Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

None of them saw it coming, which might’ve just infuriated him the most.

Nobody had eyes on each other because nobody was worried – why should they be? How many times had they bested Meat Sweats? The routine was almost boring. It hadn’t occurred to him, then, what that might say about them; how the routine of incapacitating someone only for them to show up, again and again, might reflect on them more than the villain. They’d been as naive as they’d been cocky. Standard. It was easy to hope for change when you had the gold standard of bad guys, Baron fucking Draxum, wearing a hairnet and working with children due to your efforts. But it wasn’t really their efforts, was it? If it wasn’t for Shredder…

He was getting off-topic.

None of them saw it at first, but all of them heard it: a thud, a crack, and a scream. All eyes moved to Michelangelo and, if it hadn’t been for Raph, the tenderizer very well may have met their youngest brother again. Donnie didn’t see what happened next. He was stunned. His mind had fixed on Mikey, hardly registering the pained cries of Meat Sweats as the eldest finished the job. Leo’d already huddled over their injured brother. His hands ghosted over the site of the injury itself: an unsettling bump on his arm. A break in his humerus, maybe.

(Humerus. Humerus, radius, ulna, carpals… Mentally, he recited the names of different bones, because it was an easy out, a simple way to put his brain somewhere else.)

“Don?” The voice didn’t seem to click at first, his attention only pulled forward by a hand placed on his shoulder. The unexpectedness of it made him flinch. He could all but feel the guilt rolling off Raphael afterward, and he didn't dare meet his gaze. “Oh, uh, sorry. We’re heading out. Mikey needs to get to the med bay.”

He didn’t respond, and, thank God, Raph didn’t seem to expect him to. He just turned and took off. Donnie had the whole trip back to retreat into his thoughts.

---

Back at the Lair, they’d all busied themselves with something or another. Leonardo hurried Michel to the med bay and Raph took to hovering directly outside, waiting for some call to be useful. That was all fine and good. The situation was only made unnerving by the eldest peering at him through thoughtfully narrowed eyes.

Despite the emotional constipation that ran through the family, his brothers were annoyingly good at reading one another. It was like the three of them had keyed in on some mystic brother-sense. Unfortunately, his skills in that particular field weren’t… quite as sharp. It made times like this all the more awkward. What vibe was he supposed to be feeling right now? Was he supposed to say something? This, combined with the latest incident, made him wonder about his role as the attentive brother.

“It’s not your fault.” Raphael placated, like he could read his thoughts, and winced as Donnie gave a blank hum of acknowledgment. Of course it was his fault. He was the smart one, the observant one, the one that should know better. All four of them were experts in self-flagellation, but Donatello excelled. Not that he’d ever admit to it. It wasn’t something to admit to if it was grounded in reality, he thought. He failed, so he should feel bad. It was a simple equation. Still, Raph was looking at him like he wanted to continue this heartfelt discussion, so he leaned forward minutely. This simple gesture of ‘yes, I’m listening' seemed to almost ease the worried crease in the other’s brow. “It’s nobody’s fault ‘cept, y’know, Meat Sweats. Besides, he’ll be fine. Mikey always bounces back quick.”

It was true enough. Mikey always healed quickly, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t dealt with broken bones before. Still.

“He shouldn’t have to.” The pomp and frills of his usual speech were stripped somewhere in the black hole that seemed to be consuming his energy. He didn’t fail to see the way Raph shifted with unease, like he’d expected the typical layer of dramatics. Perhaps it would’ve been easier to swallow that way. “If I hadn’t failed to notice in time, he wouldn’t have to.”

“You did all that you could, Donnie. We all did.” Another true enough statement. Given the circumstances, they acted accordingly; what a shame that said circumstances were so self-made. It didn’t ease his concerns. This battle had played out over and over, but one slip cost them their brother's wellbeing. How could they let this happen? Why hadn’t they stopped it in the first place?

A light bulb goes off.

“Not all, Raphael.” His brother tensed, expectant, and he obliged. “We’ve fought this fight too many times. If we’d just sealed our victories with a final blow…” He stood from where he’d been seated, locking eyes with his increasingly uncomfortable sibling for as long as he could stand to do so. “… this – this and so much more could’ve been avoided.”

Raph gaped for a moment. “Sorry, what?” How frustrating. Just when he thought he was making perfect sense. With a sigh, he turned toward the direction of the lab, stretching his arms over his head. Exhaustion tugged at him, but there was no time. No time at all.

