Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time it happened, there really wasn’t anyone to blame. Four knee-high turtles stumbling around were chaos-bound, no matter how early their father tried to send them to bed. They were in Raph’s room, brightly colored bandanas wrapped tightly around their little heads. Raph was standing on top of his bed with a huge toothy grin.

“Are you ready, boys?!” he yelled, spreading his arms wide.

Mikey was hanging on the bookshelf, his short legs dangling dangerously. Leo was crouched on a chair, and Donnie was balancing on a pillow in the center of the room. 

They all smiled back and began to chant, “Three, two, one, THE FLOOR IS LAVA!” Their screams echoed around the room, and they began to bounce from one piece of furniture to the next.

“Look out, Mikey!” Leo shrieked as he jumped and desperately tried to hang onto the shelf. The younger box-shell laughed hysterically as the shelf began to wobble, clearly not designed to handle the weight of the two turtles.

“Saaaave meeeee!” Mikey held out his hand, and pulled the rest of his body into his shell.  Leo reached out, wrapping three chubby fingers around Mikey’s hand, right before his shell tipped off the bookcase. He began to swing his littlest brother back and forth, building momentum.

“Raph! Heads up!” With a final swing, Leo tossed Mikey across the room, toward the (relatively) large snapper.

Raph jumped up and closed his arms around Mikey’s shell with a triumphant “Gotcha!” As he landed, his left foot slipped out from underneath him, and he stumbled off the side of the bed.

All of this would have been fine, if not for two simple facts. The first is that that with Mikey in his arms, he instinctively fell backwards, trusting his own shell to take the fall.

The second is that Donnie was crawling underneath them both, building a bridge of pillows across the concrete floor.

There was absolute silence as the two shells collided. Donnie was splayed on the floor facedown, Raph was on top of him, still holding Mikey in his arms. From the shelf, Leo would swear that he heard a soft hiss as the spikes and jagged edges of Raph’s shell pierced Donnie. The soft-shelled turtle let out a shattered gasp, and his eyes snapped open.

In the same breath, Raph tried to stand up. And Donnie screamed.

In the panic of it all, Raph dropped once more onto Donnie’s shell, and the scream got ever louder.

“STOP!” he screeched, clawing at the ground underneath him. “PLEASE STOP. I-” His cry for help was cut off as their father burst through the door, clearly alarmed by the scene before him. Splinter grabbed a stunned Raph by the sides and lifted him directly up, gasping as he saw what lay underneath his largest son. He set Raph on the bed, mindful that he was still holding Mikey.

“Purple,” he whispered, setting a gentle clawed hand on top of the quivering shell. Donnie screamed at the contact, and Splinter quickly drew the hand back. He reached underneath his son, scooping him into his arms without putting any contact on the wounds.

“Blue!” Splinter turned his attention to the shocked boy, still on the shelf. He raised his voice to be heard over the sound of Donnie’s wails. “Get your brothers and follow me!” He raced out of the room, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Red had begun to cry. He hurried to the table in their barely stocked kitchen, and laid the crying child on top of it. He grabbed a kitchen towel, and began wiping away the pools of blood on Donnie’s shell. The towel quickly soaked through, and the blood showed no signs of slowing. “Blue!” Splinter yelled once more, panic rising in his voice. “Red!”

Leo and Raph appeared in the doorway, tears sliding down Leo’s cheeks, and choking sobs stuttering out of Raph.

“I’m so sorry,” Raph wailed, his hands clenching around the fabric of his shirt. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Not now!” Splinter snapped, internally knowing that he would need to apologize later. “I need help. Blue, go to bathroom and gather all the towels we have. Red, bring me the first aid kit by my chair, and then get me a bowl of warm water.” The two turtles hesitated for a moment; eyes locked on their crying brother. “Move!” Splinter bellowed, satisfied when they turned and ran. His turned back to Purple, whose wails had quieted into hiccups.  He placed a hand on the young one’s forehead.

“Purple, can you hear me?” He received nothing but sniffles in response at first.  He continued to stroke his head, silently wishing his sons would hurry.

“It hurts,” He heard a weak voice choke out. Donnie had his head tilted away from his father, but Splinter could tell by the way his skin quivered that his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. “Dad, it hurts so much.” Splinter opened his mouth, but was cut off by the entry of Leo and Raph, followed closely by Mikey. He gathered the materials, thanking his sons quietly. He shooed them out, promising them that they could come back in soon.

Towels in hand, he cleaned up Purple’s shell, taking note of the most serious injuries. Three gashes, from the sharpest points of Red’s shell, laid an equal distance apart. They were just above the halfway point of his shell, an inch long, and looked to be a half inch deep. They would need stitches, surely.

“You will be okay, Purple,” he murmured, opening the first aid kit to bring out some disinfecting wipes and the suture supplies. He wiped the first cut, whispering apologies as his child hissed at the sting. He had nothing to help with pain, and the stitches needed would be extraordinarily painful. Splinter heard a whimper at the door, and turned to see that his other three sons had gathered at the doorway once more. He tilted his head, beckoning them inside.

“Purple, listen to me.”

Donnie turned his head to face his father, and Splinter felt his heart break at the sight of his wobbling lip. “Dad?”

