s wrong with you?”

Donnie turned and left the room without a word.

The pain was unchangeable, a fact of life. It only got worse and worse as he sank deeper and deeper. But every other decision with his body? That was something he could moderate, as carefully and meticulously as he wanted to.

He wasn’t going to count calories or anything, he wasn’t that far gone with this newfound habit. That kind of thing would imply he had an eating disorder— which was untrue. He was just taking what he could of his body back while he waited for the venom to pass through. But he had started to find hunger comforting in the face of debilitating pain.

The hole in his stomach made his legs shake, sure, but he could still walk. Every little sacrifice was worth it if he could still walk and work, without the quality of his work being hurt. And because his brothers hadn’t said anything about it, he could easily assume that’d been the case. Something about emptiness he had control over was comforting in his pain-clouded mind. It was something to focus on to block out everything else.

The Donnie of two weeks ago likely would have found his behavior alarming. The Donnie of now, undeniably the most efficient version of himself, was proud of his own decision-making. He worked hard to keep his path of self-improvement linear, and it was working. He’d calculated it, and his family had been 32.7% more satisfied on average with the results of his work on the lair.

Of course, they hadn’t told him, but Donnie had eyes. He could observe it. He wasn’t asking for thanks or open appreciation— he knew people only did that when they wanted something more from him or wanted to hurt him. Knowing they were content without him because of his actions was all that mattered.

(He missed praise. He missed turtle piles, and pizza weeks, and movie nights where they watched his favorites and actually engaged with them. He missed karaoke and DDR and biweekly Powerpoint nights where he deliberately picked the most moronic topic to rant about like a madman, just to revel in the sound of Leo shrieking with laughter.

And God, he missed S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, so so much. Something had broken in him when he’d found his AI chip in the rubble, unsalvageable. Something about the grief of it all had made everything feel worthless. He didn’t deserve that kind of happiness for the son he had failed. Even if he yearned for it—that didn’t really matter anymore, did it? It was gone.)

So he kept going. He returned to his work on the security system, even if he had to support himself by clinging to the wall before he sent up sensors and cameras. It was embarrassing, sure, but nobody was around to see it, so he didn’t let himself worry about it all that much. The subways were long and treacherous, but he’d mapped them out day one, when he’d first started assigning everyone rooms and setting up the medbay for Dad.

And then, in the far southeast tunnels, something had happened.

He couldn’t describe it. He was as fine as he could be considering the circumstances, and then suddenly the pain had exploded. He’d dropped to his knees like a stone and doubled over, clutching his stomach and hanging his head. He covered his mouth with one hand, desperately willing himself not to vomit.

It was an inferno in his veins. The wildfire had spread from head to tail tip, shattering his resolve to stay upright. A scream rang into the empty air, breathless and agonized, and he hadn’t even registered he was the one making that sound until it died in his throat.

God, he could barely move. He had to throw an arm out to brace against the wall as he curled up in the fetal position, digging his face into his knees with a hiccuping wail. All of the materials he’d needed for his task were strewn about next to him, and he was acting like a baby, freaking out over nothing. This was why he’d always been considered the weak one.

“It hurts,” he whimpered out loud into the darkness, just because he needed to say it. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—”

It felt like admitting defeat to say it out loud, but he didn’t have the energy to be ashamed of himself. Tears streamed down his face. He hadn’t cried this much consecutively since he was very young, he’d usually gone years between fits of tears. He hadn’t cried when Gram Gram died. He’d only cried a little when he found her corpse, and then S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N’s. So why was he being a baby now? Selfish, selfish, selfish—

Mikey had always said tears were meant to be cathartic, healing. He’d told Donnie repeatedly that it was good to identify and let himself feel his feelings. Crying into his knees in the dark, an hour’s walk away from his family, he felt his conviction in his brother start to shake. It didn’t help his mental state at all. It just hurt.

He laid there, shaking and crying and alone, digging claws into his arms in desperate hope that the controllable pain would clear his fucking head, until the episode(?) passed, receding into its old, natural burn. He tugged at the collar of his hoodie to look at the magic veins, shivering nervously when he’d noticed they’d creeped up to his collarbone and were approaching his throat. It wouldn’t be long until he couldn’t hide it. Would it kill him?

He wanted to live in denial for a little longer, at least. Body quaking, he lifted himself back to his feet with a huge wet sniffle, wiped away all the disgusting fluid on his face, and began his trek back to the lair. He’d made great progress today, and he needed to sit down. He couldn’t let his brothers see him so messed up, but really, that was something he had control over too.

Donnie had put a lock on his lab door for a reason.

Was it selfish to work exclusively on rebuilding his tech when it had a more long-term positive impact on his family?

Donnie was too tired, too hungry, too sleepless and dissociative, to give one half of a shit. He’d mostly held it off before, and the fact that he couldn’t be around his brothers at all gave him an excuse to really throw himself into it. So he went into the kitchen, pocketed a few water bottles, fixed himself a cup of coffee, and then locked himself into his lab.

He got to work.

He worked. He worked. He worked. He collapsed into a heap and gasped through debilitating episodes. He allowed himself a few baby sips of water. He kept working, because every moment he spent still was another one where he had to process the pain.

Chances are, he probably slept in little bursts. Sleep deprivation would usually lead to little periods of microsleep, which was his body and brain’s way of coping with exhaustion. He’d actually learned that when researching for Leo. It’d just started to become relevant for him over time. So technically, he was sleeping, nothing to worry about.

(He’d always been a horrible liar.)

Maybe he even napped at one point. It wasn’t like he knew. Time bled together, started and stopped randomly, as he worked. He spent the most of the time he had throwing himself into it, building new machines and protocols and upgrading his upgrading and thinking about brilliant, brilliant, brilliant as he slowly fell apart. 

One cup of coffee was barely enough to keep him awake. Honestly, he couldn’t have slept anyway, not unless his body waved the white flag against his consent. The pain was so much that he wouldn’t be able to rest no matter what he did. So he was making the most of his circumstances.

He didn’t even have an end goal in sight anymore. Before, it’d been easy, even if the longevity of it all had scared him. Finish the goals on the spreadsheet. But now sixty-five percent of the way through all of his important tasks, he’d just stopped. The only thing on his mind now was work work work don’t think about it just keep going until it kills you. Leave behind as much of an impact as you can—

(Was he dying?)

By the time he finally pulled away and realized he was definitely going to need more coffee, it’d been three days holed up in his lab, without food, without his brothers. He could barely think in coherent sentences. His lab was a disaster again. But lucky for him, at least, cleaning it back up was a new task.

He felt hot all over, stumbling as he stood. He hadn’t been ill before, but he absolutely was now, because he’d been flipping between periods of sweating and dealing with chills for the past eight hours or so. A low grade fever, most likely. Although his sinuses felt fine, so maybe it was curse-induced? He was too exhausted to come to any conclusions.

Donnie put pretty much every last bit of energy he had into perfecting his gait as he unlocked and left his lab. He couldn’t stop the shaking for several reasons, but he hoped to God that pulling his hood over his head to hide the veins of the curse be enough to hide everything else. 

The lair was suspiciously quiet when he left his lab. It was evening time, and they wouldn’t start patrol for another few hours. Normally there’d be noise coming from somewhere, at least the arcade room. If he strained to listen, he could distantly hear Dad’s TV, at least. 

Oh well. The new lair hadn’t felt like a home anyway. He’d think about it later after a cup of coffee. He kept up his walk of shame to the kitchen, having to lean on the wall for a bit of support and hoping to God he wouldn’t have another attack.

“—can’t just do nothing!”

Donnie froze, immediately stopping to eavesdrop.

There were voices coming from the kitchen. 

“You think I like this anymore than you do, Miguel?” Leo’s voice, tight with nervousness and anger. “This wouldn’t be a problem if Raph just Kool-Aid Man’d the door!”

“You know why Raph ain’t doin’ that!” Raph snapped back. “He hates when I do that, and I don’t wanna give him anything more that he gotta fix!”

“It’s been days!” Leo argued, voice pitching hysterically. 

“It’s been weeks,” Mikey added, choked up. “I don’t know what’s been going on with him, but he’s just… it feels like he’s gone. He hasn’t been hanging out at all, and I couldn’t even cheer him up, and he won’t even… I don’t think he’s been eating , dude.”

The kitchen plunged into silence for a moment. Leo’s breath tore through him audibly, and Donnie would have flinched at the sound were he more lucid. He hated hearing his twin upset, especially when he’d been so good at never losing his cool.

“What would we even do if we got him out of his lab?” Raph asked, soft. “You know how bad Don is at listenin’ to us when he’s set on somethin’. He only went to bed that one time cause he got upset with me.”

“Fuck,” Leo keened. “God. I don’t know. I don’t know. I just— I want my Donnie back.”

Donnie couldn’t listen to this anymore. He skittishly stepped back, cupped a hand over his mouth to take a deep breath, and then exaggerated his oncoming footsteps so they’d fall silent.

He didn’t even look at them as he made a slow beeline to the coffee pot, happy to find one premade. Probably because Leo liked drinking it late for ADHD reasons.

“Evening, gentlemen,” he said, a little forced as he moved to grab for a mug.

“Donnie,” Raph breathed. “You— you—”

“Where have you been?” Leo snapped, any sign of the distress Donnie heard earlier gone. “Well, okay, rhetorical question, I know where you’ve been. Why the hell were you in your lab for three whole days, Donnie?”

“Busy,” he replied shortly, pouring himself a cup. The scratches on his arms stung.

“Doing what?” Mikey’s voice pitched dangerously. 

“Work.”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit,” Leo stepped in front of him as he tried to leave. Desperately trying to avoid being touched, Donnie flinched back. “You don’t lock yourself in your lab for three days for no reason. You need to talk to us if shit’s getting bad.”

“Well, it’s not,” Donnie retorted, but the shake in his voice was unmistakable. “Nothing to worry about, I am the ultimate authority on my own wellbeing. Move, please. I have the decency to ask instead of shouting at you.”

Leo didn’t move. Donnie tried to step around him, and Leo just moved in his way again, the bastard. His face was determined and searching, and Donnie wasn’t super intent on sticking around and waiting for him to find what he was looking for.

“Donnie,” Raph said, so soft. “Talk to us. Please.”

It hurt. It hurt too much for him to keep coherent. The nausea surged in his guts. Raph and Mikey were closing ranks around him, and with Leo they’d practically backed him into a corner. He was shaking apart. He was coming undone.

“I—” he choked. “I– I don’t—”

“What’s been going on?” Mikey asked, sweet and innocent. “Did something happen? We can– we can help! That’s what brothers do for each other, right?”

Did something happen was such a vague question. Nothing had happened. Everything had happened. There was no undoing death, or fixing what was fundamentally broken within him from the start. They couldn’t do anything for him— that was his job. And they certainly couldn’t know about this.

“It’s just— the lair,” Donnie started, swallowing heavily. Leo stepped a little closer and his eyes flitted aimlessly in his direction. His vision was blurry. Everything was starting to tilt at the edges. “I’ve been working on– on the lair. It’s for you guys , why—”

“For fuck’s—” Leo sounded enraged, suddenly. “We don’t WANT YOU TO!”

Donnie froze and stared at him. His unsteady breathing climbed into gasps and hiccups. He bumped against the counter as he backed away, heart shattering in two. Blood roared in his ears. His eyes burned with his everything. He couldn’t breathe—

Leo’s anger shifted into surprise. Raph and Mikey backed up, similarly alarmed and horrified. Was Donnie crying? He couldn’t tell. He’d been doing that so much lately that he couldn’t even recognize the feeling anymore.

“Donnie?” Mikey asked, hollow with horror.

“I—” Donnie clutched his hoodie, feeling the desperate heaving of his chest, the pounding of his heart against his ribs. “I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t apologized so blatantly, so directly, in years. It used to be all he did. As he grew up, he’d made it so he didn’t need to. Show don’t tell— he would always have something to give them a reason for him wasting their time. The apology was silent and unspoken.

But… we don’t want you to. Was that not enough anymore? He didn’t know. He tore himself apart for them for weeks and they didn’t even care. He’d lied to himself this whole time, hoping desperately that their appreciation went unsung because they were thinking it. He calculated their satisfaction. He paid close attention to every smile in his direction, everything close to a good word he got, every tiny scrap of praise, as he worked ceaselessly on the lair.

He’d failed, and now he was reaping the consequences. The burden of dealing with him was too much, and what he’d given in exchange for it would never, ever make up for the trouble he’d caused. And it hurt so much. Everything hurt.

They were all staring at him, shocked. They stared. Donnie stared a hole into the far wall and tried to take his mind far, far from here.

“Donnie,” Raph choked. “Kid, no—”

“I’m sorry,” Donnie repeated. It was all he could think to say. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

With a hiccuping sob, he reached up to wipe futilely at the cascade of tears streaking down his face. He was such an embarrassment . Reaching up rolled his hoodie sleeve up, revealing a flash of the bloodied bandages on his arms. Leo’s eyes widened.

“Tello,” he said, slowly as he let it process, his eyes blown wide. “What is that?”

No. No. No nonononono. They couldn’t know they couldn’t know—

“Let me go,” Donnie said, a soft warning. 

They continued to stare at him in numb horror, like he was some kind of freakshow circus animal. Donnie hated being stared at. His skin prickled. The bite on his bicep throbbed. If he stayed for another minute he was going to collapse.

“No, I think we’re talking about this,” Leo growled, voice hard and matter-of-fact. His gaze sharpened and he stepped forward again. Donnie couldn’t scramble backwards any further. “You can’t run away from us again.”

“Let me go,” Donnie repeated, firmer.

Leo’s hand shot out like a snake and wrapped around Donnie’s wrist. Through the sleeve it aggravated the wounds on his arm, but it didn’t even matter compared to the jolt in his body, the way the pain sung, boiled, evaporated, and it hurt, hurt, hurt—

The mug shattered deafeningly on the tile as Donnie dropped it, scattering shards everywhere.

The tension in the room exploded with the force of a nuclear bomb.

Donnie used every last bit of strength he had and twisted around to sock Leo dead in the eye.

“Oh shit!” Mikey shrieked.

Leo yelped, let go, and fell backwards with an agonized grimace, giving Donnie an opening that he took without hesitation. With energy he didn’t even know he still possessed, he skittered across the floor, dodged Raph’s hands as he reached for him with a worried shout, and tore himself through the lair and back into his lab.

Shouts of his name followed him. Donnie didn’t look back. He slammed the lab door behind him and collapsed to the floor, clawing and tearing at the side of his neck where the veins climbed up dangerously towards his jawline.

“Shuh—shh— S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N—” he gasped through his whines and keens. “The lab door, lock the lab door, lock the—”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N was dead. The memory tore through him like shrapnel, causing another wave of involuntary tears. Donnie struggled back to his feet and slammed his palm down on the button, reinforcing his security systems, keeping them out, trapping him in here for as long as he wanted. Which was forever.

The sound of the lock slamming down sounded like he’d secured himself in his own tomb.

It certainly felt like it.

He fell back down on his knees, spiraling rapidly and bracing himself on the floor with his hands. Tears and drool and snot made a mess inches below his face as he sobbed and cried and succumbed to the pain. The nausea rolled. Something was wrong. Something was more wrong than everything else. It sunk its claws deep into the back of his skull.

He cried out for help that wouldn’t come, a high, shivering mewl that he hadn’t repeated since he was a tot. The kind of sound that, if vocalized by one of them, would always have the others rushing to their side immediately. But he’d soundproofed his lab. No one was coming for him. His eyes rolled back in his head as he lost his iron grip on his consciousness.

He collapsed to the floor in a pile of twitching limbs.

He convulsed.

Everything was fuzzy and quiet.

For a long moment, Donnie couldn’t even discern where he was. He opened his half-lidded eyes and stared at the far wall, unblinking, for several seconds. His mind was a blur. His head throbbed more than usual, but everything was doing that lately, so it didn’t really mean much.

He chirped and trilled in desperation. Where were his brothers? He needed them. Why weren’t they here for him? They’d make the pain go away, right? The curse—

No.

He was alone. He’d put himself there. He was laying on his lab floor, a foam of spit against his lips, shaking like someone in the early stages of hypothermia as his fever cooked him alive. He was supposed to be working, wasn’t he? Why the fuck was he on the floor?

Donnie lifted himself up on shaky arms. His whole body felt weak, his stomach especially. His muscles spasmed and protested as he attempted to find his way to his feet. The fuzz wasn’t clearing. The exhaustion was so much more intense. What had he been doing?

He must have passed out. Maybe the sleep would be good for his productivity, he didn’t know. He wracked his brain for information and remembered faintly that he’d punched Leo. The idea didn’t upset him as much as it probably should have. Leo was very punchable.

Getting to his feet was an uncomfortable struggle. He must have banged his head when he fell, because it was pounding and he was so disoriented. He swayed as he stood, shivering violently beneath his hoodie and wrapping his arms around himself in a fruitless attempt to get warmer.

It was so quiet. His lab wasn’t supposed to be so quiet and dark. The same feeling of wrongness he’d been living with ever since he began was flung back at him full force. He dug his face into his hoodie and took a moment to just shake.

He should really go back to work…

Someone knocked on the lab door. He jolted, before remembering he’d locked it, they couldn’t come in. He stumbled and scrabbled as he tilted and almost fell over, which would have been beyond embarrassing. 

“Purple?” his father’s voice called, strangely tentative. “Donatello? Are you able to hear me?”

“Mm,” Donnie replied, rubbing his eyes. Then he remembered Dad couldn’t actually hear him back, he’d soundproofed the lab. Stupid. So stupid.

“I know you are very busy,” Dad continued like he’d heard him. “And I am very sorry for intercepting your schedule, because I know it is important to you. But, ah, the projector is… having a few issues, yes. Right, that. May you come and fix it?”

Well, he couldn’t say no to Dad, no matter how close he was to collapsing or how much pain he was in. Dad rarely asked him for anything anyways, so they didn’t always have many chances to talk. Maybe he’d actually get a thank you this time.