“I have work to do.”

Chapter Text

If asked, he would’ve denied it, but Leo was worried.

Donnie had always been a shut-in. It was just part of being the family nerd, he figured. A hallmark of dweebiness, a rite of passage into dorkdom, et cetera. It’d been days, though, and the lab was still shut down tight. As far as Leo was aware, he hadn’t even come out to eat. Not even for pizza. Who doesn’t show up for pizza? That was both off-brand and concerning. So, yeah, he was worried, and he was pretty sure Don needed a good old ‘take care of yourself, dumbass’ talking to. Normally, he’d enlist the help of Raph, but the poor guy was still hand-wringing over Mikey (Who was fine, by the way. He didn’t appreciate his medical expertise being doubted.) and hardly needed another thing to stress out over. He’d just have to take care of it himself.

No big deal. Leo was the champion of forced self-care. Who said you couldn’t weaponize a weighted blanket? Whoever it was, they were wrong.

“Doooonnie.” He spoke in a sing-song voice as he approached the door, tapping his knuckles against it. No response. “Don. Donald. Dee. Dontron.” Despite his top-notch annoyance skills, there wasn’t so much as a peeved hiss. His worry grew, and it came out in his next words: “Please, Donatello.” There was another moment of silence. Then, the familiar click of the door unlocking. Booyah. Dropping the full-name-bomb always worked. Raph’d be proud.

The first thing that hit him was how messed up the lab was. Donnie liked a little mess, in his experience – what might’ve looked cluttered to everyone else was actually organized chaos, as the scientist once put it. This… wasn’t a little mess. Torn and crumpled papers were strewn all over the floor, clearly not even attempting to hit the trashcan – which had toppled over, anyway. There were several dirty coffee cups, which were a puzzle all on their own. Did he have a collection of coffee cups in the lab? Weird. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. This guy was a caffeine junkie.

The second thing that hit him was how awful Donnie looked. Hunched over his newest doohickey, shoulders tense, an unmistakable shake in his hands. He hadn’t even taken off his battle shell. Leo bit back the faint swell of guilt in his gut and tried not to wonder if he should’ve checked in sooner. Dee could take care of himself, he just… didn’t, sometimes. Work before health was something of a family heirloom.

“Heeeeyy, bud.” Ooh, that was awkward. If he wanted to make any ground here, the designated face-man would have to dial his charisma up to eleven. “How you doin’? And don’t say ‘fine’, ‘cause you know I know better.” Finally, Donnie offered at least some of his attention to Leo, tilting his head to acknowledge his presence.

“As much as I appreciate your concern,” he said, with about as little appreciation as a person could muster, Leo thought, “I am fine, Leonardo.” He cringed a bit. Don used the full-name-bomb more than anybody, but, man, he was good at using it. Something in his tone made him feel more like a co-worker than a brother. He let the awkwardness pass and crossed his arms with a scoff.

“Right. Because the whole not sleeping or eating, surviving on coffee and spite alone thing is just…” He gestured vaguely at the space in front of him, squinting, “… for looks? C’mon, Donnie, we’ve done this before. Make it easy on both of us.” From the way his shoulders stayed rigid, jaw firmly set, Leo could tell he wasn’t planning on making it easy for anybody. Hadn’t his twin said something once about immovable objects and unstoppable forces? It felt fitting right about now.

“I am not a child. I know what my body is capable of. I’ve been sleeping in short, sporadic bursts when the need arises.” Leo didn’t let him continue.

“Fancy talk for ‘sometimes I pass out for a while’ isn’t a replacement for actual sleep, dude.” For a guy who claimed he was a super-genius, getting him to agree that his unhealthy habits were, in fact, unhealthy was like chewing on rocks. Hard, painful, and you might lose a couple of teeth. Maybe that’s why Raph was so much better at it. He could bite through anything. “Whatever you’re doing won’t run away while you’re sleeping or eating. Promise. Maybe.” Somehow, this statement made the other look even more annoyed.

“This has to get done as soon as possible. If more conflict starts and I’m not ready…” Donnie paused, clenched his shaking hands into fists, and allowed just enough time for Leo to get even more worried. He felt like his worry gland was about to burst. “I have to be ready, Leo. I can’t fail again. Mikey paid the price.” He wanted to feel bad. He could imagine Raph clicking his tongue and cooing like the mother hen he was. It would’ve been a better response, probably.

Instead, he got agitated.