“Hold on to your brothers’ hands,” he instructed sternly, and immediately the other three crowded near. Raph grabbed Donnie’s left hand, whispering apologies over and over. Leo grabbed Donnie’s right, locking eyes with his self-proclaimed twin and gently resting his head on Donnie’s. Mikey, as small as he was, pushed himself under Raph’s arm to hold on as well.  

Splinter started on the first cut, the needle piercing the soft shell, and Donnie simply sobbed. Mikey started to cry in response, but not one of the brothers let go. Every time the needle entered, Splinter could feel Donnie tense, and he could feel the other three squeeze back in response. It took five stiches to close the first wound, and Splinter immediately moved on to the next, wanting it to be over as soon as possible for his purple son. The only sound in the room was Donnie’s wet gasps and whines, and the hushed reassurances of his family.

Fifteen stitches later, Splinter was finished. He dropped the last bloody towel onto the floor, and started to wrap Purple’s shell with bandages.

“It is finished, my son. Let us rest now.” He lifted Donnie’s body to wrap the bandage under and around him. Better too much protection than too little. He took note of how none of his other sons moved at the disturbance. “Let go, boys.”

Donnie’s hands were clasped so tightly around his brothers’ that his knuckles were white, starkly contrasting his dark green hands.

“Let go,” Splinter repeated again, putting more of an edge into his words. “You can join him in bed, but I must move him.”

Mikey let go first, immediately moving from his brother to hold on to the edge of his father’s robe. Leo followed, furiously wiping away tears.

Raph stayed, snatching up the hand that Leo left behind.

“It’s okay, Raph,” Donnie whispered, and Splinter was somehow proud that his son still had the energy to speak. He was so much stronger than he appeared. “I’m okay, and I’m not mad. It was an accident.”

Raph said nothing, shaking his head and holding on to Donnie’s hands tighter.

Splinter moved to pack up the first aid kit, but a flash of red on Raph’s shell made him draw a shaky breath and pick up another wipe. He moved behind Red, and gently started to wipe the blood-tipped spikes on his oldest son, silently grateful that Red’s attention was on Purple.

“Purple will be okay, Red, he murmured. “We will all be okay.”

Chapter Text

The second time it happened, it was very very clear to Donatello who was at fault.

It was closing in on two in the morning, the full moon illuminating the almost silent docks. The waves of the Hudson splashing up onto the wooden piers was the only sound for miles. Leo and Donnie walked along the rickety walkway, scanning for any signs of a disturbance. It was rare for the twins to be on patrol without the other two. Raph had argued against splitting up the team, and Donnie was inclined to agree after the entire Shredder “situation”. But there were reports of attacks all throughout the city, and there simply wasn’t another solution.

Mikey and Raph had headed into the heart of Times Square, where (according to rumors) Meat Sweats was trying to eat tourists.

“I’m just saying,” Leo drawled as he kicked a pebble off the side of the dock. “I don’t understand why he would go after tourists. New Yorkers would taste just fine, really.”

“Are you suggesting he focuses his terrorism on the locals?”

“No! I’m just saying that if you’re going to eat anyone, why outsource at all? There are plenty of good people here.”

Donnie pushed his goggles up, blinking as his eyes adjusted. “It sounds like you want him to eat New Yorkers.”

“No!”

“Do you want to eat New Yorkers?” Donnie lifted an eyebrow, glaring at his twin.

“I would eat New Yorkers before I ate anyone from New Jersey, and that is a promise.” Leo skipped out ahead of him, walking backward so he was facing Donnie. “New game. Which state has the worst tasting people?”

“Leo-”

“Smart money is on North Carolina, and I have a reason.”

“Leo!” Donnie kicked gravel up and towards the slider. “Focus.”

Leo rolled his eyes, turning back around and resuming his game of kicking rocks in the river. “Donald, in case you haven’t noticed,” he spun around in a circle, his arms out wide. “There’s no one here.”

Donnie opened up the menu on his wrist-pad, bringing up the files he collected on suspicious activity in the city. “For the past three nights, there have been disturbances at the docks. Shipping containers going missing, strange sounds, disappearing employees,-”

“Destroyed walkways?” Leo interjected, slowly coming to a stop. Donnie walked up beside him, surveying the damage.  The wooden dock they were walking on had a large jagged hole, right in the center.

“Approximately seventy-five centimeters in diameter – and look at the-”

Leo smacked him on the shoulder. “I don’t speak metric, I’m from New York.”

“Approximately two and a half feet,” Donnie paused. “In diameter. Look at the way the wood shattered.” He gestured at the splinters of wood, all pointed up. “Something punched through this from the water, then went right back where it came from.”

Leo was silent for a moment, leaning his elbow on Donnie’s battle shell. “Hold on a minute, did you say missing employees?”

Donnie nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but never getting the chance. The wood directly underneath them exploded, knocking the two turtles apart. Leo crashed to the side, and Donnie careened into the water.

A tentacle, jet-black with silver streaks, towered above the docks. Immediately, Donnie grabbed on to the edge of the pier, pulling himself up and out of the water, while drawing his Tech-Bō in the same breath.