This was his job. Get it together. ( We don’t want you to, Leo had said. We don’t want you. )

At a lethargic pace, he unlocked the doors to his lab and let it slide open to meet the gaze of his father. Dad looked oddly nervous, wringing his small hands and watching him with careful eyes. His gaze jumped to the flash of purple veins, barely visible on the side of his neck. Donnie pulled his hood back over his head in response.

“How did you break it this time?” he asked exhaustedly, which meant yes I will fix it for you.

Dad let out a small, relieved sigh. “Ah, the screen is just blinking,” he said. “I am not up to date with all of your little techno-gizmo things. I hoped you’d be able to point out the problem.”

Donnie wiped at his eyes again, careful not to let his sleeves fall down. “I thought I told you how to handle the blinking problem?” he asked, confused. He thought he did, at least. It was a pretty common issue because it was old and Dad wouldn’t let him properly upgrade it. 

Dad wouldn’t meet his eyes. He looked guilty. “If you will, Purple?”

“Right, yes. Perhaps I will make a more digestible guidebook for you later,” Donnie said with a sniff. It physically hurt to walk. It felt like he was going to fall over. He could feel his heartbeat in his stomach. “Make sure it is more pictures than words, so you dum-dums won’t shred it. Like every other guidebook I’ve made up to this point.”

Dad didn’t respond as he walked behind him. Not even a little chuckle, even though it was usually the kind of thing that would earn him an endeared laugh. Out of his mind, he worried if he’d upset him somehow. He didn’t know to handle that— he’d stayed out of his way for a reason.

(How could he do everything right to help his family and still manage to do something wrong? A rhetorical question, because the problem was him and they all knew it.)

Once again, the lair was quiet. He didn’t really even have the energy to be nervous. Everything had numbed due to the exhaustion, and it was more because of brain fog than the pain actually being gone. It was almost cozy to float, one foot in the darkness and one foot awake. Maybe he could spend the rest of his life like this. (The idea terrified him.)

They didn’t exchange any words on the way there. Dad didn’t even comment on Donnie stumbling as he walked, which was generous of him. The lair was so packed together compared to his old one, and still it felt like hours, getting from one place to another.

He took a deep breath, and opened the door to the new TV room, Dad in tow.

The faces of his brothers stared back at him.

Mikey was in that fucking turtleneck.

Donnie stilled in the doorway, eyes wide. Dad stood behind him, effectively blocking his path, and he could perfectly visualize the ancient shame on his face. His knuckles cracked at his sides, and it hurt. Distantly the pain roared. He barely felt it.

“You set me up,” he said, voice wobbling.

“Your brothers have been very worried about you, Purple,” Dad responded, sad.

Donnie skittered back and nearly fell over. He had to pause to gasp, near hyperventilating. He ran for a reason, he couldn’t break, he was so busy, he needed to work, he couldn’t do this. He hadn’t earned it yet. They’d be so disgusted with him for taking too much.

“No, I—” he gasped. “No.”

“Why don’t you come and sit down?” Mikey asked, adjusting his glasses. “If you need, we’ll only be ten minutes.”

“You’re gonna have to talk about it anyway at some point, Donbon,” Leo cut in. “I promise I won’t even yell at you for punching me earlier. And I’ll apologize for grabbing you. Real crass and uncool of me.”

“I can’t do this,” Donnie croaked, pulling his hood further down his face.

“We gave you time to calm down,” Raph said, a little harshly. “It’s been three hours, Donnie. You at least gotta come in and tell us what happened.”

“No,” Donnie said, with more emphasis.

“It ain’t a request,” Raph sounded testy, wound up. “Sit down or I’ll carry ya.”

Oh. They were mad at him. Even though Leo looked unbothered, there was a notable tenseness to his jaw. Mikey was deep in the persona, but his fingers were trembling around the pointer. His smile was a little too wide.

He couldn’t run this time. Leo would portal to him before he got to the lab. Raph would touch him, and he couldn’t let any of them touch him. He’d get greedy and he’d never let go and they’d get fed up with him, they’d leave—

“Fine,” he said, going for annoyance but landing on barely disguised fear. Their eyes followed him as he went and sat down on a beanbag, very far away from Raph and Leo. Everything was fading in and out too much for him to discern their expressions.

“That’s good! Communication is all about making compromises,” Mikey clasped his hands together, relieved. “I’m Doctor Feelings, welcome to my seminar! If you’re willing, today we’re going to be talking about open communication. ”

“I’m not,” Donnie grumbled, curling into himself.

“Donnie,” Raph reprimanded.

“I’m communicating.”

“He’s gotcha there,” Leo chuckled. 

“Ah ah ah, focus on me!” Mikey snapped his fingers to get their attention. He was on his best behavior, because normally he just would have whacked them with his pointer. “Sometimes, things will make us upset. If we don’t talk about them, they only get worse, which is why communication is so important!”

“He’s talking about you,” Leo stage-whispered, humor twinkling in his eyes. It stifled a bit when Donnie didn’t even look at him, just stared into the distance. Probably looking like shit.

“I know this is hard for you, Dee,” Mikey continued. “So I’m not gonna force you to go first, it’s better to have an example. We’ve been pretty worried about you lately, so,” he gestured with his pointer, “Raph?”

Raph jumped, surprised to be called out. “Uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward smile. “Well… Raph was just worried about ya, Don. After you locked yourself in your lab for so long, we were worried you were… y’know, mad at us or somethin’.”

“Or mad at yourself,” Leo added. “Which is also bad, for the record.”

“Good!” Mikey chirped. “Good, that’s exactly it. Donnie?”

Donnie dug his nails into the inside of his wrist. He could barely register anything beneath the roar of pain. He blinked, vision clearing, to the sight of all of his brothers staring intently at him, which felt like a glimpse into his own personal hell.

“Okay,” he said, miles away.

Mikey’s brow furrowed in concern. “Our big brothers just talked about being worried about you, so it’s your turn. Why’d you lock yourself in your lab?” he questioned, gesturing for him to speak. 

“I was busy,” Donnie replied. “It’s my job.”

“Donnie, you were cryin’,” Raph stressed. “It’s been so long since you’ve cried like that. Somethin’s up, whether you wanna acknowledge it or not.”

The last time Donnie had cried was earlier that morning. But it’s not like they knew that.

“I know feelings are hard for you,” Mikey tried. “So maybe you’re not able to identify the core reason you’re feeling upset. But that’s okay! We can figure it out. Has anything happened recently that has caused any serious changes to your routine?” There was a desperate, pleading edge to his smile. It came off as incredibly condescending.

Donnie cupped a hand over where the bite was on his bicep. “Nothing that matters,” he replied, because of course they wouldn’t even think to guess about S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N or Gram Gram. They dealt with the same and they were functioning . 

“Okay, bud, you gotta work with us here,” Leo cut in, voice sharp. “You were fine before and something changed. Did something happen to you?”

You were fine before.

Donnie barked out a venomous laugh as everything just slammed back into him. His brothers flinched in shock as he dragged himself to his feet, sneering and shaking. 

“Fine,” he snarled. “Oh yeah, I was fine before?! Like you even know me! You don’t even know what me being ‘fine’ looks like, Leo, so don’t start!”

Leo stared at him, jaw dropped. “What?”

“What? You dragged me into this interrogation expecting me to spill this big, dark secret, when the truth is, I’m just busy! I’ve been busy! Do you know how much work making sure everything operates is!? Making sure you people don’t die or freeze to death or eat like cavemen?!”

Offense crossed over his face, the audacity of his stupid twin. “Hey—”

“Because it’s been weeks,” his tail was lashing in agitation. He felt himself tearing up again as the pain pain pain tore into him, like hairline fissures under his skin. “We lost our home, we lost Gram Gram, we lost S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, and you think I was fine?! Fine when my irresponsibility is the thing that killed them?! And now you just want me to go and do everything, because you’re too stupid to actually read my manuals or listen when I try to tell you how to fix it yourselves, and you’re blaming me for that?!” He laughed, and it hurt so, so much. “Fuck you. Fuck you, Leo!”

Mikey looked alarmed. “Oh, Donnie—”

“Oh great, another Leo is stupid lecture. Fuck me for caring about how you feel, right?” Leo threw his arms up, agitated. He got up to pace himself. “What is all of this about? Are you just trying to make me feel like shit again for being bad at everything?! Because news flash, I already know! What do you want from me?”

“What I want,” Donnie shouted, “is to hear a SINGLE! FUCKING! ‘THANK YOU’!”

He slammed his fist into the wall, a deafening CRACK with his supersoldier strength . Fissures spread across the concrete. Chips from the small crater he’d made crumbled onto the floor.

He shook violently, knees wobbling, barely unable to stand upright. Tears streamed down his face again and he didn’t even realize he’d started crying. Everything was dizzy. His head felt bloated with heat while the rest of his body spasmed in the cold. Did he mess up the heater? He’d have to go check on it.

His brothers stared at him, shocked and devastated. Donnie sniffled and wiped uselessly at his face. His hood had fallen in his haste to stand, clearly revealing the veins creeping up his jawline. They probably looked stark against his scales. 

“I’m sorry I asked for too much,” Donnie sobbed, a broken little whisper. A tiny, pained admission of guilt.

He couldn’t do this.

He turned and rushed out of the room before any of them could get his bearings back to yell for him. Dad had disappeared from his spot in the hallway, thankfully. He broke into a sprint, legs nearly giving out in his desperation to go, go go. He said too much. He showed too much.

Donnie tore through the lair, swung the door open to his lab, and collapsed on the floor to breathe the moment he returned to his tomb of isolation. The world tilted on its axis as everything screamed, the surge leaving him breathless, choking, dying—

The onset of misery left him blind and deaf with obliterating pain. There was nothing but this. He wasn’t anything but this. He screamed into the metal floor as the veins crawled further and further up to his face, as the curse began to peak.

“Lock the door—” he cried. “S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, lock the door!”

Those were the last comprehensible words he could manage, descending into rapid, staccato cries. It was in him, this feeling, this inhuman pain like something had found its way under his skin and was eating him alive. He had to get it out, he had to get it out—

So Donnie tore

and tore

and tore

and tore

and tore.

The fabric of his hoodie ripped open as his claws ripped through his skin like paper. It wasn’t enough. He tore. Blood gushed from his arms, the smell sharp in the sterile atmosphere of his lab. He screamed. He couldn’t stop screaming. It wasn’t enough. He would never be enough.

Oh, the small part of him left that could think comprehensibly whispered. This is it. I’m dying.

(Would it really be so bad? He’d failed.)

His screams died down into hiccups as he shook with the force of an earthquake. It didn’t recede. It consumed his body and left him breathless and writhing. There was no point of fighting it anymore. He’d failed. He’d failed. 

There was a knock on his lab door. A raspy voice calling for him, sounding concerned. Donnie  didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let them in, let them touch him, not when he had to work. There was still work to be done, right? He couldn’t quite remember. The feeling always invasively haunted him, no matter how complete his checklist was.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know. The realization that he didn’t even know where he was and what he was doing made him sob, shoulders shuddering. Just once, he slammed his skull into the floor, weeping and mewling like a child. 

The door swung open. Hadn’t he locked it?

Slowly, he looked up, head feeling like deadweight on his body, and stared into Raph’s large, horrified eyes.

And

Donnie

just

shattered.

Chapter Text

Raph stood in front of the door to Donnie’s lab and tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say to fix this.

Mikey was right when he’d said something had been wrong with Donnie for weeks. Even if Raph wasn’t as empathetic as Mikey or impressively perceptive as Leo, he could still tell something had been up from the start. He’d just chosen to twiddle his thumbs and hope it’d sort itself out, which he was starting to realize was something he did with Donnie a lot.

And considering what Donnie had said at the seminar, he was starting to realize he had sat out of his problems a little too much.

Donnie hadn’t been talkative, when they were real little. He’d outright mostly refused to talk to or even acknowledge them, even after Mikey was beginning to string together full sentences on his own. He hadn’t had the capacity to modify ASL for them until he was already speaking and just having verbal shutdowns, so they’d mostly have to play guessing games with his opinions and what he was trying to communicate. They’d like the charades, anyhow.

Leo had proudly told him that one day, he’d annoyed the fuck out of him and Donnie had looked him straight in the eyes (a rarity in of itself) and growled “get off me.” It was easy to assume those were his first words, comfortable and familiar, in private between the twins. But Raph would never, ever forget Donnie’s first words to him—

He’d sat at the table where Dad had left him, pushed away the food he’d been demanded to eat, and looked up at Raph with big, watery wet eyes and said in a tiny, broken voice, “I’m sorry.”

And once he started, it was nearly impossible to stop. Had a panic attack or meltdown? I’m sorry. Got in their way or bumped into them? I’m sorry. Had to push food back to them because he didn’t like it? I’m sorry. Got overwhelmed when they were playing and had to excuse himself? I’m sorry. Presenting a gift he hand-made to them? I’m sorry.

Crying, sobbing as Pops stitched his cut up shell, holding Raph’s hands like a lifeline? I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— hiccuped and whispered like a prayer even though it had been Raph’s fault for putting him there in the first place.

Eventually he had weaned out of the behavior, but only because he’d begun to correct it. His work became higher-quality, he became more cognizant with his own limits and was better at excusing himself, he held himself back when he was clearly upset, especially with Mikey. Hell, the biggest reason he’d sharpied eyebrows onto his mask was because he’d apologized constantly for not emoting like they did, especially when his words were misconstrued.

He’d built his battle shell stronger and stronger just as he built an emotional fortress around himself, shutting them out at the gate. He tried desperately to only allow himself to be obtrusive when he had something to show for it, and it broke Raph’s heart to see. 

Most of the time when he presented them with a gift with all of that crowing self-appraisal, the message was clear. I love you, and this is how I’m showing it. I love you so much. The Turtle Tank was a good example, so meticulously hand-crafted for all of them that there was no denying it.

But sometimes, no matter how largely he spoke of himself and how big and theatrical he made his ego out to be, Raph could see the true meaning in the work he presented to them. An unneeded explanation for his existence, like his very act of being their brother needed one.

It was the very same as the little boy at the dinner table, tears rolling down his cheeks as he whimpered and sobbed, feeling like he needed to say I’m sorry over and over again just for being alive, so desperate that it gave Raph no other choice but to accept it instead of dismiss it.

Raph had the sinking feeling that he had failed him, somehow. He’d missed something vital. The events of today had forced him to really confront it, and it felt like someone had hosed him down with ice water. He was still shivering in the aftermath.

It was a fundamental failure of his job as the oldest. He was their protector, their shield, the one that kept them from destroying each other and themselves. And without knowing it he’d left his baby brother— his remarkable, confident, ambitious, delicate baby brother— to rot while standing right in front of him. 

How was he supposed to live with that?

Jump after him, a voice that sounded a lot like Gram Gram whispered. He’s still falling. There is still a chance to rescue him before he crashes.

He just had to take the leap, like before. He took a deep breath, swallowing down his anxiety, and rapped his knuckles against the steel lab door. Maybe he couldn’t hear Donnie in there, but he knew Donnie could hear him.

“Don,” he started, his voice tremoring. “Hey, Donnie? I know you, uh… don’t exactly wanna talk right now, and that’s okay, but uh… I kind of just need to see you? To see that you’re doin’ well. I won’t pull ya away from your work or anything.”

The silence felt ominous. He tried to stop his hands from shaking as he curled them into fists. Patience. Think it through. He sucked so bad at patience.

“Can I come in?” he asked. “You’re worryin’ me. I just need a yes or no.”

Nothing. Just stainless steel. It taunted him.

“If you don’t say anything, I’m comin’ in anyway, so you can’t get mad at me,” he stressed. “Only warning I’m givin’, buddy. You can tell me to bug off. I won’t be upset.”

Okay, so. More nothing. Donnie must be real pissed at them if he wasn’t even responding to them. Usually he’d be pretty forward if he wanted to be left alone. Raph’s face would usually be eating laser turrets by now. It felt insane to think that he’d prefer it at this point.

Raph gave him maybe ten more seconds, and then went to test the door. He paused in shock and relief to see it was unlocked for once. He really, really didn’t want to break it down for Donnie’s sake. It’d have been another task for him to get lost in.

“I’m coming in,” he informed the door.

It slid open as he approached, and then slid shut behind him as he stepped in.

Raph stopped dead in his tracks. Terror struck him like a thunderbolt.

The acrid smell of blood permeated the sterile lab air. Red streaked across the floor, leading to the heart-wrenching sight of a tiny, hunched over figure wracked by spiraling gasps. Huge watery eyes lifted to meet his. Raph could only stare.

There was so much blood. On Donnie’s claws, dripping down his arms, puddling on the floor underneath him. And on his face was the sight of grotesque, glowing marks, so dark purple they were nearly black, pulsing in the dim light.

Something devastating entered Donnie’s face. It twisted with agony and grief and he let loose this horrible little keen, hopeless and terrified. Of him.

Raph dropped to his knees so hard that the BANG of them hitting the floor echoed across the lab.

“Don—” Raph breathed, eyes already prickling with empathetic tears. “Don. Donnie. Hey, no, kid—”

He reached out and Donnie immediately flinched away, his pupils in pinpricks and breath dangerously fast. His chest heaved up and down rapidly, like a little rabbit. He repositioned to pull his knees up to his chest and stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.

The helplessness of it all made his stomach lurch. God, he remembered the flash of white Leo had pointed out after that encounter in the kitchen, and the sight of the torn through bandages on his arms made him shake with fear. How long had he been hurting himself?

He held out his hand, his movements slow and trackable. Donnie’s feet scrabbled against the floor in an attempt to escape him, but there wasn’t anywhere to go, he was pressed against the wall. He shook his head rapidly, hyperventilating and tearing his claws into the still-weeping cuts on his arms. Raph’s pulse leapt with adrenaline.

“No,” Donnie sobbed. “No, no.”

