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It had been five days since Donatello had last slept. No one could really blame him. Everytime he closed his eyes, he could see his brother disappearing into a prison dimension, his soft shell being battered and exposed (and after the whole shredder thing, this was not something he really liked to happen.), being ripped out from the grasp of tentacles, being controlled, exposed, touched by the tentacles-
He felt sick thinking about it.
His brother attacking them, he was... Krangified, as Mikey had dubbed it later on. And before that, Raph was stuck in a pod. He looked dead. They almost died by getting crushed in his own creation, he'd never felt so useless-
Their world was almost destroyed, Leo almost died, the injuries he'd sustained were enough to fill Donatello with an extreme amount of guilt, he should have been up there, he shouldn't have been on the ground watching...Mikey opening that portal, his body crackling. He couldn't even speak afterwards, he'd breathed in too much dust from the aftermath-his hands had terrible tremors, he couldn't talk, or draw-It was Donnie's fault, he should have done something, anything-his tech was destroyed but he was Donatello, the 'smart' one-and he couldn't even help him. He couldn't fix anything because he was just useless and stupid and terrible, he couldn't help any of them he was stupid, stupid, stupid-
Donnie scoffed the lump in his throat away, rubbing his eyes. His brain was feeling so fluffy, clouded. Yet, those memories always burned bright in his mind. He wished they would go away. Maybe if he stayed awake longer, then they would become as fuzzy as the rest of his mind.
That would be nice.
He glances at his mug on the desk. He was currently in his lab, 'working' on a way to fix Mikey's hands. Except he wasn't. Because he couldn't think straight. Because the guilt and the memories flooded any cognitive ideas from existing in his brain.
Maybe, he needed more caffeine. That would help. Probably.
He grabs his mug, standing up. As soon as he does, he contracts a head rush-he wavers and crashes into his desk.
"Shit-" he mutters. He'd slammed his side onto the desk. And that had hurt like a bitch.
He grumbles, pinching the skin of his nose bridge. He stands up, snatching his mug from the floor and walking forward.
He was in is lab.
Then he was walking through the living room.
He looks around him-except everything is moving so slowly.
He sees a flash of orange standing beside him, holding a purple tablet in his hands. Mikey is next to him, smiling and trying to show Donnie something.
Donnie looks. He's trying to focus on the words the orange turtle had typed out, but he can't. The words are swimming before him.
"I.. Um, that's, nice Michael-" he stutters out. He walks faster. He doesn't know why, but he's in a hurry. He gets to the kitchen and practically slams his mug on the counter-except there was no mug-just a handle, connected to a shard of where the mug once was.
He must have... Broken it.
So why was he pouring coffee onto it?
The dark brown liquid was just... Seeping over the handle, pouring out onto the counter...
Over his hand..
Except it wouldn't register that there was hot liquid on his hands, all over the counter...
Mikey is by his side again, trying to show him something-he tries to grab the coffee pot from Donnie's hand.
Donnie doesn't like that.
He yanks the pot back from Mikey-except the force of his pull knocks his body into counter. His shell slams against it. It hurts-ir it should. He wasn't wearing his battle shell, so it should hurt.
Mikey is hovering. He looks concerned.
Donnie can't focus.
"Its-is... Is okay... Mi.. Mik.. "
The world is swimming around him. His knees buckle, his eyes slam shut, and he is on the ground.
He blacks out.
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Mikey has no idea what to do.
Donnie had just passed out-he was acting weird, really weird-then he hurt his shell, was he okay? Was he hurt badly-
Mikey had caught him in his arms, but-he wasn't responding. Donnie wasn't responding.
Mikey opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Just a flash of pain and a cough.
He winces, then moves to grab his tablet-except that was on the ground, shattered. He must've dropped it in his shock.
It wasn't working.
His breath catches in his throat. He looks at Donnie, he looks out of the kitchen. He needs help. Donnie needs help-Mikey needs to leave and get hrlp-but.. But what if that makes it worse, what if something horrible happens to Donnie when he's gone, what if Donnie-what if he's so hurt that... That...
Mikey snaps his jaws open, trying to let out a cry. A yell, anything would work, anything-
Nothing happens. His throat stings terribly.
He keeps trying, nothing is working-
Hot tears stream down his face. He presses his face against Donnie's limp shoulder, sobbing into it.
he needs to help him, he needs to get help-he needs to do something, but hell, he's so useless-this was all his fault, he made Donnie get hurt, made this happen-he can't speak, scream-anything, he can't do any stupid thing-
He chokes out another sob, pulling away from Donnie's shoulder. He grabs Donnie by both his shoulders and shakes him around.
Nothing.
He raises his fists and bang them against Donnie's plastron, making harsh rasping noises in his attempt to scream. He can feel his breaths coming out faster than they should be, he squeezes his eyes shut. He knows this feeling.
Panic attack.
He'd had one not too long ago, when he realized he couldn't draw, or speak-he couldn't help his brothers to feel better-
And he still couldn't. Donnie wasn't responding to anything. Mikey couldn't even cry for help.
He was so useless.
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Donnie could feel the edges of his consciousness coming back to him. He registered that his shell hurt, as did his hand-god, what'd he do to get that-
He opens his eyes slowly, groaning.
He realizes that someone is crying on him.
Mikey.
shit.
It was coming back to him.
how could he be so stupid?!
Donnie pushes himself up quickly, causing his little brother to jump away in shock.
He gains another head rush, but since he's already on the ground, he doesn't fall over this time.
He swallows the cotton feeling down his throat, opening his eyes again.
Mikey is staring at him. His eyes are swimming with tears, he's breathing heavily, shaking badly.
"Hey, hey-Mike-"
His brother makes a pained squeak.
"Mikey, Mikey, c'mere-"
Mikey practically throws himself onto Donnie, wrapping his arms tightly around him.
Donnie smiles sadly, reciprocating the hug.
They stay that way for awhile.