“This doesn’t look like Draxum!” Leo yelled, already back on his feet, unsheathing his twin ōdachi blades.

“Really?” Donnie yelled back, and the tentacle came crashing down, blowing the pier to smithereens. Leo immediately summoned a portal underneath him, and Donnie instantly understood the game plan. His battleshell hummed as it rocketed him into the air, giving him an aerial view of what exactly it was that they were dealing with. He held out his left hand, smiling as he heard Leo’s portal open above him. Leo was already reaching out, and immediately grabbed hold of the outstretched hand.  His battleshell was strong enough to hold them both, and they soared upwards as the tentacle crashed through the dock again.

“What are we dealing with, Don-Tron?” Leo yelled above the wind, instinctively drawing his feet up as the tentacle thrashed beneath him.

Donnie pulled his goggles back over his face, letting out a low-whistle at what he saw. “The mystic readings are through the figurative roof, Nardo.”

“Not a mutant?”

“Some sort of squid yokai, then.” Donnie adjusted his grip on Leo’s wrist, frowning as a second tentacle slammed through, just north of the first.

“Divide and conquer?”

“I rather not, squid definitely have more than two arms.”

“Fair enough,” Leo laughed, “Let’s start with the first!”

And with that, Donnie let go, letting Leo plunge toward the beast, cackling with laughter. He followed closely behind, transforming the head of his Tech-Bō into a spear. It plunged into the tip of the tentacle with a satisfying hiss. Donnie planted his feet on the creature, pulling the spear down toward the shattered docks. The creature in the water shrieked as it was sliced open, sending a shiver up Donnie’s shell. He quickly reached the bottom, having sliced the first tentacle from top to bottom. Leo threw his ōdachi at the middle point, directly where Donnie had sliced it. The ōdachi easily cleaved through, and the creature howled once more. The destroyed tentacle quickly retreated, while the severed top crashed into the water. The second tentacle shortly followed. The twins stood on the shaky wooden pier, listening for movement.

“It’s retreating,” Donnie whispered.

“Good!” Leo whispered back.

Sure enough, the mass underneath them seemed to be headed toward open water. The broken floor underneath them groaned as the beast swam slowly away.

“Simple enough,” Leo sighed. “Almost disappointing.” He glanced back toward the mainland, sighing when he saw that the walkway needed to get home was completely destroyed. At least 20 feet of the dock was completely gone, and the dark waters of the Hudson lapped softly underneath. He held out his hand to Donnie. “Give us a boost? I do not feel like swimming, and this mission is not worth another portal.”

Donnie sighed dramatically, but reached out to pick up his brother.

He never did get the chance.

The creature, in its escape, snapped once last tentacle out of the water. It exploded through the wood once more, and Donnie simply didn’t have enough time to react. He turned around at the noise, and the tentacle hit him squarely in the plastron. It sent him rocketing back, to the point where he almost cleared the gap he was about to fly over.

Almost. He slammed into the jagged edge of the dock, shell first. His head snapped back, and a shattered gasp filled his ears. He hung there, his battleshell impaled on the wood and metal supports of the dock. Faintly, he heard his brother scream his name. He registered the feeling of blood dripping down his shell and legs. The blood was moving quick, much quicker than he would have liked. The battleshell was compromised, he was compromised. He tried to take a breath, which quickly stuttered out. He needed to move, he needed to run, he was stuck, he was -

The hum of a portal snapped him out of his thoughts, and Leo appeared on the dock above him.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, looking down and seeing blood-stained Hudson below. He dropped to his knees, reaching out a hand, but not exactly knowing where to place it. “Holy shit, Donnie, what do I do?”

Donnie had to crane his neck upwards to look at Leo. He tried to speak, but all that came out was another shattered gasp.

“We need to get you out,” Leo breathed, answering his own question. “We need to get you out of your shell, Donnie, how do we get you out of your shell?”

Donnie’s left arm came up weakly to gesture to the strap on his right shoulder. He was grateful that Leo didn’t need any more guidance than that. Leo reached down, grabbed the strap, and pulled. There was a quiet hiss as the battleshell detached.

The pain that followed was – indescribable. Donnie clenched his eyes shut as a scream ripped its way out of his throat.

“Donnie?” whispered Leo, barely heard above the shouts of pain. He was expecting Donnie to drop into the water. His mind almost didn’t comprehend the fact that Donnie was still hanging there, still impaled. The audible sound of the blood dripping into the river is what snapped him out of it. Leo grabbed Donnie’s head, tilting it forward so he could look behind his brother, see what was connecting him still. “Donnie!” he yelled, as he finally saw. “Oh my god just – hold on!” Three metal support beams had penetrated both of Donnie’s shells. Without the battleshell attached, the full force of Donnie’s body weight was on these three poles, dragging him down, and ripping open the soft shell slowly.

Leo slammed one of his ōdachi into the edge of the dock, and lowered himself next to his brother. He wrapped his one free arm around Donnie’s waist, trying not to panic at the warm blood raced over his arm. He kicked his legs up until they made contact with the dock, and pushed out outwards, letting go of the sword he was holding onto.

Leo had just enough time to gasp, “deep breath!” as they both fell into the Hudson.