“It’s okay,” Raph tried, fighting so hard to keep his voice from shaking. Tears streaked down his cheeks and dripped onto his knees. “I gotcha buddy. I gotcha.”

He put a hand on Donnie’s knee. And the slightest brush of touch made him scream.

It was awful . Just this horrific wail tearing itself from deep in his chest, primal and devastated. Raph had heard Donnie scream before—both when he was just worked up and angry and when he was cornered and convinced that he was going to die—but he had never, ever heard a sound like this from him. It was the kind of sound prey made in the jaws of a predator, right before they closed around its throat.

It was probably the most haunting sound Raph had ever heard in his life. It would invade his nightmares for months. He was tempted to tear away and close his hands around his ears, admit to himself that he wasn’t strong enough for this, that he couldn’t do it. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Not with his little brother screaming and in pain.

Raph hiccuped and shook, but he didn’t let himself falter. He leaned in closer and reached out with his other arm, slowly trying to pull him in without spooking him further. “Shh, shh,” he whispered. “I know, bud, shh. I know it hurts. Raph’s gotcha. It’s gonna be okay.”

“No!” Donnie cried, slurred and disoriented. “No! I cah –can’t— I can’t. Please—!”

“I know, shh, I know.”

With slowness that hurt him just as much as it hurt Donnie, he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and drew him into his hold. Donnie just kept up that agonized, ear-bleeding screaming, shaking so hard Raph was almost worried he was having a seizure. He was dangerously hot in his arms, undeniably suffering from a fever.

Raph did what he could, considering the circumstances. He ran his hands down Donnie’s biceps soothingly, moved his touch to his shell to pull him flush against his chest, kissed the crown of his head and changed his position so his knees would touch his sides. He wrapped himself around his scared, fragile little brother like a blanket, softly shushing him and whispering reassurances the whole time.

It seemed to have the desired effect, because Donnie’s terrified shrieking dissolved into little whimpers and churrs, and then finally these heartbreaking tiny hiccups that skewered through Raph’s chest. His shoulders shook with his own tears as he pressed his face into Donnie’s neck, hoping to God that this would be enough. 

“Please,” Donnie hiccuped, delirious. “Please.”

“It’s okay,” Raph reminded him. “I’ve gotta look at your hurts, bud. I’m gonna get the hoodie off’a you, alright?”

Donnie didn’t respond, not lucid enough to truly hear him. Raph forwent pulling it off entirely and just used a claw to tear it in half. It sucked to destroy something Donnie took so much comfort in, but Dad could stitch it back up, and it was easy to get a new one. There was no getting a new Donnie.

Gentle and slow, he pulled the fabric away. Donnie whimpered into his collarbone, slurring incomprehensible pleas through gasping whines. It was the most upset Raph had ever heard him in his life.

Raph leaned back to get a better look at the damage, and it was a struggle to just breathe at the sight of his right arm, because he’d discovered the source of the marks .

On his bicep was a deep, glowing wound, a crater in his scales, that spread in a labyrinth of dark veins all the way up to his cheekbone, down to the beginning of his forearm, disappearing behind his plastron. 

The sight was petrifying. If Raph weren’t so consumed by adrenaline, he probably would have vomited. His veins went icy with panic. 

“No,” Raph choked. “No, no no no. God, Donnie, shit—”

He scooped his limp little brother up, holding him like a baby and cupping the back of his head to push face into his collarbone. Donnie just hung there, wracked with tiny little spasms like he was dying (he wasn’t, he couldn’t be, he wasn’t dying, don’t think about that). Raph braced one hand on his shell to feel the unsteady rise and fall of his back, engulfed by dread.

He turned and bolted out of the lab, nearly falling to the floor in his haste to leave the soundproofed room.

“Leo!” he screamed. “LEO!!”

Draxum didn’t answer his first call.

Or his second.

Or his third.

So Leo had Mikey try, just once. When met with more silence, he decided he was fed the fuck up with waiting for their stupid pseudo-father to shape up. He viciously tore a portal into the air with his sword and stormed into his apartment to go get him himself.

“Draxum!” he shouted, enraged.

At the lack of response, he howled in a hurricane of fury, “DRAXUM!”

On cue, the clop clop clop of Draxum’s hooves approached at a leisurely pace, and he came around the corner in a robe, looking disheveled and so unconcerned Leo was going to fucking kill him he was going to commit homicide.

“I assumed my lack of response to the racket on my human cellular device would have gotten to the point across,” Draxum said with a yawn. “But if I must, I will say it outright. It is very early in the morning and I have work today, so if you desperately need someone to bother—”

Leo unleashed a savage, inarticulate screech of rage and clotheslined him to the carpet. He was already holding a blade to Draxum’s throat before he could even think to move, huffing angrily through his nose like a raging bull as he pinned him to the floor.

Something dark and angry within him preened at the shocked, helpless look ineffectively concealed in Draxum’s eyes. He shook all over with tightly wound rage and had to remind himself not to run a blade through his throat because he had a reason to be here.

“Listen, I don’t trust you,” Leo snarled, panting like he’d run a marathon. “You’re a danger to my family, and I would have killed you yesterday if I didn’t love Mikey more than I hated you. And I would never, ever let you into my home if I had a choice in the matter. But right now my little brother is screaming and sobbing because of something I can’t fix and you have the audacity to not pick up my GODDAMN CALLS—!”

“Leonardo,” Draxum deadpanned, despite the sword held to his throat. “You could have asked politely instead of wasting time threatening me.”

“FUCK YOU!” he roared, blinking away the tears beading in his eyes. “You’re going to get up and help Donnie NOW! Got it?!”

“If you would get off me, yes,” Draxum replied.

Leo wanted to throttle him. Or maybe run the blade through his throat now and be done with it, because he didn’t have the right to act so unconcerned when there was a good chance his brother could be dying. But the tiny flash of concern in he could see in his eyes held him back from truly hurting him.

Shaking with rage, he pulled away. He didn’t even bother to help Draxum up. He twisted his fist in the collar of his shirt the second he found his footing and wrenched him through the portal, his chest vibrating with the force of his growls.

The sight he came back to wasn’t any better than when he’d left it. Dad had entered the room, no doubt hearing the cacophony of shouts that had been the past twenty minutes, and was holding Donnie’s hand at his bedside. Donnie didn’t look any better. Uncomprehending, but at least he wasn’t actively begging for them to stop anymore. (Stop what , Leo didn’t know.)

Mikey sagged in relief when he saw Draxum step through the portal. “Oh thank God,” he whispered, reverent in a way that Leo would never understand. “Barry, something happened! He’s— there’s these things on his arm, and, and—”

“Let me take a look,” Draxum said tersely. “How is it that you people cannot go a week without having another incident?”

Dad bristled, narrowing his eyes. His hand flexed in Donnie’s. “Draxum,” he growled. “I’d hoped I’d never have to see you in my house again.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Lou,” Draxum shot back. “Step off and let me handle our boy.”

Dad huffed, but obliged. He tore his hand away from Donnie’s, looking guilty at the way he tensed at the lack of contact, listless and confused. Leo tapped his foot against the ground impatiently as Draxum stepped forward.

His eyes only briefly glanced at the stitched and newly wrapped wounds on his arms, landing quickly on the wound on his bicep. Leo caught the furrow in his brow, the note of concern as he took in the veins spreading across his body, the way he tensed at the sight. He couldn’t relax his wound up muscles, himself— no matter how much Draxum had proven himself to care for them, his brain was still registering him as a threat.

“This is mystic venom, by the looks of it,” Draxum reported. “Many yokai possess the ability to transmit it. It feeds on negative energy and emotions—the specifics depend on the individual, usually—but it can only be transferred through a needle or a bite.”

Mikey paled. “That fight with the snake lady,” he whispered.

Raph grimaced, no doubt remembering the way that Donnie had loudly protested to going on patrol that night. Leo could already see the guilt and self-doubt going on in that little Raph-brain of his. He made a mental note to correct it later.

“Were you there when he was attacked?” Draxum asked. “Any hints to the trigger that may have caused the spread?”

The three of them shook their heads, guilty and ashamed. Donnie had only been separated for like, two minutes at most. He’d been so nonchalant about the whole thing. Leo had no reason to be suspicious. At first, at least.

“Is there a cure?” Raph asked.

Draxum paused. “It depends,” he replied, a bit cautious. “Usually the damage can be mitigated through recognizing and counteracting the feeling it feeds on. If it had been handled the day he was attacked, it would have gone away in hours.”

“And we don’t know what that is,” Leo said, staring at Donnie as he spoke. His twin’s eyes were screwed shut, his cheeks flushed, and there was little movement aside from his jumping chest and the occasional violent twitch. 

“I can see if I can get a reading,” Draxum replied, eyes darting to Leo for just a second before he spoke. Must’ve struck some fear in the geezer. Epic dub. “Although it may hurt him.”

“Just do it,” Dad said, tense. “He is already in pain.”

Draxum nodded, sharp and resolute, and raised his hands. Leo tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, lips curling into a sneer as his hands began to glow. Raph put a hand on his shoulder, probably in an attempt to quell his murderous rage. Pot, meet kettle.

Donnie twitched and let out a little shocked gasp, twisting in the bed. He grit his teeth, a heart-wrenching little whine escaping as Draxum worked. The bite began to glow a little brighter. Draxum’s brow furrowed in focus, and he clenched his hands into fists.

And for the umpteenth time that night, Leo had to hear his composed, quiet, reserved twin shriek with pain. Pretty much everyone in the room froze as his scream devolved into breathless, rapid panting as he writhed on the cot. Dad covered his face with a hand, shoulders shaking.

“Is he having a seizure?” Mikey asked, choked up with empathetic tears.

“No,” Leo replied shortly, opening an arm for Mikey to step under. He sniffled and took the opening, pressing his face into his plastron. Raph tightened his grip on his shoulder.

With an exerted breath, the glow on Draxum’s hands faded, and they fell back to his sides. “You know, I have work today,” he sighed. “I may have to call in sick.”

“Tell us what is going on!” Dad barked, taking the words out of Leo’s mouth.

“The venom seems to be preying on feelings of isolation,” Draxum replied with forced smoothness. The vibes were a little off, but it was easy to see he was just tense and concerned, despite the indifferent expression on his face. The line of his shoulders was stiff. “By the looks of it, specifically touch starvation. Skin hunger. Physical contact should curb the pain.”

Raph’s breath hitched. He put a hand to his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, but he didn’t comment on the situation, even though he looked like he wanted to.

“Oh, that sucks,” Mikey mumbled, pulling away from Leo. Only far enough to look at Draxum himself, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “Dee doesn’t really like it when we touch him. He’s gonna be so mad.”

The side of Draxum’s mouth twitched. Visible hesitation crossed over his face.

“What aren’t you telling us?” Leo asked, sharp and cold. What are you so scared to tell Mikey?

“Mystic venom… it’s a curse that melds itself to its victim,” Draxum said hesitantly, knowing better than to test Leo’s wrath. “The emotions that it is feeding off are very likely feelings that Donatello has been struggling with for a long time.”

Leo thought about Donnie punching him when he’d grabbed his wrist. He swallowed, trying to compartmentalize the information into something that just made sense. Every time he thought he knew his twin perfectly, he still managed to spring something new on him.

“He screamed when I touched him,” Raph choked, pulling away from Leo to recede into himself. “It sounded like I was killin’ him. He kept begging me to stop, and— and now you’re tellin’ me it makes it hurt less?”

Leo let out a nervous laugh, feeling cold sink down to his bones. “I don’t suppose it causes, like… paranoia, or… or… I don’t know, just— fear in general, right? So he doesn’t want to be touched or something?”

Draxum shook his head, actually finding the decency to look sad. Leo wanted to kill him about fifteen percent less. “Whatever has allowed the venom to spread so much… these feelings are entirely his own.”

The room fell into icy silence. Leo didn’t know how to feel— anger, maybe? Fear? It was starting to verge on fear. Donnie could have killed himself if he hadn’t come to them. And at every step of the process he had yelled at them to go away, cowered, tried to go back to work. 

Mikey stepped across the room, quiet and tentative, and sat on the cot next to Donnie so he could rest a hand on his shoulder. Donnie shifted and cracked open his hazy, uncomprehending eyes, rolling his head to look up at him. Whatever he could make out, it calmed him, as he let out a small sigh and went away again.

“Then what do we do?” Raph asked, falling back on Leader Mode to cope. 

“Keep him close,” Draxum said. “Ideally, one of you should be with him at all times. The venom was very close to being lethal, and I don’t have a good estimate of how long the bite might take to lose its discoloration. I’ve never seen the venom progressed to this point before. Fevers are also not a usual symptom, so its either that he’s contracted a different illness, or it is psychogenic.”

“A psychogenic fever’s my running theory, yeah,” Leo mumbled. “Although we, uh… don’t think he’s been eating? So his immune system is probably wack.”

“Mad wack,” Mikey agreed, a little giggle slipping out between his tears.

“Knowin’ Donnie, he hasn’t been sleepin’ either,” Raph added. “I mean, he’s awake right now.”

“It’s probably just the pain. Exhaustion’ll win out eventually,” Leo replied, turning to butt his head against Raph’s shoulder because wow he was exhausted. Raph pat his head affectionately. “Anything else, or can I please make you leave now?”

Draxum hummed in thought. Probably just to drag it out, the asshole. “Although medicine won’t be effective, treat it like any other illness,” he said, visibly thinking through his words. “It’s better if he doesn’t move around much and rests. His body needs strength to fight it off. And high stress may worsen it, considering it’s tied to his emotions.”

“Cool. I probably wasn’t going to let him in his lab for another billion years anyway,” Leo said. He slashed a portal into the air without lifting his head from Raph’s shoulder, pointing with one of his fingers that rested on the hilt. “Go on. Git.”

“Be nice to Barry, he’s doing his best,” Mikey whined.

Draxum shrugged. “Preferably don’t bother me this early in the morning again,” he complained. “Next time I will not be so generous. And Lou,” he turned to Dad, something indiscernible crossing his face, “message me updates as frequently as possible, preferably.”

Dad sighed, long and loud, like the idea genuinely bothered him. “If I must,” he said, but Leo could see the smile threatening to break out on his face.

Ewww.

Mikey took one look at Donnie’s terrible, barren, empty bedroom and loudly announced they were having their turtle pile in the living room.

Isolation, Barry had called the problem. There was nothing more isolating than that little empty train car, undecorated and unlived in. He couldn’t even smell him on it. And it’s not like Donnie was the most messy person, he preferred his spaces prim and clean— but he was decorative, dramatic. It reflected in his personal space.

Mikey knew what a home looked like. He especially knew what what his brothers considered home to look like. And that was not it. He’d spent more time in the living room, by the looks of it at least, so he got Leo to a drag all of the blankets and pillows from Donnie’s room out onto the floor, and Raph to transport Donnie to the little makeshift nest he was cooking.

Raph set Donnie down like he was wearing a FRAGILE, DO NOT DROP sticker on his forehead— so as gently and slowly as he possibly could. It was hard to say if Donnie was even awake, his head lolling on the pillow and his breath continuing to come out in shallow pants. It’d been doing that ever since Raph had discovered him in his lab.

“Can go and get more blankets?” Mikey asked, because Leo had disappeared from the room at some point and Mikey didn’t know where he was. “This is our first turtle pile since we moved, so we are going all the way, baby.”

“Yes chef,” Raph replied with an easygoing grin, which made Mikey beam with pride. But he didn’t miss the way his older brother cast a worried glance to Donnie as he left the room, as if he was afraid to leave him. 

Mikey brought out his signature octopus cling to ease his worries. He had to lift Donnie’s ragdoll arms in order to perform the move effectively, but it worked out, and he seemed to relax at least a little. His pulse had been thumping for a while now. It was worrying.

Leo returned a little later with a bucket and a washcloth. His eyes were suspiciously red rimmed and his smile was drawn a little too tight, but it softened into something genuine when he laid eyes on the scene in front of him.

“Jeez, Mike,” Leo chuckled, going to dab the washcloth in the bucket. “I think squeezing him to death is kinda contradictory to what we’re tryna do here.”

“He’s still all tense,” Mikey replied. “And I’m only one turtle.”

Leo hummed, wringing out the cloth and settling at Donnie’s side. He gently untied his mask and handed it to Mikey, who balled it up and tossed it haphazardly at the couch behind them. Donnie made a faint upset noise and turned his head when Leo put the cloth there.

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Leo snarked, soft and endeared. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t cook that big brain you’re so proud of like a 7-Eleven hot dog. Cut me some slack.”

Donnie somehow looked more vulnerable maskless. Something about the sight made the whole situation feel more real, especially with the view of the veins creeping up his face. Mikey had to swallow down the knot building in his throat at the sight of it.

“Do you think he’s asleep?” Mikey asked.

“I can’t tell,” Leo replied, a little distant, a little conflicted. “I don’t have Raph or Dad’s weird sixth sense for it. I hope so. He probably hasn’t been before now.”

“Yeah,” Mikey replied faintly.

Raph’s lumbering footsteps in the hall signaled his return. Mikey strained to look over Donnie to witness him hobbling into the room with a mountain of soft things in his arms. He was suddenly glad he’d enlisted the best man for the job.

Leo let out a startled little laugh. “We’re really going all out, huh?”

“It’s a turtle pile of epic proportions,” Mikey said, reaching to pat at his arm. “Who knows how long we’re all gonna be here? We need to nest.”

“You heard the man,” Raph rumbled, dropping the pile on the floor with a flourish.

Mikey knew personally that Donnie loved his little nests. He preferred to keep his room mostly proper, but pretty much every time he slept in one of their rooms or in a pillow fort, he’d go and bury himself in mountains of blankets and refuse to move until he was bribed. He’d get especially territorial if he had other comfort items with him, like fidgets or Jupiter Jim toys or just tech he really liked— or, on several occasions, Leo, who he would aggressively refuse to let go of. Raph had a little bite scar on the web of his hand to prove it.