The cold water was a shock, silencing Donnie’s screams and Leo’s thoughts. The water around them was quickly dyed red, and Leo knew he was running out of time. They sank down too quickly, and with Donnie’s dead weight, there would be no swimming up. Leo tilted down, still holding onto Donnie. With his remaining ōdachi he sliced open a portal below them.

And with a last burst of energy, Leo kicked his legs, and pushed them both through.

They crashed into the lair, along with a tidal wave of water. The teleported wave slammed into their living room, absolutely destroying Splinter’s chair and their projector before dispersing on the floor.

But Leo didn’t even notice.

His focus was on his twin in his arms. His silent, cold, deathly pale twin.

“Donnie, c’mon!” Leo yelled, ignoring the way his voice cracked. He shook him gently. “We’re home, please wake up!” Distantly, he heard the shouts of Mikey and Raph on the other side of the lair.

“We need some help!” he screamed in the direction of the noise, shaking Donnie once more. Nothing. He flipped Donnie so his plastron was resting on his legs, and immediately, Donnie started to cough.

“Oh thank god, Donnie!”

The soft-shell hacked up water, desperately trying to take a breath. “Leo?”

“You’re going to be alright, just – just stay still.” Leo ran a hand over Donnie’s shell. For lack of a better phrase, it was simply torn apart. But he would be alright. The wounds weren’t too deep. He would need a horrible number of stitches, and might even need a transfusion. But Mikey and Raph would get here soon, and he would be alright. He grabbed a blanket that was in arms distance and pressed it onto Donnie’s shell, hoping to stop the oozing blood.

Leo let out a sob that he didn’t realize he was holding. This had all happened so fast and Donnie almost –

Tears started to flow, landing on top of the blanket. Donnie almost –

 Donnie’s hand reached around to his own shell, grabbing hold of Leo’s arm and squeezing gently.

“You’re going to be alright, you big dork,” Leo whispered as Mikey and Raph burst into the room. “Just hold on.”

Chapter Text

The third time it happened, Donnie couldn’t blame anyone but himself. Everything that led up to that moment had been his call, his decision. And when he looked back at that day, he didn’t regret a single thing.

His steps were louder than he wanted them to be as tore through the Krang’s ship, desperately hoping for a control panel of some kind. He had a job to do. Get control of the Krang ship, send it back where it came from. That’s all he needed to focus on. Stealth wasn’t the highest priority at the moment. All he needed to do was focus.

That alone was proving difficult, as a distant part of his mind, a part that he was trying very pointedly to ignore, was consumed with worry. Leo going on his own to find Raph could be disastrous. There was no guarantee that his oldest brother was even alive at this point. He couldn’t be sure that Leo was either. He shook his head frantically, trying to clear his mind of those thoughts.

Then again, Donnie thought as his vision cleared and he looked down at the Krang “computer”. This plan wasn’t shaping up to be much better.

“Oh god,” Donnie whispered, trying not to immediately gag. “I know what I have to do.”

He turned away for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He could hear Mikey gagging in the background, as the youngest turtle figured out what was about to happen. Donnie turned back, steeling himself for what was going to happen. He heard Mikey sprouting encouragement in the background, but he wasn’t paying much attention. He knew what he had to do. He took a deep breath, and plunged his hands into the Krang control panel.

Burning, searing, heat was the first thing Donnie felt. Tendrils of pink and violet crawled up his arms, poking and prodding, trying to find an entrance, and burning a pathway up his skin. He grit his teeth, plunging his arms deeper and closing his eyes.

The outline of the Technodrone appeared behind his eyelids, hazy and flickering. He could feel the walls of the ship, the floors, the engines, the weapons, every living being that resided upon it. But that was all he could do. He could feel them, but he couldn’t control anything.

He opened his eyes, standing up straighter.

“It's not working!” Donnie yelled in frustration. “I need more of a connection.” He turned to face Mikey who was standing guard. “Mikey, take off my battleshell.”

“No,” Mikey immediately responded. “You're too vulnerable with just your soft shell.”

Ignoring the sting that those words brought, Donnie shook his head once more. “There's no time! Hurry!”

He felt his younger brother move behind him, gently unclasping his battleshell. As if the Krang ship understood, the tendrils immediately moved off of his arms, allowing Donatello to turn around. He saw Mikey glance at the burns on his hands, and scrunch his face up in fear. He closed his eyes before Mikey could say anything, as they both knew this needed to happen. For Earth, for their home, for Raph.

What happened next was a bit of a blur.

The tendrils came up from the console once more, this time quickly latching onto his soft shell. Donnie took deep breath at the now familiar burn, refusing to let pain or disgust get the better of him.

Once attached, the tendrils on his shell hesitated for the briefest of moments, as both parties got used to the other. Donnie opened his eyes, trying to smile at a clearly distressed Mikey. He opened his mouth to joke about how he had been meaning to get a back massage for a while, but stopped short as the tendrils drew back ever so slightly, and stabbed directly into Donatello.

His mind was bombarded with information, sensations, data, pain, - and he was briefly knocked out as the tendrils dragged his entire body into the control panel. There was silence for a moment, until Mikey quietly spoke up.

“Donnie?” he whispered, still holding on to the battleshell. “Donnie?”

Inside the panel, Donnie woke up. His mouth was open in a silent scream, and he hopelessly thrashed against the Krangs hold. The tendrils drove deeper into his shell, driving tears from his eyes that were unable to fall.

He felt everything.

He felt the roar of the Technodrone’s engines, responding to his own breath. He looked through the eyes of every Krang on the ship, who immediately sensed that something wasn’t right. He felt the footsteps of Raph and Leo, dancing around each other in a very close battle. He felt –

He felt Mikey’s heartrate pick up, panicking as a Krang barreled towards them both. The only thought he had was to Protect Mikey, and the ship did exactly that. Tentacles slammed the Krang out of the way, quickly interlocking over the alien, preventing its escape.

The image of the Technodrone was now clear in his mind, and he immediately began driving back towards the portal. He had just enough thought to tell Mikey that he “was a spaceship!” before he was back to the task at hand, pouring everything he had into the engines.

It was working.

For a moment, anyway.

He heard Mikey give a startled shout as the Krang leader punched a hole through the wall and took him away. Donnie tried to gather resources to put up some sort of defense for himself, but it was no use.

He felt the Krang leader break into the control panel.

He felt the tendrils pulled out of his shell, leaving nothing but sizzling flesh and oozing wounds in their wake.

He felt his mind literally ripped from the ship, and everything went black once more.

Donnie remembered the rest of the night in pieces only.

He remembered –

Raph screaming as he desperately tried to rip the Krang off of his flesh.

The hum of his Ninpo through his broken body, giving him the energy to launch an attack on the Krang leader.

Pulling up a shield, trying to prevent the Krang from shredding Mikey.

Falling through the air.

He remembered –

He remembered staring at the sky and crying, looking for a sign that his stupid twin was still alive.

Holding on to Mikey as he did the impossible, and brought Leo back from hell itself.

April supporting him as they crawled back to their lair, or what was left of it.

When they arrived home, all Donnie wanted to do was find a portion of his home that wasn’t completely destroyed, curl up, and sleep for the next three days.

But that simply wasn’t possible. His brothers were injured, much more than he was. The wounds on his back had stopped bleeding, and weren’t stopping from him from working. So he wouldn’t stop either. The first thing he did was attach a backup battleshell. There wasn’t time to focus on him. He needed Splinter, April, and Casey to focus on his brothers, and they wouldn’t be able to do that if he worried them in any way. He threw all of himself into their care.

For two straight nights, Donnie did nothing but float from bedside to bedside. He designed an x-ray machine, he stole books on turtle anatomy, he did hours and hours of research to be the best medic he could be. He slept in fifteen-minute increments, often in a chair, often while the other three were sleeping as well.

And the battleshell didn’t come off.

And it was fine.

He could do this for them.

Leo and Raph’s injuries were – extensive to say the least. On top of it all, Leo was the worst kind of patient, constantly asking questions and trying to move when he was told very clearly to sit down and shut up. At least Raph could listen.

“For the last time, you’re both on bedrest. And believe it or not,” he glared at Leo, who didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. “Bedrest does not include making cereal.”

“It’s all we have in the house,” Raph whispered, holding an icepack up to his eye. It was a constant task, keeping enough ice on hand in the house. Donnie wasn’t sure if his eye was actually burning still, or if it was more of a comforting thing at this point. It didn’t really matter.

“What are you-?” Donnie sputtered. “I’m not upset about the cereal, I’m upset that you got up at all! If you want cereal, I will make it!”

“I don’t want to bother-” Raph started.

“I don’t want to hear it!” Donnie snapped, flinching at the downcast look that took over Raph’s face. Leo frowned, tilted his head in a silent accusation.

Donnie sighed. He placed a hand on the snapper’s arm. “Focus on getting better. Let me take care of everything else, you big lug.”

Raph immediately brightened, and pulled Donnie into a hug.

 Donnie, who would normally hiss and complain if handled like that, went deathly silent as waves of pain crashed through his shell.

“You alright, Donald?” Leo asked, immediately sensing that something wasn’t right.

“I’m fine, Nardo.” He ducked out of Raph’s hold, and put on a smile that he knew wasn’t fooling anyone. “Get some rest, boys.”

Mikey’s hands had extensive burns, all the way up to his elbows. He needed a reapplication of aloe and new bandages at least four times a day, so Donnie had to make multiple runs for supplies in the middle of the night.

“Where are you getting these from?” Mikey softly asked, pointing at the pink bandages Donnie brought to his bedside on the third night.

“Pharmacies,” Donnie replied truthfully, finishing up and taping the edge of the bandage down.

Mikey squinted. “How are you getting these?”

“What do you mean ‘how’?”

“You’re just walking in?”

“Michael!” Donnie gasped, placing an offended hand over his own chest. “I don’t appreciate what you’re insinuating. I’m getting these supplies like everyone else in New York is getting supplies!”

“Which is?”

“By throwing a rock through a Walgreens window and grabbing them.”

“DONNIE!”

“Michealangelo, you must rest.” Donnie gathered up the bandages, smiling softly as Mikey laughed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“What about you?” Mikey asked. Donnie looked up to see Mikey staring directly at him. “You haven’t slept in a while.”