So he had to make it perfect. Moving unthinkingly, he switched places with Leo, who immediately tucked Donnie’s head under his chin. He joined Raph as they started to configure blankets around the twins. They were doing it all by memory of how he’d done it, and Donnie would probably have made criticized it for not being to his exact preferences if he were awake (or lucid, if he was), but it was a fluffy dream and when Mikey flopped down on it, he practically went boneless.

“That’s the good stuff,” he commented with a yawn. They’d been up all night— it’d been a very emotionally taxing eight hours.

“Can you rewet the towel?” Leo mumbled, eyelids drooping. “Wring it into the bucket so it doesn’t drip.”

“Raph’s got it,” Raph replied, committing himself to the task.

Mikey settled against Donnie’s back, wrapping his arms around his torso (octopus cling… two!!!) taking mental note of the bruises on his shell with a little displeased sound. Raph hovered over them to place the dishtowel back on Donnie’s forehead, and then dragged the three of them into his lap so he could wrap all of them into his arms, half-upright against the couch.

“I think it’s helping,” Leo said. “His heart isn’t beating so fast anymore. I think he’s finally actually asleep.”

There was a small, collective sigh of relief. Mikey had no idea how aware he’d been the whole time, with the fever and the venom-slash-curse (cursed venom?) and everything. He hoped that he at least knew they were there. Feeling lonely was hard on all of them.

The emotions that it is feeding off are very likely feelings that Donatello has been struggling with for a long time.

How long had Donnie let the loneliness fester in the first place? He remembered him saying that they wouldn’t even know what him being fine looked like back at the seminar. He’d seen Donnie happy so many times— but he supposed happy was more of a feeling, while fine was a state of being. It hurt to dwell on, to think about the darker alternatives to fine.

Raph shifted, jostling the pile a bit. Leo made a little protesting noise.

“Sorry, lemme just…”

He groped around at the pile of soft things, pulling a plushie out and slotting it in between the twins. Leo shifted to accommodate it without a word, and Mikey felt Donnie snuggle deeper into his twin’s hold on reflex, because Raph had gotten that little purple shark plushie that he would always, always cling to when he was upset—

And oh, Mikey hadn’t seen it in his room. Raph must’ve fished it out of his unpacked boxes, one of his favorite things in the world just collecting dust, forgotten at the bottom of a box as his strong, untouchable big brother slowly let himself fall to pieces for them — that was what finally broke him.

He pressed his face into the back of Donnie’s neck to muffle a choked, devastated sob.

“Mikey?” Leo asked, a little exhausted. “You good?”

“Sorry—” Mikey sobbed, wetting Donnie’s nape in his tears. “Sorry, sorry. I told myself I wasn’t gonna cry, I thought I had it together, I just— I thought he was gonna die. He was gonna die. He was just… he was killing himself.”

Raph tensed and drew in a shaky breath, pulling them all a little closer. Donnie shifted, and all of them stopped dead and stayed frozen until he went still again.

“He was,” Leo agreed hollowly. “Some of those scratches were… they were like a week old. God, has he— I don’t know, I’m scared he’s done this kind of thing before. Like I know he gets kind of rough with himself when he has meltdowns but—”

“But he’d come to you if he made himself bleed on accident,” Mikey finished for him. “He never did it on purpose. And… and… what if he wants to…?”

Leo let out one great big heaving breath, and didn’t respond. He reached over and grabbed Mikey’s hand, squeezing reassuringly. Mikey squeezed back, desperate for the comfort despite the surrounding bodies and blankets.

“Whatever happens,” Raph said, soothing, “we’re gonna deal with it as a family. As a team.”

“I can’t lose him,” Leo whispered, and it was the most vulnerable thing Mikey had heard from him in years. Even in the kitchen hours ago when he’d succumbed to worry and stress, there had been an edge of anger and desperation to it. Now he just sounded broken. Like his heart had been ripped in half.

“We’re not gonna,” Raph said, in that resolute tone that meant no matter what, it was going to end up that way. Only him and April were really able to pull it off. “We’ve got him now. We caught him before he fell too far. That’s what matters.”

Mikey sniffled and nodded against Donnie’s neck, the only indication Raph could see of his assent being the bob of his mask tails. Raph cupped a hand on a back of his head and rubbed his thumb in circles reassuringly.

“That’s what matters,” Leo echoed, sounding relieved. “You got it, team leader.”

Raph churred, a chest-deep thing that had Mikey’s bones melting into jello. It would’ve put him to sleep right then, if Donnie hadn’t shifted in the cuddle pile and made a soft, confused noise that put them on high alert in an instant.

“Mmh,” Donnie cracked open his glazed, feverish eyes, wracked by a little shiver that shook the whole pile. “Wha…?”

Leo gently pulled his hand out of Mikey’s to cup Donnie’s face, the side without the veins. “Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he rumbled, half-asleep himself. “You feeling any more lucid, bud? You’ve been out of it for a while.”

“That was a real short nap,” Raph rasped, edged with worry.

“I…” Donnie squirmed in their arms, and Mikey couldn’t tell if he was trying to get away or get comfortable. He pulled the shark plushie closer to his chest, trying to blink himself back into clarity. “I’m… I’m s’pposed to…”

“All you gotta do right now is relax,” Mikey disagreed. “Don’t worry about any of it, Dee. We’re doing just fine.”

Donnie didn’t sound reassured at all. “No, I…” he hiccuped, the trembling starting to pick up again. “I wasn’t supposed to… why doesn’t it hurt? It’s s’pposed to hurt.”

Leo furrowed his brow, gaze clouding with fear and concern. “You’re not supposed to be in pain—”

“Am I dead?”

Raph turned to stone beneath them. Leo’s expression went carefully blank as he processed the question. Mikey shared the sentiment, burying himself closer into Donnie’s back and tightening his arms. He’s just delirious. It’s just the fever. He’s fine. 

“You’re okay,” Mikey whispered into his neck. “You’re not dead.”

“Did you think you were going to die?” Leo asked breathily, voicing the question that Mikey was too terrified to confront himself.

Donnie took a long moment to answer, distant and uncomprehending. “It hurt so much,” he mumbled, all air. “I– hah-had to… I had to work. I had to…”

He cut himself off to let out a tiny little keen that turned Raph’s grip crushing. Donnie didn’t seem to notice it, even though Mikey made a startled squeaky toy noise. He just lolled his head to the side and slipped his eyes shut.

“You didn’t,” Leo whispered, heartbroken. “You really… you really didn’t.”

Donnie didn’t respond to his words at all. For a moment, Mikey thought he’d just fallen back asleep as his shaking abated a bit, before he shifted again and whispered, “The heater? Is… is it… do I…”

“Heatin’s fine, Donnie,” Raph reassured, voice tight with emotion. “You’re just running a bit of a fever, that’s all. But you’re gonna be okay. Just rest.”

“Rest,” Donnie echoed, like he’d never heard the word before. Like he was testing it out to feel how it sounded in his mouth. Mikey didn’t know if he’d ever really considered applying the word to himself before. He both wanted to know and didn’t.

Leo sucked in a deep breath and gently pulled away to rewet the towel. Donnie whined at the absence of touch, breath hitching, but Raph pulled him closer to compensate, whispering reassurances as his shaking died down into nothing.

“Just rest,” Raph repeated, with a hypnotic softness that was putting Mikey to sleep, too. “That’s all we need from you right now. You’re doin’ a good job, Donnie, just like that, just breathe…” Donnie’s breaths evened out, lashes fluttering, and his vaguely conflicted expression softened into something placid and serene. Raph rumbled in approval. “Thaaaat’s it. You’re doin’ great, little brother, you’re gonna be just fine, shh, shh, shh….”

By the time Leo returned, draping the towel back over Donnie’s forehead and slotting back into the pile, Donnie had already fallen asleep. Mikey blinked languidly, the sound of Raph’s voice, the vibration of his rumbling purr, and the rise and fall of Donnie’s back finally lulling him to sleep.

Raph hadn’t really expected it to be smooth sailing from there.

Donnie was, even at his very best, a stubborn little shit. One conversation in the pile was not going to fix the very apparent problem with him, especially because he continued to stay relatively out of it.

Even with regular illness, he’d always been the worst patient. Every single time he would start by trying to hide it, zero exceptions. And once he actually was caught, he’d be like an unanchored ship— quiet, drifting, listless, uncooperative. He’d glare at them instead of taking medicine, cover himself up with his sheets when they tried to talk to him, get nasty and bitey when they tried to cool him down with an ice pack or towel. He’d always be wanted to left alone.

Raph hadn’t really thought much of it at the time. He’d expected Donnie to be the opposite of Leo— who would bitch and whine and beg to be paraded around when he had a cold or a few scrapes, but had once managed to hide a broken ankle from them for four straight days. He’d get furious with them for hiding injuries from him, but he’d also walk off like a cat going to die when it was his turn to face the music.

Really, he’d thought Donnie would be open if his injuries were grievous (especially because, unlike Leo, he didn’t have a pain tolerance that was so high that he straight up wouldn’t register injuries on accident). But it seemed he had the same problem, after he’d spent so long hiding the venom from them. He couldn’t help but think about what he said, how he said it was supposed to hurt, that he had to work…

So it was kind of a given that he wasn’t going to stay in bed without a fight.

Case in point— Raph was acutely aware that Donnie hadn’t eaten in four days.

“His body’s probably already been in starvation mode by now,” Leo said, biting his thumb nail and furrowing his brow. “For a human, it already starts to reabsorb nutrients at about the forty-eight hour mark, but our metabolisms are like, extra crazy, so we’re going to starve faster.”

“Couldn’t you put him on an IV?” Raph asked, because that was one of the only things he remembered from both of their rambles about medical things. IV good when dehydrated or hungry or hurt. Easy stuff.

“It’d be a bitch to set up here, and I don’t wanna move him to the medbay,” Leo refuted, apologizing with his expression. “We just have to start slow and ease him back in. Mikey, can you make something light?”

Mikey nodded sharply. “Hot soup!” he exclaimed, making a beeline for the kitchen. Leo rewarded him with a fond smile and settled back down to pull Donnie closer.

Donnie had been in and out for a while now. After Raph had managed to coax him to sleep last morning, he’d slept like the dead all day, and then woken up the next day in little snatches of ten minutes. He hadn’t been as lucid as he was before, mostly just staring blankly ahead despite their attempts to rouse him with soft, reassuring words and touches.

It was better than the ear-bleeding screaming and begging, at least. But it was still very alarming, especially because he couldn’t tell if it was due to physical exhaustion or because of a full-body shutdown, and those were rare. Either way he was catatonic. 

Leo shot Raph a sad little look before leaning forward to shake Donnie’s shoulder. “Hey, Donnie, baby, you with us? Can you get up?”

Donnie shifted a little, which was progress. He cracked open his eyes and slow-blinked like a relaxed cat, trying and failing to look up and focus on Leo. He made a faint little sound, and Raph couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a question or a protest.

Leo’s lip quivered, but instead of cracking, his face shifted into a reassuring smile that Raph had seen at his bedside many, many times after injuries. “Hey, buddy, there you are. You think you could sit up to eat? Mikey’s making soup.”

“Heater?” Donnie croaked.

“Just you,” Leo dismissed, like the question wasn’t heart-wrenching. “You’re running a low-grade fever. Trust me, it’s better than yesterday. Nothing to fix, bro. Can you sit up?”

Donnie blinked, and Leo took it as confirmation, reaching to help him sit up, careful to avoid touching the veins on his right. The bite didn’t look any better, but the magic was receding, back down to his throat at that point. Little miracles.

“Nothin’ to fix, he says,” Donnie mumbled, staring down at the blankets covering him with half-lidded eyes. “Never finished the… the dryer. Dishwasher. Security system, I should…”

“We can go without that for now,” Raph replied, placing a hand on his shoulder to help steady him. “Let’s just focus on makin’ sure you get better, okay?”

“Hmm,” Donnie closed his eyes and leaned his head on Leo’s shoulder. Raph pulled them both a little closer, letting him rest. Leo adjusted to rub circles on his shell, looking emotionally taxed himself by the whole thing.

Mikey returned a few moments later, a steaming bowl of soup in his hands. His face brightened at the sight of Donnie sitting up. “Oh! Is he awake?”

“Kinda,” Raph replied. “Better than before.”

“Might have to spoon feed him,” Leo commented, his smile coming in a little easier. “Like a little baby bird. You hear that, Tello?”

“Spit in their mouths,” Donnie mumbled, surprisingly clear. Raph choked out a little surprised laugh. “Your simile stinks.”

“Good to know you’ve still got time to snark at me while half-dead,” Leo said. Raph flinched, and Leo amended, “sorry. You’re not dying or anything.”

Mikey gently sat down on his knees to avoid jostling the bowl, handing it to Leo, who was in the best position to feed him and also the least likely to be bit. As much as Donnie refused to admit it, Leo was probably the best contender for his favorite person in the world, with April in a strong second place.

“We’re not letting you die,” Mikey added very seriously. “So eat.”

“You gonna pick up the spoon or do I have to feed you myself?” Leo asked, voice tinged in amusement that Raph hadn’t heard in days. It felt like a return to the natural order. “Because I will do the here comes the airplane and everything. Make it super embarrassing.”

Donnie turned his head to press his face into the side of Leo’s neck. “Security system,” he said.

“What about it?” Raph asked, dreading the answer.

“I need to… it’s not done,” Donnie’s eyes squeezed shut and his body started to shake. Mikey reached out to put a hand on his knee, squeezing. “I can’t… I need to go finish it. I…”

“Why do you always gotta be so stubborn?” Leo asked, incredulous. Raph could hear the strained edge to it, making it very apparent that he was just as upset as he was. “Later, Donnie, when you’re not sick and literally poisoned.”

“Envenomated,” Donnie corrected.

“You make testing my patience an Olympic sport,” Leo deadpanned. “C’moooon. For your favorite twin?”

Donnie didn’t respond. For a moment, Raph thought he’d just gone catatonic again as his expression relaxed. Then he tensed, every muscle locking up, and everyone in the pile was jostled and shouting in surprise as Donnie wrenched himself out of their grips and tried to make a break for it.

“Woah!” Mikey shrieked, falling onto his back.

Leo yelped and barely managed to save the soup before it spilled over, braced on one knee.

Raph was the fastest to move, lurching up after him and wrapping his arms fully around his torso, stopping him in place and dragging him back into the nest. Donnie made a horrific wounded sound and kicked and scratched and tried ineffectively to punch through his scales with his teeth.

“No!” Donnie shouted, the loudest he’d been all day. “No! No! I need —”

“Jesus, Don,” Raph gasped, breathless, falling flat on his ass with Donnie squirming in his arms. “It’s okay! You’re okay! We’ve gotcha!”

“Let me go! Let me go let me go let me go—”

“Shit,” Leo hissed, robotically handing the bowl over to Mikey, who took it without thinking. He ducked into Donnie’s line of sight, in front of both him and Raph, and reached out to cup his face, tilting his chin in an attempt to catch his eyes. “Hey, hey. Calm down.”

Donnie kicked at Raph hard enough for it to hurt and made a high pitched wounded sound. Leo frantically shushed him, patting at his face in an attempt to get his attention.

“Come back to us, Tello, c’mon,” Leo choked, frustration bleeding into his voice. “Hey, hey, hermano, look at me. Do you really think you’ll be more useful to us dead? Because if you keep this up you’re going to die, and then you won’t be able to do anything!”

“Leo!” Mikey reprimanded, sounding horrified.

Raph would’ve yelled at him too, because Jesus that was a fucked up line of thinking, but it actually worked. Donnie continued panting, but his thrashing slowly stopped, and he met Leo’s gaze with wide, scared eyes. Leo stared right back, stubborn and resolute.

“Leo,” Donnie whispered.

“Donnie,” Leo said, harsh. “Look, you can worry about all of this stuff later. But if you starve yourself and let the venom get worse, you won’t be able to. You wanna be a machine? Fine. But you need fuel or you’re not gonna work properly. That’s basics. Capiche?”

Donnie just stared. And then he burst into tears.

Raph nearly let go of him in surprise, even though he’d been doing that a lot lately. Before two days ago, the last time he’d seen Donnie cry was when he was eleven. It’d been something that had to do with Dad, although he’d never been very clear what. But now he had a whole streak going. His body shook with sobs.

“Hey, no, none’a that,” Raph soothed, pressing his face into the top of his head and planting a kiss there. “You’re okay.”

“I–I’m sorry-y—”

“No, no, Donnie, we’re not mad!” Mikey called, putting a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were already brimming with empathetic tears. “It’s okay! It’s okay! I promise! Pinky swear!”

Donnie dissolved back into those heartbreaking little hiccups, going completely limp in Raph’s arms. Slowly, he unwound them from around his torso, letting him slide down back into the nest, half draped on his legs. Leo crawled back over and threw an arm over his chest, nuzzling his neck with a reassuring churr as he cried. Donnie turned to hug him back, sniffling hugely.

They waited patiently for the the tears to slow, shushing him and keeping him placated the whole way through. Eventually they dried up, leaving behind shallow, hitched breaths as he sagged in exhaustion.

Surprisingly cautious, Mikey brought the spoon to Donnie’s lips. He robotically took a sip, and didn’t even seem to notice that the soup was lukewarm. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything.

After the past two long days of worrying and fretting, Leo was starting to get exhausted. If this was how Donnie felt all the time, he could almost understand why he was so willing to keel over and die (and that was only a half-joke, because Jesus Christ he was so tired he wanted to sleep forever how the hell did Donnie put up with this???). 

But after the Soup Incident™, patent pending, Donnie had been relatively cooperative and kind of lucid. They’d managed to feed him more and he’d only puked once, while his stomach seemed to accept everything else. He hadn’t been speaking to them much, sure, but he seemed to understand what they were saying pretty well, and he tended to get quiet when he was upset about stuff. It was so much better than before.