“I’m good,” Donnie shrugged. “I’ve got a lot to work on.”

“Please?” Mikey asked. He scooted himself to the edge of the makeshift medical bed. “Just rest for a bit.”

Donnie blew heavily through his nose, knowing that he already lost the battle. He couldn’t say no to Mikey. And a bit of rest might actually do him some good. He had been feeling warm all day, and the stinging in his shell had gotten so much worse from when Raph had hugged him.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But only for a few hours.”

He crawled into bed next to Mikey, sitting up just a bit so he could set an alarm clock on his wrist pad.

“Aren’t you going to take off your battleshell?” Mikey mumbled, already halfway asleep.

Donnie didn’t reply, instead choosing to lay his head down and close his eyes.

He would just be out for a few hours – then he needed to get back to work.

When Donnie awoke, he was on the floor.

“Donnie?” he heard Mikey mumble. “Donnie are you okay?”

The alarm hadn’t gone off yet, Donnie realized distantly.

His body felt – bruised, as if it had just went through something horrible. He tried to stand up, but his right leg quickly gave out, and he collapsed once more.

“Donnie?” Mikey was more panicked now. “What’s going on?”

He – He didn’t know. Something was wrong. His voice wasn’t working. He was so hot. He held a hand up to his forehead, realizing that he was sweating profusely.

“Mikey – I think I-” Donnie’s leg kicked out, and he collapsed completely. There was a moment of quiet, and he started to convulse on the floor.

The last thing he heard was Mikey screaming for help, and Leo bursting into the room.

That asshole. He was supposed to be on bedrest.

Donnie came to slowly. The clock on the counter read 4:16, but he wasn’t sure if it was morning or night. He saw his battleshell resting on a chair. The dried blood on the edges made Donnie want to go right back to bed, but he continued looking around the room. Raph was curled into a chair by the door, icepack still in hand. Mikey was in a chair by his bed, one arm draped over Donnie, snoring softly. He woke as soon as Donnie started to stir.

“Donnie!” Mikey gasped, “Oh my gosh, we were so worried!”

Donnie brought an exhausted hand up to Mikey’s head, patting him softly.

Leo, unfortunately, was not asleep. He was standing in the center of the room, staring right at him.

“Good morning?” Donnie croaked. His throat felt like sandpaper. Leo silently grabbed a water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to his twin. He drank half of it. “What’s the verdict?” he drawled.

Leo held out his hand and started to count on his fingers. “Multiple open wounds, all pus-filled, all showing signs of advanced infection. A fever of 104 degrees. Large second-degree burns all over your body. Evidence of cranial swelling. Irregular heartbeat. Three seizures so far.” Leo dropped his hands to his sides. “I’ve run out of fingers.”

Donnie said nothing, dipping his head slightly and waiting for the yelling to commence. If he was Leo, he would be furious. He would be screaming. He would be smacking people upside the head.

Instead - there was nothing.

He looked back up, cringing when he saw Leo silently crying.

“We almost lost you, Donnie.” Raph’s quiet voice cut through the room as he slowly got up. “We all almost lost you.”

Donnie said nothing, not trusting his voice to speak.

The room was silent once more.

“We can’t keep doing this, Donatello,” Leo finally choked out. His shoulders dropped, and he shook his head side-to-side. “Our family can’t take much more of this.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Donnie snapped, ignoring the way Mikey squeezed him in response.

“I know!” Leo whispered. He walked over with Raph, finding a seat near Donnie’s bedside. “I know.”

Donnie squeezed his eyes shut, not expecting that honest of a response. He felt Raph wrap a large arm around his shoulders, and Leo reached out to grab his hand.

Tears fell from his eyes as the Hamato boys gathered together, and simply tried to hold on.

Chapter Text

At the end of the day, Donnie understood that he had no one to blame but himself.

When he stood in front of the mirror (and he very rarely did), every scar on his back was because of him.

He was the one who had foolishly crawled under Raph when they were children.

He was the one who had turned his back on the squid yokai.

He was the one who took control of the Krang ship, and ignored the injuries until they were too much to bear.

He was the one who wasn’t quick enough to avoid the blow from Shredder, Big Mama, Draxum, Meat Sweats, –the list goes on and on.

Every scar on his back was a reminder of a time in his life that he failed. And he was sick of looking at them.

After the stint with the Krang, his shell was severely infected. The wounds on his back were in need of constant medication and bandages, just to keep the infection under control. As soon as Donnie was able to walk, Leo had declared a strict “No Battleshells Policy” for the entire lair. Mikey even made a sign, a drawing of Donnie’s battleshell, with a giant red “X” painted over it. The weight of the battleshell would make things worse, and would prevent him from monitoring the soft shell’s healing.

When Donnie complained that the policy only had consequences for him, Leo changed it to a “No Battleshells and No Hawaiian Pizza” policy. Raph and Mikey had nodded sagely at the change, declaring it to be only fair. A picture of a pizza was added to the sign the following day, and Donnie knew the battle was lost. The rest of his family was almost as stubborn as he was.

“How much longer?” Donnie’s muffled voice asked. He was facedown in a beanbag, with Leo kneeling on the ground beside him. Raph and Mikey were sprawled over the other couch, absentmindedly flicking through the channels.

Leo sighed. It had been a little over a month since Donnie had collapsed in the middle of the night. The echoes of Mikey’s screams that night had played in his head on a loop since then. He dreamed more of the moment when he took off the battleshell from his fallen brother then he did of the Krang invasion. Not a day went by when he didn’t have flashbacks of Donnie seizing in his arms, of a silently crying Raph picking Donnie up, looking much, much older than he actually was.

“Leo?” Donnie asked again. He tilted his head to look at his twin. “I asked how much longer.”

Leo shook his head, pointlessly trying to shake away memories. Four of the of the wounds were already dressed. One more to get through. He peeled the bandage off, noting with satisfaction that all that came up was dried blood. There was no puss, no infection, nothing out of the ordinary.

“It looks good, man. It really does.” Leo placed a new bandage, not even bothering to add gauze. “A week more? Maybe?”

Donnie immediately placed his head back down in the beanbag, groaning.

“That’s great, Donnie!” Raph piped up. The whites of one of his eyes had been permanently dyed pink, courtesy of the Krang, but it shined nonetheless. “You’ll be back in fighting shape soon enough!”

Donnie waited until Leo had finished taping the bandage down before he rolled over. He shot Leo a small smile, which Leo knew to take as thanks.

“It’ll be weird seeing you with a battleshell again,” Mikey yawned, stretching his hands above his hands. Thin white scars danced up his arms, reminding Donnie of shattered glass. “I’ve gotten used to you like this.”

“I haven’t,” Donnie spat. Three pairs of eyes were on him before he could even attempt to cover that admission up with a joke.

“What do you mean, Donnie?” Raph asked gently, his anxious hands settling in his lap. He had his “Let’s Talk” voice, which Donnie had been on the receiving end of more than he cared to admit these last few weeks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mikey pulling on a turtleneck. Which meant Doctor Feelings was not far behind.

Donnie pushed himself up and out of the beanbag. He –

He couldn’t do this right now.

He knew they meant well. He just-

He had had enough heart-to-hearts to last him a lifetime. He had seen his brothers cry way more than he should have ever had to. He couldn’t do this again.

“Nothing, you big babies. I just mean I haven’t gotten used to seeing me without my battleshell. I used to wear it constantly.” He kept his voice nonchalant, walking over to Mikey. They didn’t need to know that he felt like half of the turtle he used to be. He used one hand to pull the turtleneck off of the box shell, holding it up high so Mikey couldn’t reach. They didn’t need to know that he was afraid of reflections, that he felt like a burden, that he was absolutely positive that his brothers would be better off without him.

Mikey immediately began complaining and jumping to reach his turtleneck, causing Raph to get up to take the sweater from Donnie.

Donnie dramatically protested, but gave up without much of a fight, laughing at Mikey’s squeal of happiness when the clothing was returned.

He turned to Leo, planning on throwing a well-timed barb to bring his twin into the chaos. But when he turned, the look on Leo’s face told him that he hadn’t been able to fool him at all.

Leo opened his mouth, more than likely to call Donnie on his bullshit, but was cut off by the lair’s alarm.

Donnie quickly dropped his eyes to his wrist-pad, pulling up reports.

“It’s Hypno.”

“He survived the Krang?” Raph asked, almost surprised.

“He must have.” Donnie tapped a few more buttons, pulling up a map. “He’s at the Statue of Liberty,” Donnie rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“Let’s get going y’all!” Mikey yelled, already running to the tank, Raph close behind.

Donnie turned to join them, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Leo-,” Donnie all but growled, “I’m not doing this now.”

“I’m not going to stop you,” the slider promised, and when did his brother get so calm? “Are you sure you’re ready? Without your shell?”

And there was a part of Donnie, a small, small part, that wanted to answer No, I don’t think I am, I don’t think I ever will be.

And Leo, able to read his twin like a book, asked one more question.

“You know you’ve got nothing to prove, right Donnie?”

Donnie just laughed, and it came out sounding a bit like a sob. He turned and ran toward the tank, Tech-Bō in hand. He heard Leo’s footsteps following closely behind, and he knew that this conversation wasn’t over.

Hypno was –

Hypno was definitely attacking. Why he was attacking, and what his actual plan was –that was still to be discovered.

He seemed to be just sending random bursts of mystic energy at anything that moved. Cars and storefronts alike were exploding in bursts of purple and green. And a maniacal hippo was laughing hysterically at the center of it all.

“Humans have evacuated,” Donnie called out as they pulled up to the wreckage.

“That’s good,” Leo mumbled as he looked out of the tank’s window. “Is he – is he crying?” He pointed at Hypno. “Is our evil villain crying?”

“I don’t see Warren Stone anywhere.” Mikey whispered.

“Where did you get another turtleneck??” Donnie sputtered in the background.

“This may be a case of a broken heart,” Mikey continued, ignoring his older brother and pulling up his sweater. Leo and Raph howled with laugher in the background. “There might be trouble in this here paradise.”

“Oh my god,” Donnie chuckled, and turned his eyes back to issue at hand. Raph drove the tank closer, and Donnie saw as Hypno took notice of them.