So after some whispering amongst themselves, they decided collectively to have a movie night. Mikey went and got his laptop, because they didn’t know how to get into Donnie’s, Raph’s was laggy as hell, and Leo’s laptop battery went out fast because he kept it plugged in at all times. They found the least laggy pirating site they could (if Donnie were awake enough, Leo knew he would go on a lecture about the value of torrenting, and thinking about it made Leo miss him extremely bad) and turned on an easy to digest Jupiter Jim movie that they all collectively liked.

Honestly, there was some unspoken understanding that they just needed the white noise to sleep. They were all on edge and nervous, and Donnie wasn’t really awake enough to care. Aside from a little upset whine when Mikey had briefly left, he’d been silent for hours.

Mikey took the front and Leo draped himself across his shell like they were kids again. Within minutes his eyes were already slipping shut, because he’d seen this movie like a gazillion times before and he was too tired to be invested. Donnie laid still in his arms, still a little fever-warm, but so much better than the living heater he was a while ago.

Slowly, he let himself drift to sleep. And when he woke up in the middle of the night, too tired to open his eyes, he could not for the life of him figure out why.

It was quiet. He could hear Raph snoring like a bear, but that would have woken him hours ago. The back of his neck prickled with anxiety he couldn’t place, a distant thunder of fear that wasn’t his. The nest was soft underneath him, it would be so easy to just go back to bed…

But then he recognized what the feeling was. That was his twin-sense screaming at him.

Leo’s eyes flew open. 

He shot upright in a matter of seconds, barely managing to avoid headbutting Raph in the jaw as all of his systems came back online at once. The laptop had been dead for a while. Fresh terror reared up within him as he scanned the room frantically.

Donnie wasn’t in the nest.

Donnie wasn’t in the nest.

“Oh shit,” Leo said with deadly calm he didn’t possess. And then, running on pure instinct alone, he elbowed Raph in the chest. Hard.

Raph yelped as he jumped awake. Mikey shot up at the sound, eyes wide and alert.

“Jesus, Leo, what—” Raph stopped at the pure, unfiltered fear on his face.

“Donnie’s gone,” Leo gasped. “He’s gone!”

“He’s gone!?” Mikey shrieked, frantically checking the pile even though it was pretty obvious he wasn’t there. He even picked up a pillow that would be way too small to hide him, probably running on autopilot and too tired to care. “Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh.”

“Okay, let’s not panic!” Raph exclaimed, panicking. He got his composure together quick. “Let’s split up and check the lair, ain’t no way he went far with how sick he is. I’ll, uh— I’ll check the lab. Leo, go right. Mikey, go left. See if he’s with Pops.”

“If his lab door is locked, you’re breaking it down, no more excuses,” Leo snapped as the three of them scrambled to their feet and shot off in different directions.

He tore through room after room. He even searched his room. At a point he was so desperate that he even started digging through closets, desperately hoping Donnie was in the lair. There wasn’t even a scent of him. The panic was seriously starting to kick up. 

Nothing, nothing, nothing. How could there be nothing?

“He’s not with Dad!” Mikey exclaimed when they met up again, voice already pitching into a terrified wail. “He’s just– he’s gone! He’s gone!”

“Some stuff was moved in his lab, I think,” Raph breathed. “But he ain’t there.”

Leo cupped a hand over his mouth and desperately tried to steady his breath, because if Donnie had left the lair he could’ve been anywhere. Kidnapping obviously wouldn’t make sense because he was surrounded by them, and nobody could just break in considering the—

“The security system!” Leo shouted suddenly, making both of them jump. “He’s been freaking out about getting it done pretty much the whole time!”

It clicked immediately for his brothers, and Raph nodded sharply. “So he’s gotta be in the tunnels somewhere,” he agreed. “Mikey, Leo an’ I are gonna split up, hang back here.”

“What? But—”

“Raph can carry him and I can portal back,” Leo said. “And if Donnie gets back, you and Dad can be there for him. We’re not underestimating you, Miguel, promise.” He stopped to think, dazed with panic, and continued. “If one of us finds him, we can hit the panic button so we all go back to the lair. Okay?”

“That makes sense,” Raph said. 

Mikey nodded, teary-eyed but determined.

Leo grabbed one of his odachi, fastened on his belt, and raced in the opposite direction of Raph as he tore through the subway tunnels. Usually Donnie would have accidentally given him hints, because at the slightest prodding he would ramble incessantly about the process of his work, but this wasn’t a usually kind of situation. And Leo hadn’t asked.

(When was the last time Leo asked about his work without making fun of him?)

(Had he ever?)

Panic and adrenaline carried his feet. His heart pounded in his hears, and in the silence of the abandoned tunnels, his breath and the frantic pounding footsteps were the only sound, echoing back at him mockingly.

The panic button was dim. Nobody had found him yet. Every second Donnie was alone was another where he suffered.

“Donnie!” he shouted into the darkness, frantic. “DONNIE!”

He turned a corner, sliding against the floor in his panic and nearly falling to his feet.

And there was his brother, upright and using the wall as support, a shaking arm shot out to brace himself.

He turned around to look at Leo, trembling so hard that he could see it from forty feet away. His eyes were hazy and feverish.

Donnie had put his mask back on. His headphones were down around his neck, and he wasn’t wearing his battle shell at all. He turned and skittered away from him, a flash of animalistic terror on his face, holding technology Leo couldn’t make sense of at all in his head.

“Oh, thank God,” Leo breathed, stepping forward. Donnie stepped back. “What were you thinking?! Did you not hear a single thing I said earlier?”

“I can hah-handle it,” Donnie rasped breathily, continuing to back away from him. “Do you— do you have such little confidence in mmm-my capabilities, Nardo? Scoff.”

 “Oh, I’m sure you can,” Leo clapped back, hand hovering on his panic button. “You never struggled before. But I don’t want you to do it while you’re in pain, physically or emotionally. You can do this when you’re feeling better.”

“I’ve done– I’ve done it before,” Donnie wheezed. “I can do it. Why woh-won’t you listen to me?”

Leo’s eyes darkened. “Because you’re wrong,” he growled, not even sounding like himself. “If this is what you think is right, you’re wrong. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.” Donnie’s breath picked up and he clutched his technology as Leo prowled forward. “Why are you so insistent on hurting yourself?”

“I haven’t—” Donnie gasped, and then threw himself back when Leo’s hand brushed his wrapped arm. “Don’t TOUCH me!”

Leo froze to stare at him. Donnie wheezed, shrinking into himself.

“I ha-haven’t earned it, I haven’t—” he cut himself off to whine, leaning against the wall fully for support. The veins had crept back up, growing faster than they were shrinking. “I’m supposed to— this is my thing. I’m too much. I’m— I’m too muh-ch, and I failed– I failed– this is all I have, I… I just need to… why can’t I do this?”

Leo had to stare at him for a long moment to let the words process. He ran them over in his head, knowing his jaw was dropped and he looked like a fool, but too numb with shock to feel any embarrassment. Every time he thought he understood him, man. Always something new.

His twin had been falling for a long time and he hadn’t even noticed.

Leo took a deep breath. In. Out. Let himself relax.

“Okay,” he said, matter-of-fact.

Donnie flinched back in shock and blinked rapidly like he was trying to focus. Leo kept his expression and posture neutral, calculative, calm. He gave Donnie a moment to process what he’d just revealed to him.

“If this is what you think you have to do to earn it, earn my love,” Leo said, giving away none of the distress that churned his guts, “then do it, Dee. Go and set up your thing. I’ll be standing right by you. I’ll be here when you’re done. Okay?”

He sheathed his sword, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, gesturing with one hand as if to say go on . He had to dig his nails in hard enough to leave grooves in his skin, preventing himself from running forward and grabbing his little brother so he could hold him close enough to pop.

Slowly, looking for a trick, Donnie nodded. He stepped away from the wall, grip tightening on the tech in his shaking hands. 

He moved at a snail’s pace. His hands were shaking too much to link things up and connect them properly, but he stubbornly continued. Leo watched him the whole time, non-judgemental, keeping his trembling inconspicuous. Donnie wouldn’t have noticed it anyway.

Donnie’s breath picked up. His brow furrowed in frustration, and then finally, as expected, his hands shook too much with pain to hold the tech he was carrying. He yelped as it clattered against the concrete and the glass shattered. 

“No,” Donnie panted, sounding horrified. “No, no, no nn-no—”

Keeping his movement slow, Leo straightened his posture from where he’d been leaning against the wall. Donnie flinched away like he’d just threatened to hit him, throwing his arms up in front of him and shaking violently in fear and what was most likely unbearable pain. Blinded by the fact that he’d failed. Expecting Leo to reprimand him.

Leo wrapped his arms around him and bundled him into his chest instead.

“See how I still love you, mellizo?” he asked, his voice soft, headbutting him affectionately. “See how I’m not leaving you or getting mad at you because you failed? I’m not going anywhere, Tello. You’re gonna have to pry me away with a crowbar. Metaphorically. I’m like a metaphorical alligator.”

Donnie shoved his face into his collarbone and weeped.

Leo tapped the panic button gently and let it light up, signaling I’ve got him, and turned his attention fully back to his brother. He set one hand on his shell and another on the back of his head, not shushing him, not telling him it was going to be okay, just letting him cry it out.

“I’m sorry—”

“Okay.”

“I’m so sorry—”

“That’s fine.”

“I– I failed theh-them–”

“I know.”

Slowly he scooped him up, relieved to feel Donnie wrap his arms around his neck. “I swear you weren’t this light last time I carried you. We really need to get you eating more.” He struggled to unsheathe his sword again, politely choosing not to comment on the snot Donnie was definitely getting on his collarbone. “And your fever’s bad again. Let’s get you home, okay?”

Donnie didn’t respond, but Leo knew he heard him. He slashed open a portal and hopped through, holding him as carefully as possible so he wouldn’t jostle him. Mikey cried out in relief when he saw him step through, running to them with tears in his eyes.

“Oh my God!” Mikey exclaimed. “Is he okay? The venom’s worse!”

Leo haphazardly threw his odachi to the side, not even caring about the loud responding clatter as it hit something. Mikey grimaced. Donnie flinched in his arms, and he reassuringly reached up to smooth a hand over his shell in apology.

“I’ll talk about it when Raph gets back,” Leo said, keeping his voice low. “But for now, let’s just get back to the pile.”

“Okay,” Mikey said, running back out into the living room. Leo walked in to the sight of him readjusting blankets again, face dark with focus. There was something wild and intense in his eyes that hadn’t been there prior.

Leo twisted to flop down on his back, taking Donnie with him. Mikey, after deeming the nest satisfying, crawled over and draped himself across Donnie like a blanket, effectively pinning both of them to the floor.

“I’m staying here forever,” Mikey grumbled. “Don’t do that again, Dee.”

Donnie’s expression twisted in what looked like pain, even though pretty much every part of him was in skin-to-skin contact. Although Draxum had said the bite preyed on the feeling of isolation, and touch starvation was only a factor. Leo supposed he knew a little too well what it felt like to be alone while surrounded by people.

After a few moments of tense silence, Raph finally shot into the room, breathing hard like he’d run a marathon. He probably had run an equivalent to that. Leo was kind of pooped himself.

“Thank Christ,” Raph breathed, hanging his head as he clutched the doorframe hard enough to crack it a little. He tore his hand away and dropped to his knees, hands hovering over the three of them. “Oh, I was so worried.”

“What happened?” Mikey asked.

Leo paused to genuinely consider how much he should give away. “We talked it out, kind of,” he said searchingly. “He was just… worried about some stuff. I don’t think he’s going to run like that again, though.”

Raph and Mikey breathed twin sighs of relief. Raph flopped back down and, once again, dragged them all into his arms. Donnie didn’t respond beyond letting out a small shivering chirp– a relieved sound, not a scared or pained one. His first since they found him.

“I don’t think he’s going to run like that again,” Leo repeated, “but I do think we should take shifts now. So he doesn’t wake up alone.”

“Yeah,” Raph agreed. “Raph’s with’cha on that one.”

“I hate this.”

“Yup.”

“I really hate this.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

“Shut up and watch slime compilations with me.”

Donnie sighed, overdramatic, and lolled his head over to glance at the screen of Mikey’s phone. He nestled as close as he could, with Leo asleep draped across both their legs like a cat. Mikey leaned over to squish his cheek against his shoulder.

“I wish I’d caught it early to suck out the venom,” Donnie grumbled, lethargic. His eyelids drooped. “With a straw. You can do that, you know.”

“Would that even work on mystic venom?” Mikey asked. “Also, I already know. Meat Sweats did that for me once.”

“Should I even ask for the story behind that?”

“He was nice at the time!” Mikey protested, whisper-yelling so he wouldn’t disturb their big brothers. They’d already done their shifts and it was his turn. He had to prove that he was just as good at it. “It was a whole thing. We had a whole adventure. You just had to be there.”

“You are aware he tried to eat me, right?” Donnie asked.

“He’s not really special for that anymore,” Mikey replied. “Villains just kinda do that. I’m still a fan. I’ll get him one day.”

“Homicide-wise or friendship-wise?”

“Oh, I mean friendship this time.”

“This time,” Donnie echoed flatly.

Mikey giggled into his neck. Donnie grimaced and shivered, but didn’t comment on it. When Leo had gotten him back from the tunnel, the veins had been higher than they were when they first discovered it, but they’d receded down to the hollow of his throat now. It felt like real, actual progress— the first in weeks.

“This is just so boring,” Donnie mumbled, after a while of them not speaking to each other. “I don’t know how you handle just laying here and dealing with me.”

“Is that your way of saying sorry without saying it again?” Mikey asked. “‘Cause I’m tired of hearing you say that, Donald. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Mn,” Donnie replied, which meant yes to the first question. Mikey was touching up on all his Donnie-isms, he’d been lagging behind. “I suppose I feel bad, more so in an ‘I haven’t stopped working for this long for years and it’s making me restless’ way than an ‘I think you are going to kill me for not doing things for you twenty four seven’ way now.”

“Relaxation is work,” Mikey replied. “You’re workin’ to relax.”

Donnie let out another sad little sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. Mikey wondered if he’d been trying to get him to let him go. That wasn’t gonna happen in a gazillion years after what he’d just done. He knew their big brothers shared the sentiment.

“...Did you really think we were gonna kill you for not giving us stuff?” Mikey asked.

“I thought it was very clear I was being hyperbolic, Angelo,” Donnie replied, not looking him in the eyes. He rested a hand on Leo’s back to feel the rise and fall, relaxing a bit. 

“Y’know, I thought you were being hyperbolic about a lot of stuff up to this point,” Mikey said, reaching out to touch one of Donnie’s damaged arms, “but then the last couple of days happened. So.” He shrugged with forced nonchalance. “I’m tryna catch up a little here.”

“I don’t know,” Donnie admitted. “I was hurting so much I wasn’t thinking straight. I was… afraid. I think.”

“Does it still hurt?” Mikey asked.

“Yes,” Donnie was honest, even if he tried to look unaffected, which was progress(!!!). “But before it was… I don’t know. I can’t even describe it. You wouldn’t be able to picture it.”

“Barry said the curse didn’t change your feelings at all,” Mikey ventured. “So um, with all of that, why’d you…” he trailed off, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. I don’t want to force you to talk about anything when you’re hurting.”

“I didn’t want you to stop me,” Donnie said.

Mikey blinked up at him, giving him his best innocent little brother face. “Why’s that?”

“It’s complicated,” he replied, which usually meant that it wasn’t, and he just didn’t want to say the reason.

“Hit me.”

“Because this is what I do,” Donnie’s voice cracked a little as he spoke, but there didn’t seem to be any approaching tears. “I prepare for everything. I build. I fix things. I… it’s not like anyone else can do it. You need me— please, don’t try to deny it. I know you do.”

“I do,” Mikey replied, simply. “I need all of you guys. I was going crazy without my daily Donnie fix. You don’t get it, man.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Donnie said. “There was so much. Losing the– the old lair. It felt like I failed. It’s my job to prevent things like that happening. And Gram Gram—” he slapped a hand over his mouth, only barely jostling the pile, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Leo shifted underneath them, his eyes shut, but undeniably awake. Donnie didn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t know,” Donnie whispered, broken. “It’s so much. I’m tired of failing people. I couldn’t do that again.”

“You’ve never failed us, Donnie,” Mikey whispered.

“That’s an objective lie,” Donnie snapped. “I’ve failed you many times. Overestimated my own brilliance and flew too close to the sun. Had one of my inventions hurt you. Not been able to move fast enough, so one of you got hurt. Not prepared for things I should have known about.”

“Okay, but—”

“And even if that wasn’t the case, and I had a one hundred percent success rate,” Donnie continued, steamrolling over him. “I’ve done nothing but fail Dad.”

Mikey’s mouth flew open. He didn’t know what to say to that, because he didn’t know what the metric was for winning Dad’s love. Sometimes it felt like he’d been in their lives forever, and sometimes Mikey would completely forget about him. When he needed a protector, his mind would go to Raph. And even if there was a metric— he didn’t know if Donnie even fit on it.

“Are you thinking about the derby?” Mikey asked.

“I’m thinking about a lot of things,” Donnie replied. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to get him to love me. I’ve— I’ve tried.”

“We’re not like Dad,” Mikey assured. “You don’t have to do anything for us to love you.”

He couldn’t bring himself to say Dad loves you, because that didn’t matter. Donnie may have already known. Dad nursed his wounds and soothed his tears and tucked him into bed when they were little, just like he had with the rest of them. But he also did a lot of other questionable stuff, too, that made him feel used. There was no taking that back.

“You haven’t seen me not doing anything before,” Donnie said. “You’d change your mind. Trust me, Angelo.”

“Aren’t you tired?” Mikey asked, already knowing the answer.

“Such is the nature of being Donatello,” Donnie responded, faint. He closed his eyes, face softly illuminated by the light of Mikey’s phone. The bags under his eyes looked so pronounced. Suddenly, this didn’t feel like progress much, anymore. “I don’t know when I haven’t been…”

A few days ago, Mikey had pondered what the terrible alternative to fine could have been, because Donnie had said you’ve never seen me fine. He hadn’t really wanted an answer, but now he had it. He was tired. Looking at the state of him, drifting off to sleep, it was clear that all of that pain was starting to collect its toll.