“Oh, he definitely is crying,” Raph mumbled. “Poor guy.”

“Let me handle this, boys,” Donnie drawled as they pulled to a stop. He stepped out of the tank, waving off Leo’s protests. He could handle it. He needed to handle it. If he couldn’t handle an emotional Hypno, what was even the point of him?

“Hypno!” he yelled, leaning on his Tech-Bō. “I know of at least two turtles who would be willing to talk this out with you!” He pointed back toward the tank. “One of them has even got an outfit on already!”

Hypno took a threatening step toward them, and Donnie distantly wondered if he should be concerned.

The hippo held out a hand, and Donnie felt a wave of mystic energy thunder by him. He may have been needing to prove something today, but he wasn’t an idiot. He turned around to wave the other three out of the tank, when Hypno –

Hypno closed his hand into a fist.

And the tank crumpled.

Another wave of mystic energy, and the tank sailed through the air, landing in New York’s Upper Bay.

Donnie’s feet were moving before he was fully aware of the fact. He was running faster than he ever had, completely ignoring the laughter of Hypno behind him.

His brothers –

His brothers were in that tank.

And it was sinking.

There were no portals forming in the sky, bringing his brothers to safety. He didn’t hear the hum of Raph’s Ninpo, punching his way out of the tank that was slowly sinking. He didn’t hear Mikey yelling for help at all.

They must be unconscious, his brain supplied, as he reached the edge of the bay and dived in.

The water silenced the chaos of the city. The only noise was the beating drum of his heart as he swam desperately toward the still sinking tank.

He needed to get inside.

 He had lifejackets on the tank, he just needed to attach them to his brothers.

He had also built in a disassemble protocol for instances just like this. A few clicks, and the tank would fall to pieces.

I just need to – Donnie kicked his legs furiously, ignoring the burning in his lungs. The tank was falling quicker than he could swim.  He wouldn’t come back up without them. He wouldn’t. Not after all this.

There was a thud, and a cloud of dirt billowed out. They were at the bottom. One last pull, one last kick, and Donnie was there. He grabbed on to the side of the tank, pulling at the door. It was stuck. A panicked scream bubbled up in his throat, which was quickly swallowed down.

He swam over to the tank’s windshield, thanking whoever was listening that it had been broken in the attack. He dove through the window headfirst, grabbing the tank dashboard to try and pull himself through.

He didn’t quite make it. The tank’s window was small, reinforced by steel bars. He was caught at the widest point of his shell, halfway into the tank. Black dots swarmed Donnie’s vision as he thrashed, unable to move further.

His hands started to droop, and his legs stopped kicking.

He wouldn’t come back up without them. He wouldn’t come back up at all.

He opened his eyes one last time, and saw –

Donnie saw his brothers. Floating in the water, completely unconscious.

In the tank’s emergency lights, Donnie saw blood trickling out of Leo’s mouth.

And this time Donnie did scream, an angry yell that only came out as bubbles.

Not them. He wouldn’t lose them. He couldn’t lose them. He grabbed the tank’s dashboard one final time, and pulled with everything he had. He felt the edges of his shell slowly bend inwards as Donnie pushed himself through the window. With a final kick, he forced his way inside, frantically swimming toward the center control panel.

His vision was almost completely gone, and the burning in his lungs was excruciating. He opened up a glass case on the panel, and slammed a red button inside. Mechanized life jackets, much like the escape pods, flew out, attaching themselves to Leo, Mikey, Raph, and himself.

He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. He couldn’t feel his legs.

Donnie forced his eyes to stay open, desperately punching in the passcode for the tank disassembly.

Hold on, he begged. Hold on. And he wasn’t even sure what he was begging for. For his brother’s lives, for his own, for just a little more time, for anything.

A green light flashed in Donnie’s face, and the tank fell apart right as Donnie blacked out.

For the second time in his life, Donnie regained consciousness while spitting up water.

He was face down in the grass, and extremely, extremely confused.

“Donnie! Oh, thank god!” Weakly, Donnie lifted his head to see his three brothers, all sprawled out on the grass as well.

Mikey was throwing up into the grass, and the pale face of Leo told Donnie that he had recently done the same. Raph was the only one sitting up.

They were alive. Donnie scrambled to his feet.

“What-? How did we-?"

“I woke up in the middle of the bay, also throwing up water,” Raph explained, picking seaweed out of the spikes of his shell. “You three were out like lights.”

Donnie felt his eyes well up, and his hands started to shake. They had been so close. He had been so close to losing them.

“Did you carry us back?” Mikey asked weakly, and Raph nodded in response.

“But Donnie was the one who got us out!” Raph smiled. “We would’ve still been at the bottom!”

“Donnie?” Leo called softly. “Hey, are you alright?”

No, Donnie thought. No, I am not. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, instead, he tackled his three idiots, choking back sobs. He felt his brother’s arms wrap around him, heard the soft murmuring of Leo and Mikey, but he couldn’t stop shaking. He rested his head against Raph’s plastron, sighing when Raph leaned his head on top of his.

“Donnie?” Leo called. “Your shell. It’s bruised around the edges. Cut up a bit.”

And Donnie just laughed, and pulled his brothers in tighter, beyond thankful for the soft shell on his back.