Leo cracked his eyes open and shifted, looking Mikey in the eyes. They exchanged a sad, knowing look. The two loudest in the family rendered to solemn silence.

What’s the derby? Leo mouthed.

I’ll tell you later, Mikey mouthed back.

Leo paused, casting a glance to Donnie, and then back to Mikey. I think we need to talk to Dad.

Mikey pulled Donnie’s sleeping form just a little closer and nodded vigorously in agreement.

After the whole Donnie running away thing, something had shifted drastically in his behavior, and Raph couldn’t discern whether or not the change was positive or not.

He wasn’t desperate to run anymore. He didn’t try to make a break for it, although that could have just been because he knew they were hypervigilant after everything, and they were gonna be for a while. He ate when they fed him, held full conversations, didn’t protest when they held him close. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

Leo vaguely said they’d worked “it” out in some way, but he wasn’t really clarifying what that meant. Whatever it was, it was keeping him from constantly freaking out. His mouth gave a little dissatisfied twitch when they brought up the idea of taking a more long term break, but he took everything like a champ without much complaint.

No, the problem that he was so docile. And the veins had gone down to about his shoulder and hadn’t moved for way too long. They made a huge jump of progress with him, and then suddenly froze in time, and Donnie wasn’t giving any indication as to why.

Obviously, because Raph’s two other brothers were eagle-eyed about these things to a scary extent, he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Do you think he’s upset with us?” Mikey asked, the second Donnie had fallen asleep in the pile. He’d been in and out all the time, but that seemed more venom-related than anything else. It  was clearly taking a lot out of him.

“He’s kinda been upset,” Raph countered. “But the venom wasn’t really stoppin’. Maybe something else is going on?”

Leo tapped his pencil against his chin. He’d acquired a clipboard and paper about four days into the whole discovery, and he’d usually only take it out when Donnie was asleep. He’d also refuse to let Raph and Mikey see it, but he easily assumed that was just because they both went insane with too much overwhelming input, especially when it came to health stuff.

“I’ve been keeping track of his temp,” Leo explained. “I think his body’s just burning through the venom. Kind of an it gets worse before it gets better situation, but I’ll probably— ugh. Need to talk to Draxum for more information. Eugh I hate how that sounds in my mouth.”

“I’m glad you and Barry are working it out,” Mikey chirped, earnest. “I knew you could do it!”

Leo looked horrified at the idea of it. Raph couldn’t help but snicker at the look on his face.

“I’m not even gonna justify that with a response,” Leo said, visibly fighting to keep his disgust down. “Can I borrow your phone? I don’t got mine at the moment and Draxum’s more likely to actually pick up when you call.”

Mikey nodded and handed it over. Leo squirmed out of the turtle pile, flashed them a thumbs up, and then moved to step out of the room.

Raph leaned back with a sigh. Even though this was the only real solution to the whole Donnie-is-cursed problem, he couldn’t help but feel like they were sitting ducks. If it’d been literally any other problem, they could’ve gone to find a cure, and there’s a high chance it would’ve included punching some people. Which was actually something he could do.

And if anyone but Donnie had been bit… he had to stamp down that line of thinking the second it appeared, because he was getting a good sense that was the problem. He trusted Donnie with his whole life. If Raph wasn’t able to handle something complicated and confusing, he’d go to Donnie.

The worst thing about the whole situation was that Donnie had a point when he said he was the only one who could build the lair from the ground up. None of them had any idea how to do that. They usually just got in his way when they tried to help. And he still wasn’t done.

Mikey nestled into his side, looking up at him with big curious eyes. “What’cha thinkin’ about?”

“The lair,” Raph replied earnestly. “All of Don’s work on it. Do you think he would’a come to us if he didn’t have to do all’a this?”

“I dunno,” Mikey said, visibly considering it. “He really likes to hide stuff, sure, but… I think all of this is really getting to him. And, um,” he paused, looking away to bite his lip. “I think he thinks it’s his fault Gram Gram and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N died.”

“Oh,” Raph choked.

“I know you weren’t really close with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N like me and Donnie were, but, uh…” Mikey choked out a nervous little laugh. “Raph, he was alive. Donnie was basically his dad. He completely freaked when he ran away that one time, you don’t get it.”

“Oh,” Raph repeated, because it was all he could think to say. “Oh.”

He looked down at Donnie, restlessly panting in their arms. He hadn’t really known much about S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, since he mostly stuck to the lab, but he’d retained the personality they’d programmed in, and he’d… well, seemed alive, sure. But he hadn’t really fully processed that he was a whole living person and not just a good AI. A whole living person that Donnie felt responsible for in the way Raph felt responsible for him.

If he’d walked in on Donnie dead on the night he learned about the curse, if he’d been too late when he should have known, it probably would have killed him too. He wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt and shame and horror of it all. And Donnie was walking around with that for over a month without telling them.

Raph wondered if he ever would have known, if Mikey hadn’t brought it up now. Vaguely he remembered something similar back when Donnie had yelled at him that night, that they were dead because of him , but Raph had been so horrified by everything else that he hadn’t been able to process it. He would have never considered it at all if Mikey hadn’t mentioned it.

“What are we supposed to do?” Raph said, voice cracking.

Mikey didn’t seem to have a response to that, hanging his head. Even if he did, it wouldn’t have mattered, because Donnie’s breaths begun to pick up and his brow furrowed in the same way he did when he was a kid having a nightmare.

“Oh, shit,” Raph breathed. “Hey, buddy, wake up. You’re dreamin’. It’s okay.”

Donnie threw his head to the side with a wheeze and whimper. Mikey shifted to shake him gently, lip wobbling when their brother didn’t immediately rouse. “Would it make it worse if he slapped him?”

“Yes??” Raph replied, very aware of how comically shocked he sounded. 

Mikey gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. Raph adjusted Donnie and reached out to feel his forehead, making a concerned noise when he noticed his temperature rising again, mumbling incoherently under his breath. He leaned over to check the venom and sighed and relief to see it hadn’t changed.

“It’s okay,” Raph tried again, rubbing his shell. “You’re okay. You’re just dreaming.”

“No,” Donnie whispered, in pain, “no, no no no, I’m sorry, no…”

Mikey made a little wounded sound and stopped shaking him to recollect himself.

“You can do it,” Raph coaxed. “Wake up, bud, c’mon.”

With one gigantic gasp, Donnie twisted out of Raph’s grip and wrenched himself awake, tucking his hands against his chest as he shivered violently. Mikey had to move out of the way to avoid being knocked over again, flinching back in shock.

“Donnie?” Mikey asked, careful.

“No, no, I–” Donnie curled into himself, startling a bit when Raph placed a hand on his back but not moving out of the way. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his gaze, breathing hard. “Wha— where… Leo? Leo?”

“He’s just makin’ a phone call, buddy, he’s okay,” Raph reassured.

Donnie didn’t seem to hear him at all, eyes hazy and confused. “Leo?! Leo!” he cried, panicked.

“Should I go get him?” Mikey asked.

“Yeah,” Raph said, a pit forming in his stomach.

Mikey shot to his feet and ran out of the room, leaving Donnie and Raph in the nest alone. Donnie only panicked further as he watched Mikey retreat, letting out a tiny mewl of pain that sent all of Raph’s instincts lighting up in an instant. The glow on his bicep pulsed.

“Oh, shit,” Raph hissed, turning so he could kneel in front of Donnie. He reached out to touch him and Donnie flinched away, eyes clouded with fever. “It’s just me, it’s Raph, it’s okay. You’re not alone. We’re not leavin’ you alone. He’s comin’ right back.”

“Leo—” Donnie cut himself off with a sob, curling into himself. Raph wrapped around him, pulling him close and rubbing his back soothingly as he started to cry. 

“He’s coming, I promise.”

Donnie let out a high pitched whine and dug his claws into his arms, trying to wrench his way out of Raph’s grip when he grabbed his hands to stop him. He chirped and trilled and made desperate calling noises that were making Raph physically start to shake as he held him back from hurting himself.

The pounding of footsteps echoed in the hall, and Leo appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and panicked. He took in the scene and raced over without a word, practically falling into the nest in his haste to get to Donnie. Mikey poked his head in and came in at a slower pace.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Leo rushed out. “I’m here, Tello, I’m sorry. I didn’t leave you.”

Donnie hiccuped and turned to throw himself into Leo’s arms, openly sobbing. Raph wrapped himself around his back, bracketing them both in and letting him cry it out. Mikey squirmed in next to Leo and didn’t speak a word.

“Le—Lee–Le-oo,” Donnie cried, barely able to speak in between his gasps, burying his face into Leo’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Leo repeated, rubbing his arms. “I should’ve thought that one through. I’m sorry.”

“Where were you?” Raph growled, bristling.

Leo gave him a crooked, worried smile. “Uhh, I had a bit of a heated gamer moment,” he said, sounding a bit embarrassed. “Didn’t really wanna yell with Donnie asleep in the other room. Guess that came back to bite me, huh?”

“You seriously gotta get that shit with Draxum figured out,” Raph rumbled, slowing his roll when Donnie twitched in their arms. “Why’d you yell at him now?”

“He didn’t tell me some important things, he deserved it,” Leo dismissed. “Sorry, Mikey.”

Mikey sniffled. “He can be stupid sometimes. We’re chill,” he mumbled.

“What didn’t he tell you?” Raph asked, trying hard not to panic.

“Eugh boy,” Leo wheezed, smile even more strained. He tightened his grip on Donnie, who was silent and still outside of the tremble of his shoulders. “Are you in the right headspace to take bad news right now?”

Raph was never in the right headspace to take bad news. “Oh God. What is it?”

“So, uh,” Leo was pointedly not staring at him when he spoke. “For one, my theory about it getting worse? Yeah, that was true. But apparently it’s supposed to be like— worse worse. Aka he’s going to be in a lot of pain and there is literally nothing we can do about it.”

Raph gaped, too furious to control his volume. “AND DRAXUM KNEW AND DIDN’T TELL US THAT??”

Leo nodded vigorously. “Exactly! That’s what I’m saying!”

“Keep it down!” Mikey snapped, immediately silencing them.

Donnie had gone stone-still at some point while they yelled, muscles locked tight, completely and utterly silent, and Raph grimaced. “Sorry.”

“I think we’re almost out of the woods,” Leo said, calmer, even while Raph was still shaking. “But everything’s gonna be a lot more intense pretty soon. We’re getting to the hard part. It’ll be really short, at least.”

“Everything’s felt like the hard part,” Mikey whined.

Raph thought to Donnie, arms shredded by his claws, screaming at the slightest touch of his knee, and couldn’t help but agree with him. 

“Yeah,” Leo agreed. “It’s gonna suck. At this point I’m considering just sedating him.”

“I will actually kill you,” Donnie said, startling all of them. “Rat poison.”

They all pulled away slightly to let Donnie wipe at his eyes, sniffling greatly and looking ashamed of himself. Leo’s nervous grin softened into something genuine, relieved. “Glad you’re back with us, man. You catch all that?”

“Some of it,” Donnie replied, voice still wobbling. It sounded involuntary, at least. “I’m so sick of crying. It’s disgusting.”

“It’s good for your feelings,” Mikey said. “Do you wanna lay down?”

Donnie slithered out of their arms and flopped down onto the blankets. Mikey grabbed the shark plushie and handed it to him, and he grabbed it without question, sticking his face into it. Leo rolled his eyes and flopped down next to him, and Donnie reached out and clung, plushie squished between them, and not much unlike their first night in the pile.

“My feelings do not feel good when I cry,” Donnie countered. “In fact, they actually feel worse, and I would like to stop doing it indefinitely.”

Mikey squirmed his way into the pile, and Raph followed suit so they were all back to normal. Leo reached back to grab his clipboard and pencil and started jotting something down, halfheartedly smacking Donnie away when he tried to see what was on it.

“At this point I like it when you know less things,” Leo said. “We’re handling it.”

“I can handle it,” Donnie growled. “I am not a helpless child for being sick.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Leo did not sound remotely convinced. 

“I’d still love you if you were a helpless child,” Mikey said, with a joking lilt to his voice. Considering the way Donnie turned to stone between them, he’d still hit right on the mark on purpose, the little shit.

“This is an interesting alternative to the worm question,” Donnie wheezed. 

“I’m just sayin’,” Mikey replied with a yawn. 

“Say less.”

Leo leaned over to flick Donnie on the forehead, a silent shut up. Donnie yelped, and the two of them immediately devolved into a slap fight. Raph was too relieved to see him up and at it and arguing to be upset about them smacking each other around.

Until Leo started hitting Donnie with his clipboard. Then he put a stop to it.

Dad had been coming in every once and a while to check on them, ever since the whole thing began. Raph had been oddly cagey about letting him into the pile at all, mostly because the fact that things were complicated between Dad and Donnie specifically was pretty well-known by everyone in the family. (And frankly, things were complicated between Dad and Raph, too, which made Raph a lot more prone to getting defensive on Donnie’s behalf.)

Leo hadn’t really had a good opportunity to talk to him about… everything. Donnie’s words to Mikey had kind of been keeping him up at night, especially with the context of what he’d heard in the tunnels. He was starting to piece together everything and it was so overwhelming and daunting— this was usually the kind of thing that was reserved to one of the others instead of him.

But Mikey, as kind as he was, struggled with his backbone, especially when it came to Dad. And if Raph could have resolved it, he already would have. The topic was a little too personal for him to be able to go into it calm and unbiased.

And a small, helpless part of Leo just wanted to do something. Donnie did so much for him all the freaking time, and Leo was tired of feeling useless in return. He knew Donnie didn’t mind, deep down, but that was kind of the problem. He didn’t want them to help him. And his brothers all had their thing, and Leo didn’t. What the hell did face man even mean? He’d just kind of made it up to cope. He’d been surprised when they’d all gone along with it.

So when it was time for him to go to bed and for Mikey to take shift, Leo didn’t wake his littlest brother up. Bored, he flipped through the papers on his clipboard and waited, because he hadn’t had a chance to drag his phone into the pile yet. He’d been kind of distracted with everything and Donnie got extra upset when he left.

Eventually, Dad poked his head into the room, and paused when he saw Leo there.

“Ah, Blue,” he said. “I thought it was Orange’s turn on shift.”

You’ve been paying attention? Leo wanted to ask. Instead, he said, “Eh, insomniac moment. Didn’t feel like waking the little guy when I was gonna be up anyway. You know how it goes.”

“I am sorry you’ve been living with that,” Dad sounded solemn. “Is there anything you may need?”

Leo pretended to think it over. “My phone?” he asked. “I’m bored. Also maybe a bottle of water. Can’t really go and get it myself.” He gestured minutely at Donnie, who had turned to perform a very Mikey-esque octopus cling on him. He really hadn’t wanted Leo to go anywhere earlier. 

Dad didn’t even say anything kids on they god dang phones -esque. He simply nodded and disappeared out of the doorway. Leo sighed in relief and turned to toss the clipboard over to the couch again, wrapping an arm around Donnie’s shoulders when all the jostling made him whine.

Maybe a minute later, Dad returned, quietly handing the two objects to him. Leo set his phone on the ground and took a swig of the water bottle, because he’d been parched for like four hours now and it was starting to get to him.

“Suddenly I feel like I am ten years younger, and trying to get you to move to separate rooms for the first time,” Dad sounded soft and fond. “It has been a long time since I have seen Purple cling to you like this.”

“Yeah, honestly I thought it was just him not liking touch, but I think it’s safe to say I’m tossing that theory in the garbage,” he threw his open arm back around Donnie’s shoulders again. “Before, I was like… I don’t know, I’d let Donnie come to me like a cat most of the time. Now he’s just given me an excuse to annoy him more.”

“How is he?” Dad asked.

“We’re at the hard part now,” Leo replied, rubbing circles into his shoulder. The veins were moving at a snail’s pace, but it was leagues better from before. “His temperature’s been all fucky for a bit, but not super bad. His body’s working on overtime to get it out of his system, so he’s gonna be messed up for a bit.”

“Language,” Dad said, on impulse.

“Whatevs.”

Dad reached out tentatively to smooth away the stress lines on Donnie’s forehead, with the kind of hesitance that one would when touching an angry cat. Maybe he expected Leo to bite and not Donnie, considering how furious he’d been with his first confrontation with Draxum. Whether or not he did really depended on their upcoming conversation.

“I cannot help but feel bad I had let it get this far,” Dad admitted, unknowingly firing the opening shot.

Leo hummed noncommittally. “It’s kind of our fault, not yours,” he said, with convincing nonchalance, even though just thinking about it was igniting a fire in his chest, “considering we’ve actually been there for him this whole time.” And we actually pay attention to him.

Something sad dawned on Dad’s face, but he didn’t flinch. “I know,” he said.

“Do you?” Leo looked unconcerned, tilting his head like a curious dog. “Because I think Donnie seriously still thinks you don’t like him. Why is that?”

Dad didn’t look him in the eyes, still watching Donnie’s face, pressed against Leo’s chest and twisted with pain, even in his sleep. Something about him really only watching Donnie at all when he was asleep only served to make Leo angrier.

“I can’t help but feel bad I didn’t say anything about this earlier,” Leo continued, deadly calm. “Because whatever’s been going on between you two, it’s been haunting him all his life. And right now he thinks we only care about him when he’s turning himself into a slave for us. I can’t help but ask what I did to make him think that little of me.”

He breathed, in and out. Let the silence soak in as he went to get his thoughts back together before he really exploded. This was anger he’d been holding onto for a long, long time. He was suddenly very glad his brothers were asleep and couldn’t see it.

“I played into it,” Leo softened his voice, just a bit, but let the harshness begin to creep through. “He spun this whole web of lies and he turned me into just another person to abuse him, because he loved me, and because he thought that was how he deserved to be loved back. He thought I’d throw him out the second I didn’t hypothetically need him anymore. And I didn’t even know. I thought he was happy and that everything was fine and dandy.”

He’d said a lot of shit to Donnie when he didn’t know about the bite that he regretted. But his words in the medbay were the ones that haunted him the most. You’ve never struggled with it before. Your thing’s so cool when it’s done by literally anyone but you. What’s wrong with you?

“That’s just how it’s always been,” Leo admitted. “Like, something happens and it’s either oh, Raph will stop it or oh, Donnie will fix it and I don’t have to worry after that. That’s like, their thing. They pretty much built our whole lives from the ground up and I didn’t…”

He had to pause to take in a deep breath, not wanting to fall apart in front of his dad. He looked down at Donnie’s face as he slept. Brows furrowed in pain, mouth open as he panted, but better. So much better. Anything was better than the screaming, crying, begging mess Raph had brought to them at the night of the seminar.

“I didn’t realize how much it must’ve been weighing on him,” he said, voice softened back down to a whisper. “Now it feels like something’s broken and Donnie can’t fix it. And I don’t know how to start and do it myself. Because it’s never been my job.”

Dad looked ashamed, but mostly thoughtful. Leo watched him visibly consider something, and then smother it down to compartmentalize for later, or maybe just to hide it. He didn’t know what it was, and he wasn’t super desperate to find out.

“There is no one more perceptive and clever than you, Blue,” Dad said. “I do not doubt you would be able to help him, even feeling around blindly in the dark.  But the start of this is not your fault. I believe it is solely mine.”

Leo didn’t know what to say to that. “Maybe,” he said, a tad contemplative.

“Purple has always been… the most difficult of you,” Dad said, and when Leo narrowed his eyes, he continued quickly, “because he is undeniably different. I did not know how to engage in his interests, or shape myself around him to accommodate him. Admittedly it is not how I had been raised myself.”

Leo had a feeling. He’d seen quite a bit of it in his memories. He nodded, a silent cue to go on.

 “I had been born with many expectations, as a Hamato,” Dad’s words were slow and drawling, like he was considering his words very carefully. “We have always been a family that valued legacy, conformity. And that was something I feared and resisted for so long, but once I had begun to raise you…” he paused, leaning over to look at Donnie, “I suppose I had internalized quite a bit of what I had been told.”

Donnie had mostly kept his arguments with Dad private, and Leo could tell it was because of embarrassment and shame. But from the ones Leo had witnessed, it was always about the things that made him fundamentally Donnie. Relying on his tech had been such a gigantic point of contention between the two of them for so long. Dad had acted like he thought the support was going to go away, like there was no permanence to the things Donnie had to rely on to be happy.

And then he’d gone and reaped the rewards of his work without even thanking him for years.

Maybe Mikey would have something deep to say about that, but he was draped across Donnie’s other side in Raph’s lap, sound asleep. Leo had no way to justify it, or try to make sense of what made dad tick. He could only listen, and wait for him to figure it out himself.

“It pains me to say that I gave up,” Dad said. “And by the time I returned, Donatello had begun to act like he never needed me at all. He worked so hard to provide for me, and he had never even asked for me to give it a second thought, because he had assumed I would not have listened. I took it at face value as well, when my words mattered the most. I failed him.”

Donnie’s words at the seminar. The breaking point. The crater on the wall. What I want is to hear a SINGLE FUCKING ‘THANK YOU’! His words in the tunnel, long broken, hysterical with panic. I haven’t earned it yet.

“Yeah,” Leo agreed, soft.

“But I suppose that has always been my problem,” Dad said with an edge of bitterness. “I rush in. I do not think. How I was treated and seen always mattered so much more than the good I did,” he closed his eyes to take a deep breath, “Jiji had warned me that thinking only in how much I could take instead of give would be my downfall. I am ashamed of how long it took me to listen. I cared more about your cooperation than anything else for so long.”

“And Donnie’s so stubborn,” Leo added. And he can’t help not being what you wanted.

“I raised a bunch of boys just like myself,” Dad said, fond. “It is a wonder that you all came out so well-rounded and responsible, because that was certainly not my influence. I am so proud. No one deserves to hear it more than him and Raphael. They have spent much too long doing my job.”

“Dad…”

“No more worrying about me and Donatello. I will give everything to repair it, my baby Blue,” Dad reached out to pinch Leo’s cheek, and he snorted and batted his hand away, freezing when the movement made Donnie shift. Dad looked more relaxed, but there was still something haunted in his eyes. “I am proud of you too, Leonardo. You are a very capable young man.”

“You know it, Pops,” Leo lied effortlessly with a wink.

Dad smiled. It was strained but earnest.

With a few parting words, he lifted himself up and left Leo to his shift. Leo felt himself relax the second he walked out of sight, and only in his absence did he realize that he’d been subconsciously guarding Donnie the whole time. Probably the reason Dad had been so nervous and solemn.

With a sigh, he picked up his phone, googled tips about helping relatives who were dealing with self-harm, scrolled past all the hotlines he couldn’t call, and committed himself wholeheartedly to his task of the night.

In total, it’d been about a week and a half before the topic of what are we going to do about the whole crime fighting thing finally came up. Because Raph was antsy as heck about it and Mikey kind of agreed, all things considered. They already knew what Donnie was going to say, and decided his opinion was to be disregarded because it was bad. So they didn’t tell him.

Mikey loved helping people, was the thing. He kind of understood Donnie’s perspective about his own work, because being separated from the battlefield was so boring, and he felt like he was meant to help people. It was the right thing to do.

And it really, really didn’t help that Donnie had installed a whole alarm to track crime in the city.

“I don’t know,” Leo said. “We took a break before, didn’t we? Why’s this any different?”

“We took a break ‘cause we had to,” Raph clapped back, more worried than angry. “This is a huge deal, Leo. They’ve got hostages and everything. It feels wrong to stay here.”

Leo narrowed his eyes. “Is this not us having to, Raph?” he snapped, gesturing at the sleeping body of their brother. They’d all been on edge after Leo delivered the news of there being a spike incoming. The uncertainty of it coming at any moment was freaking them all out.

Mikey let them argue, staying curled up around Donnie and churring in a fruitless attempt to block out the noise for him. Although he kind of agreed with Raph more on the whole thing, the idea of leaving Donnie behind made him really anxious.

“We’re heroes,” Raph insisted. “I can’t— the idea of leavin’ him behind makes me feel sick, but I can’t just stay here and do nothing about all of the bad shit going on out there either.”

“We should’ve disabled the alarm,” Leo grumbled. “Although I guess only Donnie knew how to, huh?”

The room fell back into tense, guilty silence. It’d been doing that a lot lately. Mostly immobile, they’d been forced to think a lot, and pretty much every conclusion they came to with Donnie asleep completely sucked. It felt like nail after nail of guilt being hammered in for their negligence. But Mikey didn’t really know if doing the right thing should be put on the wayside because they were guilty. Or maybe Raph was just getting to him.

They’d just have to compromise.

“How ‘bout this,” Mikey piped up. “You guys can go handle all the big stuff, and I’ll stay behind with Donnie. Everyone wins.”

Raph seemed to like the idea, but Leo looked reluctant. They gave him a moment to process the idea and come to his own conclusion. It was interesting to see his brain work so openly. After a second, he finally nodded.

“Okay, cool,” Leo said, a bit strained. “You’re right.”

Raph looked surprised. “I am?”

“Yep, I’m agreeing with you this time, crazy,” Leo did jazz hands to emphasize the point. “I’m not gonna say any what-ifs because that’ll definitely jinx it. But it makes sense. I can portal and you’re— y’know, all you about this whole heroism thing. Two shakes and we’ll come right back.”

“Right,” Raph replied, a little breathy. “Right, right. Yeah! Okay. We’ll be back in a sec, Mikey.”

Mikey gave them a polite little wave as they left to go gear up. He adjusted so Donnie was laying under his arm and plugged in his headphones, politely watching YouTube compilations of old Kondescending Kitchen episodes on his phone. They’d really downgraded in quality after the whole host change. 

Raph and Leo took their sweet time, but Donnie was somewhat peaceful next to him, so Mikey didn’t worry about it. At some point he’d found himself watching Warrior Cats AMVs to admire the animation, and then a longer letsplay from an old gaming youtuber he’d been following for like, four years now. 

Maybe an hour and a half passed of just that, before Donnie started to shift underneath him. Mikey paused the video and peered down, expecting him to have just adjusted his position, before he straightened at the sight of his eyes feverish and cracked open.

Mikey turned his phone and ripped out his earbuds. “Donnie?” he asked.

Donnie didn’t acknowledge him. He started up that violent shivering, listless as he’d been the first day they discovered the curse. Mikey sat up completely, hands hovering as his breath caught. Of course Leo had to jinx it when he literally said he wouldn’t.

He reached out to feel his brother’s forehead with the back of his hand, and flinched back at the searing heat there. Ohhhhh no. That couldn’t be good. Did the spike have to happen the second their big brothers went to go do the right thing—

“Papa?!” Mikey hollered. “Uh, DAD?!”

A pause. Donnie whined, high-pitched and pained.

Mikey screamed, “DAD! SOMETHING’S WRONG!”

His shoulders slumped at the sound of Dad approaching. He bolted into the doorway, eyes wide, and held the frame, gasping hard. “What? What is it?!”

“The– the spike, I think,” Mikey panted, “he’s— he’s really hot an’ out of it, something’s wro-wrohng, Raph and Leo are ouh-out—”

“Give me a moment,” Dad said, disappearing into the hallway again. Mikey held Donnie’s hands so he wouldn’t scratch, worriedly brushing at the sweat beading on his forehead, until he returned with a thermometer. 

“Put this in his mouth, Orange,” Dad said, voice wobbling but expression intense.

Mikey nodded and took it from him. Donnie was already panting, so it was easy to slide it in, but he spit it out the second it landed on his tongue with a shrill keen. Mikey grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to steady him and he tried to pull away, whining.

“It’s just us!” Mikey tried, shaking him a bit. “We’re just taking your temp, I promise! It’s okay!”

Donnie’s brows scrunched together. “Leo–” he called.

“He’ll be here soon, you’re okay!” Mikey’s hands were shaking too much to hold it. Dad took it back from him, pushing him away from Donnie to check himself, holding his jaw steady while he slotted it in. 

Whatever he saw, it made his eyes blow wide. “Orange,” he said, faint. “Where are your brothers?”

“They’re out doing a mission,” Mikey gasped, quickly spiraling at the sight of Dad’s terribly concealed panic. “Why? How ba-bad is it?! Is he—”

“You do not want to see it, I promise,” Dad cut him off to say. “Listen to me. I am going to run a lukewarm bath. We will need to somehow transport Donatello there, because we need to get his fever down now.”

Mikey’s chest was heaving. Everything was disorienting, spinning around him, as the panic exploded in his chest. For the first time in days, Donnie cried out in pain, squeezing his hand hard enough to cut off circulation.

“The panic button!” Mikey cried suddenly. “On my belt! I can— I’ll go get it!”

Dad didn’t respond. He leapt to his feet and rushed out of the room, and it took all of Mikey’s resolve to tear his hand away from Donnie’s, leaving him crying and alone on the floor as he bolted to his room.

Mikey hadn’t touched his belt in so long. He tore through his dresser, gasping frantically, digging through his clothes and gear until he finally, finally found his belt. He smashed his fist on the panic button hard and threw it to the floor, clutching his chest as the vertigo nearly made him collapse.

And then Donnie, from across the lair, screamed.

Mikey let adrenaline carry his feet as he soared through the lair, crashing into the doorframe as he tripped his way back into the room, into the nest, where Donnie was screaming and crying in misery, kicking away blankets and thrashing on the floor. 

“I’m here!” Mikey shouted over him, trying to grab him. He received a swift kick to the stomach for his efforts, falling back into the nest and having to push himself back up. “I’m here, Dee, I promise! I’m here, I’m never gonna leave, never ever—”

Dad rushed into the room, breathing hard, and fell to his knees beside Mikey, throwing out a hand to steady him. Donnie wailed like he didn’t hear them, clawing at the sheets and kicking out involuntarily as the pain and fever and fear spiked. Mikey couldn’t get a hold on him at all, so all he could really do about it was try and talk him through.

Donnie fell quiet, and Mikey hoped to God that his body had finally let him pass out from the pain. 

Then he started convulsing on the floor.

“He’s seizing!” Dad cried. “Michelangelo, help me turn him onto his side!”

Running on panicked autopilot, he grabbed him and helped roll him over as he seized, letting out little pained yips as he struggled to get in a breath. Mikey had never really seen a seizure before, but he knew he couldn’t touch them, even if that was the reason Donnie was seizing the first place.

A flash of electric blue. A portal ripping into the air. Leo came leaping out of it, skittering across the floor, panting like a madman. His eyes were wild and furious. He was covered in dust and blood. He took one look at the scene and shattered.

“DONNIE!” he howled.

Dad shot to his feet, running to push Leo back as he bolted for his twin. Raph leapt through the portal just at the right time to catch his next words. “Leonardo, he is having a seizure, you cannot touch him!” he shouted.

“LET ME GO!” Leo screamed. “LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO—”

Raph darted forward and grabbed him from under his arms, dragging him back. The portal snapped shut. Leo’s odachi clattered on the floor loud enough for Mikey to cringe. Leo screeched in rage and clawed and bit, tears rolling down his face. It was the first time that Mikey had seen him truly lose his cool since this all began.

“Leo, calm down!” Raph shouted. “Calm down, you’re not helping!”

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” Leo howled, twisting and kicking at him futilely. “YOU DID THIS! YOU—”

Donnie’s seizing slowed down to muscle spasms. His eyes were half-lidded and distant, catatonic— Mikey choked out a sob and reached out to hold his hand. Raph let go of Leo when he noticed, letting him race to his twin’s side and gather him up in his arms. Mikey threw himself back and let him, because he really didn’t want to get on the other side of that feral anger.

“Donnie, Donnie—” Leo cried miserably. “I’m so sorry, I said I wasn’t gonna leave, I’m sorry, god you’re so warm, fuck I’m so sorry I’m sorry I love you I promise I promise I’m sorry—”

Donnie groaned, a helpless little noise that made Leo sob. 

Dad rushed forward to put a hand on his shoulder, his own lip wobbling. “His temperature is too high. I’ve run a cool bath. We need to get him there now.”

Leo clenched his eyes shut, sniffled, and nodded, picking up Donnie oh so gently despite the way that both of them were shaking. He didn’t even ask for Raph to carry him, didn’t look at him. He just followed Dad as the two of them raced to the bathroom.

Mikey finally let the panic consume him and dropped to the floor like a stone.

Raph was at his side in an instant. “Hey– Mikey, hey. It’s okay.”

“I c-can’t– I can’t breathe—”

Raph gently grabbed his chin and lifted his head, pulling Mikey’s arm to his chest. “Can you follow my breaths, bud? Like this,” he took a deep, exaggerated breath, and Mikey’s chest hitched as he tried to copy and failed. “That’s okay. You can try again, ‘s okay. Like this. Thaaaat’s it. You’re doin’ well, just keep breathin’...”

“Ra–Raphie,” Mikey weeped. 

“I’m here,” Raph whispered, tears streaking down his face. “I gotcha. We’ll get through this as a team, aight?”

Mikey sat up, deliberately trying to breathe slow. He choked, “Donnie—”

“I really dropped the ball on that one, I know,” Raph’s eyes swum with guilt. “We knew somethin’ like this was gonna happen. We’ve got him. He’s not gonna die. He might need us, though. You think you can handle that?”

Mikey had to. He had to prove he was just as strong as he was them, that he could handle it. “Yeah,” he replied, wiping at his tears and snot.

Raph held out his hand. Mikey took it.

They walked into a disaster.

Leo’s tears had dried up, and he was scarily calm again, like he usually was in the face of medical matters. Dad was next to him, speaking in a low voice as he held Donnie down by the shoulders, visibly shaking with exertion. The floor was covered in water.

Donnie was sobbing like someone was killing him.

Leo caught them in his peripheral. “Someone hold his legs!” he barked.

Raph rushed forward to comply. Mikey slotted his way in next to Dad and grabbed one of Donnie’s hands, rubbing his thumb over the knuckle and softly shushing him as he cried and squirmed in the water. 

“It’s okay, Dee,” he whined. “It’s just the fever talking, okay? You’re gonna be okay!”

“Stop it,” Donnie cried, hand flexing in Mikey’s. “Stop! Stop, stop—”

“If you’d stop squirming so I could save you,” Leo hissed, but Mikey saw the tears pricking in his eyes again. “You make testing my patience an Olympic sport–”

Mikey couldn’t help but choke out a hysterical laugh, despite the circumstances. Donnie would’ve been calling him uncreative if he’d been conscious. Looking at him now, squeezing Mikey like a lifeline and hiccuping and whining, was like looking at a different person.

“It hurts!” Donnie sobbed. “Please, it– it hurts, Leo, it– hurts!”

Leo’s arms trembled. A vein in his neck pulsed with how hard he was holding his jaw shut. Dad reached out to rub soothing circles into Leo’s shell, trying desperately to keep him calm even as his composure began to once again crack at the seams.

“Just a little longer,” Raph soothed. “You’ve got this, Don. You’ve got this.”

Donnie tipped his head back with another outpour of whines, slowly slurring down into nothing. Leo’s arms relaxed and he finally took a breath as Donnie’s eyes fluttered shut, his consciousness fading. His hand went limp in Mikey’s.

“Is it over?” Mikey asked.

“Yeah, I—” Leo shuddered. “Yeah. It’s not glowing anymore.”

Mikey leaned in to look over. Donnie had fallen unconscious on his side, showing off the bite, veins visibly beginning to creep back as his fever broke. 

Raph thumped his forehead on the rim of the tub loud enough for all of them to jump. He let out a sigh that was pure, audible victory , after a week and a half of nothing but failure. “Thank God,” he rasped, sounding so, so old. “Thank God. Thank fucking God.”

Dad didn’t correct his language. Raph made a point to never ever swear in front of him, but now he looked so exhausted. His shoulders shook as he sniffled with overwhelmed tears as the relief finally, finally crashed over all of them and they just got to breathe.

Leo fell back on his ass with the force of it, sliding to sit back against the cabinets, chest heaving. Dad reached over to drain the tub, looking solemn. Mikey stepped back and sat down next to Leo, leaning on his shoulder. Raph hid his face in his arms, silent and trembling.

 “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Leo said into the quiet, sounding ashamed.

“It’s okay,” Raph replied, similarly broken. “I shoulda listened.”

“You couldn’t have known. I should’ve been more clear.”

“I think,” Mikey said, cutting them both off, “that blaming ourselves for stuff is the reason all of this started in the first place.”

Both of them fell quiet, because what was there to say to that?

(There was so, so much to say.)

When Donnie woke, the first thing he registered was that it didn’t hurt anymore.

The second thing he registered was that he was so, so tired. 

The curse had been exhausting. It’d zapped his energy and made him feel dizzy and delirious. It’d been hard to walk, especially after he got a taste of what it was like to be bundled up with his brothers and temporarily free from the excruciating pain. 

But this was a different, better kind of tired. It was bone-deep, comforting, lulling. It felt like he’d just woken from a long rest, like after the time he’d had a long work binge and slept for three days straight. His brothers had been furious with him, but it’d felt so good. It’d been after their first fight with Shredder, actually.

It was still unusual, though. So Donnie shifted, bumping against someone curled around him, and hummed in confusion. Indistinct voices tried to talk to him, and he made an annoyed sound and curled up into himself, hugging the plushie in his arms.

The person curled against him reached over and rubbed his shell, trying to wake him up. When he stubbornly refused, they shook him a little with a beleaguered little sigh that didn’t actually sound that mad at all.

“Doooo~oonnie,” Leo singsonged in his ear. “Cariño, as much as I support you actually getting more decent freaking sleep, you’ve been out for like ten hours and you should probably eat and drink something. So.”

“Fuck off, Nardo,” Donnie grumbled. 

“See? You’re already feeling more like yourself,” Leo replied, shaking him again. Donnie heavily considered biting him. “Up and at ‘em, sleepyhead. Don’t you want pizza? We got meat lovers for you."

Oh. That bastard knew exactly how to bribe him. Donnie blinked rapidly to focus his vision, looking up at Leo. He had a very punchable grin plastered on his face, but he was so clearly relieved to see him not crying or feeling like shit. Donnie was relieved too, honestly. Big surprise.

Donnie also realized he was clinging to him like an octopus. Ah. Hm. Oh well.

“How you feeling?” Leo asked.

“Tired,” Donnie mumbled, sitting up. “In the good way. How’s the curse?”

Leo raised a brow and gestured to his bicep, imploring him to look for himself. Donnie looked over, relieved to see himself free of any dark veins. The bite was still darkened, but much less so than before, and it wasn’t glowing anymore. It didn’t look like a crater in his skin.

His forearms were also free of any bandaging. There were some scabs and scars there, but otherwise he looked fine. The stitches must’ve been taken out while he was out. He could vaguely remember Leo stitching him up at one point.

“You should be free to walk around now,” Leo explained. “But a lot of contact in general would probably be helpful until all of the discoloration is gone. And we’re not letting you work at all until I don’t even see it anymore. Doctor’s orders.”

Donnie shifted uncomfortably. “I—”

“And no, we’re not mad at you,” Leo said, poking him on the forehead sternly to stop his incoming spiral. “We’re not going to be mad at you for taking a break. All of the stuff you haven’t gotten to can wait. But we are probably taking the lock off your lab door.”

“...I suppose that’s fair,” Donnie grumbled.

“No reason to have one in the first place. I am ninety percent sure you don’t jack off in there.”

“Ew.”

“See? Exactly, point proven,” Leo shifted and leaned up a bit. “You want me to go get the others? We’re gonna have to talk about this, but we can hold it off if you don’t think you’re ready.”

He stopped to consider it. Actually consider it. “No use waiting,” he said. “Let’s just get it over with. As long as it’s not another Doctor Feelings seminar.”

Leo smiled gently, a little bitterly. “Like that went so well the first time.” He wrung his hands, looking guilty. “I’m sorry for what I said back there, by the way, I… God, I guess you kind of hit a nerve? It’s not like I blame you, but—”

“Do you dislike it when I call you stupid?” Donnie asked, cutting right to the chase. 

“I mean, I am stupid , but—”

“Ah, so you do,” Donnie steamrolled over him, refusing to take that shit. “Well, that’s fixable. I will clarify now that I have been joking the whole time. I think you’re incredibly clever, actually. I’ll be more careful with my wording to avoid that particular landmine.”

Leo let out a little laugh, blinking away tears in his eyes. “How come you’re doing this when it’s supposed to be about you? C’mon.”

Donnie shot him a knowing look. “Have you met me?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem,” Leo retorted, going to stand. “I’m gonna go get the others. Gimme a sec.”

It was odd, after so long of being in so much pain that he couldn’t think, watching Leo leave the room and not being doused in icy panic. He could tell himself he’d come back without a worry in the world, relaxing back on the blankets. It was even weirder for him to be alone without it hurting.

He kind of missed it. The nice kind of alone, where he could soak in the silence and appreciate the buzz in his chest that’d always rest there after being with his family. When his social battery went out and he could just bask in it.

Speaking of, Mikey was the first to hop through the door. He saw Donnie awake and relatively normal looking and beamed. “Donnie!” he cried, rushing forward to tackle him into a hug. Donnie made a squeaky toy noise as he wrapped his arms around his torso and squeezed.

“Ow,” Donnie deadpanned. “Hello, Angelo.”

“You’re feeling all normal now?” Mikey asked, excited, just as Raph poked his head into the doorway and invited himself in. “No more fever? Are you hurting anywhere?”

“I should be fine,” Donnie replied, rubbing his head affectionately. “If something happens, I’ll be diligent when it comes to informing you.”

“You have no idea how good it sounds to hear that after everything,” Raph breathed, sitting down next to them with a thump. “You actually mean that?”

Donnie did not. But now that Raph was looking at him like that, he couldn’t help but agree. Maybe he even meant it a little when he nodded, and he watched his oldest brother light up like a Christmas tree. If that made them feel better, maybe he would.

“The pizza. Has arrived!” Leo exclaimed as he danced through the door, holding the box in his hands. “It’s post difficult emotional conversation pizza, so you’re gonna have to earn it, kay?”

“I’m used to that, yes,” Donnie said blandly.

“Don’t make me feel bad for being funny, this is not your heart,” Leo whined, slapping it down just out of reach. He hopped over and wriggled behind Donnie, throwing his arms around his neck. “Now that I know you actually like it, you’re gonna have to put up with me being cuddly forever.”

Donnie sighed and leaned back into him, a little happy trill betraying how much he liked the sound of that. Mikey giggled and let out a chirp. Raph’s tail thumped against the blankets as he grinned, watching him like he was the center of the universe.

And Donnie was struck by the realization that he’d spent a long, long time being scared of this.

“I don’t even know where I should start,” he said guiltily. “I—”

“Hold on,” Leo said into his neck. “Shh. Not yet.”

Trusting him, Donnie held on. After a few seconds, the sound of footsteps made him perk up, and then Dad walked through the door, looking him straight in the eyes. Giving him his undivided attention.

“Wha… what?”

“It’s a family meeting,” Mikey said, like it was that simple. “Which means it’s mandatory for the whole family. Except Barry for some reason.”

“If I see that motherfucker in my home one more time I’ll literally kill him,” Leo said cheerily.

“Language, Blue,” Dad reprimanded, sitting down in the nest across from Donnie. He stayed politely out of arm’s reach, as if he were scared to be there. Donnie didn’t know how to feel about that. “I am making an effort to be in the lives of all of my sons. And that includes you, Purple.”

Donnie looked away, curling into himself. “You don’t—”

“Hush,” Dad reached over and put a hand on his knee, face twisting in heartbreak when Donnie flinched. “I am doing this because I want to. We will discuss this all with time. I want to hear how you feel, now.”

“What do I even say?” Donnie replied, timid. “I– I assumed it all would speak for itself.”

Mikey exchanged a look with Raph that he couldn’t interpret. Then his little brother implored, “can you tell us about everything with Gram Gram? And S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N?”

Donnie turned to stone, his mind haunted by brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. Leo noticed him start to shake and let out a little soothing churr, snuggling in closer. Probably watching him from where he had his head draped over his shoulder. Donnie stared at the far wall and swallowed heavily.

“It’s so much,” Donnie admitted. “I failed them.”

“Last time I checked, you’re not the bastard that killed them,” Raph said, stern but not mean. “None of us blame you for any of it.”

Donnie leaned forward, breathing hard. “She called my tech brilliant,” he said, voice cracking on the word that’d kept him awake for days straight. “Brilliant. Hours before it failed to protect her. It’s my job— I prepare ahead. And I failed. She— maybe I didn’t kill her but—”

“You didn’t,” Leo said, soft. “You didn’t kill either of them. You couldn’t have known.”

Well, if he was being honest already. “You told me it was your fault for sending her there,” he whispered. “You blamed yourself for trusting me. I failed you just as much. I put that on you, when it was my fault.”

Leo froze in horror. “God, Donnie, that’s not what I meant.”

Donnie wheezed, trying very, very hard not to cry. He had no pain to excuse it anymore. It’d just be embarrassing. “How else could I have taken it?” he asked, choked up.

Mikey nuzzled the other side of his neck from where he was hugging his side. Subconsciously, Donnie raised an arm to pull him closer. He took the opportunity, letting the silence stretch on tensely.

“You’re right,” Leo said. “That’s the problem with blame games. I think we’re all kind of collectively deciding to stop doing it now.”

“I think that is a slippery slope, considering you can be in the wrong and not acknowledging it could be more unhealthy than doing so,” Donnie countered.

“Not what I meant either,” Leo replied. Starting one of their verbal little games of chess, a trademark of theirs that the family had always joked about. “Okay, so you are wrong. Let’s say you are responsible for their deaths. In this hypothetical situation.”

“Which I am.”

“Uh-huh, sure, if you were,” Leo continued. “What would you do about it?”

Donnie blinked, confused. “I’d fix it,” he said, insisted. “That’s what I do.”

Leo headbutted him, light and affectionate, with the confidence of someone who had already thought twenty steps ahead. A player who knew their strategy. “Okay,” he said. “How?”

“I’d—” Donnie had to take a moment to breathe. “I’d prevent it from happening again. I’d prepare correctly next time. Next time something like that happens, I’ll be efficient. I won’t lose anyone else.”

“Personally,” Leo drawled. “I’d say the only way to fix someone dying is to like, bring them back to life. Which isn’t possible, I think. Please don’t try. You can’t really do anything but heal, right? You can only fix yourself.”

“But—”

“What are you trying to do?” Leo asked, suddenly sharp. “Because it looks, from where I am, that you’re only punishing yourself for something.” He reached out to squeeze Donnie’s forearm for emphasis. Pointing out the scars there.

“What if I deserve it?” Donnie’s voice cracked again as the floodgates threatened to spill. “What if I’m punishing myself– because I– I deserve it?”

“What are you, a republican?” Leo shot back.

Mikey snorted wetly into Donnie’s neck. Donnie hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. He squeezed his brother a little tighter to his side, looking at Raph in his peripheral. He was watching the situation intently, knowing not to interfere.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Donnie asked.

“You’re the one who always rambled about advocating for reparative justice, bro,” Leo said, sounding unconcerned. Deep down Donnie could tell he was masking his own hurt. “I’m just a guy that listens to you talk about communism a lot. Why’s it stop when it applies to you? You didn’t even do the thing you’re mad at yourself for.”

 Appealing to his political morals. An evil play.

(Leo had always been better at chess than him.)

“It’s deeper than that,” Donnie choked. His hands started shaking. Breathing felt hard as the world closed in around him. “This is only emblematic of a larger issue of mine, there’s a reason— it’s the only way I learn, because I– I– I have to you, you don’t understand—”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Leo replied. “Explain it to me.”

“I failed all of you,” Donnie wheezed, working himself up. “From the start. I’m not like you, I… it’s in me. I don’t deserve– deserve any of this, because I’m nothing but– but a nuisance without my tech, I’m— I— there’s no reason to love me, I’ve been broken, I haven’t earned–”

“Earned what?” Leo pressed.

“I haven’t earned being alive!”

It echoed, bouncing across the walls as the room fell silent. Raph and Dad were staring at him. Mikey was shaking as he squeezed him tight, breathing hard. They all looked terrified, and Donnie couldn’t take that back.

“Is that so?” Leo asked, sounding vindicated.

Checkmate.

Donnie was crying, he realized. He felt utterly ashamed of himself. He hung his head and breathed hard, no longer wanting to see the pained looks on his family’s faces. He felt so, so pathetic. This is why he’d kept it for so long.

“Donnie,” Raph breathed. 

“I’m sorry,” Donnie sobbed.

“For being alive?” Leo asked. “Because you don’t have to apologize for that. Why would we be mad at you for that?”

Donnie tried very, very hard not to look up at Dad. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists, utterly ashamed of himself. Everyone seemed to notice it anyway. Dad made a choked noise in the back of his throat.

“We love you,” Mikey piped up. “You– you know that! You know we love you!”

Donnie didn’t say anything. He sniffled pathetically. 

“Dad?” Leo asked knowingly.

Donnie looked up, expecting Dad to have done something concerning or surprising, but he hadn’t seemed to have changed at all. His face was the same kind of pained it was before. Donnie watched him carefully through wet lashes.

“Purple,” Dad said, “Donatello. Oh, my son, I wish I could take this burden from you.”

“It’s okay,” Donnie tried to dismiss.

“Is it?” Dad asked, shutting him down. Donnie didn’t have a response to that and he knew it. “I’ve had much time to think about this, and the way that I have treated you. You have been punishing yourself over and over for my failure. You have given us more than enough.”

Donnie shrunk back, shaking his head. “No, I—”

“It is a very wonder to be alive,” Dad continued. “To be my son. And that is more than enough to earn my love, just being here with me. You have proven time and time again that you are strong and wonderful, and I have reaped the rewards of that without telling you for much too long.”

“But—”

"Donatello," Dad cut him off, in a soft, broken voice. "I am very, very sorry for how I have treated you. I never intended to push you to this point, or to push you at all. You have done so much for this family and expected so little of us."

Donnie sniffed and wiped at his eyes with a little, grieving, shivering chirp. Mikey's arms tightened around him, like he was daring him to try and run from their love again. Leo buried his face into his nape, his own shoulders shuddering.

"I am so proud of you, my son," Dad whispered, cupping his cheek in one small hand so they'd meet eyes. "You are unendingly brilliant and tenacious, and you have given everything to keep this family safe. I am sorry we made you feel like you could not seek the same protection."

Donnie hiccuped. His body shuddered with one great, heaving sob that shook everyone in the pile. Dad brushed away his tears with a thumb, a gentle, kind gesture that shouldn't have meant much, but it was finally the thing that destroyed him.

He wailed . A long, cathartic cry as the floodgates finally broke. He pitched into his father's arms, jostling his brothers, and howled in misery and grief. For everything, for his son, the childhood he'd lost, Gram Gram, the old lair, the years he'd spent fighting for kindness he could've simply asked for. Dad wrapped his arms around him and held him tight, shushing him softly.

"I know, I know," he soothed. "My boy, my prince, my baby Purple, my violet star. I am here, we have you. Shh, I know, I know, shh... shh..."

Donnie only cried harder, incoherent wailing as he wrapped his arms around his father's back and screamed his sobs into his chest. Dad stroked the back of his head, calm and serene, even as Donnie rapidly unraveled and came undone.

"It hurts so much, I know it hurts. It will hurt for a long time, but it is fixable. You have been so strong, you can finally rest... we will fix it this time. Rest, rest. It's okay. It's okay. Shh... I am so proud of you, you have done so well, shh, shh..."

“Can I hold that for you?” Mikey asked.

Donnie blinked from where he was sitting on the floor. “What, the washers?” he asked, and when Mikey nodded, “sure.”

“Cool,” Mikey said, grabbing the bag and holding it to its chest like it was precious cargo. “Whatcha doing?”

“Finally getting to work on the dryer,” Donnie sighed. “It is pretty much the last thing I have to do before this nightmare of a project is finally over. Then the new lair will be a hundred percent complete. It only took several months…”

It was mostly because he’d been sleeping and eating like a normal person for the majority of the project. But that was against his narrative, so he neglected to mention it. Mikey nodded intently anyway, listening close.

“Then I think I’ll finally do something personal,” Donnie said. “I have some ideas for some upgrades to my computers.”

“That’s good!” Mikey chirped, utterly earnest. “You deserve it. I just, umm…” he paused, visibly thinking something over.

Donnie quirked a brow at him. “Whatever you’re refusing to say will likely not kill me, Angelo.”

“Likely?” Mikey asked.

“Never say never,” Donnie shrugged. “What is it?”

Mikey sat down and scooted forward, watching his work closer. “I guess I just wanted to thank you, that’s all.”

“For what?” Donnie asked. “Is this a ploy to get something from me?”

“No, I just wanted to,” Mikey giggled. “To thank you. For like, everything. All of this.”

Donnie looked away to hide the flattered blush on his face, wishing he’d kept the bag so he had something to fiddle with. “Why?”

Mikey leaned over to lay his head on Donnie’s shoulder, relaxed and content. “I guess I just wanted to say it more, that’s all.”

Donnie paused and let the words sink in. He shifted and then rested his head on Mikey’s, squishing his cheek against his head. “Yeah?” he asked, endeared.

“Yeah,” Mikey replied, refusing to back down. Sounding like he meant it.

And this time, Donnie was more than willing to believe him.