“Seriously, that’s what this is about? Come on, man! All he did was break his arm! It’s not like he died!” He threw his hands up into the air in a signal of ‘I can’t believe this shit’, because he was tired, endlessly concerned, and now annoyed. All three of them have a direct cause sitting a couple of feet ahead of him. “It’s so easy for you to blame yourself--”

“You think any of this is easy?” Donnie was wide-eyed, expression twisted with something between disbelief and irritation, which made him even angrier. Mr. Self-Proclaimed Genius couldn’t see why anyone might be mad at him for being the most ridiculous guy in the room.

“Yeah! I think it’s really easy!” He laughed as he spoke, but it was humorless and bitter. “Why blame anyone that’s actually guilty when you’ve already got a head start in hating yourself?”

The room fell silent. Donnie broke the eye contact, lowering his head and creasing his brow. Maybe he’d taken it too far – but it was true. It was true, he repeated mentally, and refused to think about how utterly dejected his brother looked. It needed to be said, right? Sometimes the hard truth just needed to get out there. Right? Uncertainty was already raising in his throat like bile, but he gave himself no time to try and backtrack. He left the lab with more doubts than he’d entered with. It was time to get Raph involved.

Chapter Text

Leo was wrong. Obviously he was wrong, he was Leo.

Donnie couldn’t help but wonder, then, why his words dug so deep. It seemed that being bested by those he underestimated was becoming a trend. A maddening trend. It was free ammunition for his own self-doubt; was he really weak enough to allow a comment made by his own brother truly upset him? Pathetic. There was no time to be upset.

Yet, as he continued his work, he found himself consistently distracted. Hate himself? No, of course not. He was just aware of his own flaws. There was no way to improve without harsh criticism, and no one was better at giving said criticism than himself. He did something wrong. He’d been thwarted due to his own oversights, and hadn’t even been the one to pay for it. The correct form of action was to remind himself of his failure until it was rectified. It was so simple. Why could no one see it?

“You still up, Dee?” The voice, muffled as it was, startled him from his thoughts enough to drop what he was doing. He glanced down, raising a brow at his own work. The wiring was amateur compared to what he was typically capable of. Sigh. It’d just have to be redone. “I get it if you don’t wanna talk right now. Just… let me know you’re okay so I can go back to sleep.” Raphael. Of course Leo would drag him into this.

“I’m okay.” Even he was able to recognize how unconvincing he sounded, but he was okay! Talking was just difficult. His tongue felt like lead, and his mouth tasted like iron. The effort it took to offer such a meager statement was nearly insurmountable. He could only hope that it was enough.

“Uh-huh.” It was, evidently, not enough. “Can I come in?” There was no right answer. If he said yes, he’d have to deal with yet another lecture given by someone that just didn’t understand how important this was. If he said no, Raphael’s worry would tenfold as he imagined the worst possible scenario, and Donnie would have to be listed as one of the causes of his brother’s future stress-induced cardiomyopathy. Lesser of two evils…

The door clicked open for the second time tonight. Raph looked like he’d just been woken up, which… he probably had. He put away a mental note to get onto Leo for starting all this in the small hours of the morning.

“Look, I don’t know what Leo said to you, but... oh, geez, Donnie.” He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as his brother eyed the current state of the lab. So what if he hadn’t gotten around to cleaning yet? There were far more pressing matters. If he kept his gaze on his work, he could even pretend it wasn’t starting to bother him. Raphael tsked, because, of course, he didn’t get it. “Why don’t we try and get a few hours of sleep, huh? Then we can sort this… uh – all this stuff in the morning. Everyone’ll feel better by then.” Feeling better was a tempting prospect. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, his energy preserves were running low, and it was impacting his skills. That just wouldn’t do. No amount of caffeine could make up for poor craftsmanship.

Raphael immediately perked up as he moved to stand on slightly wobbly legs, likely expecting more of a fight. He had neither patience nor will for a brotherly battle at the moment. He rarely won, anyway. He pressed the release on his battle shell, letting it fall haphazardly to the chair behind him. Before the relief of losing the weight came a sudden recognition of just how sore he’d been. The ache must’ve been clear, because his brother’s face softened as he watched him.

“Before you go.” Raph glanced away, rubbing his palms together. “What you said a few days ago, about… final blows or whatever. You weren’t being serious, right?” Mentally, he sighed. If only he knew how serious he was. He mustered enough energy for a parting sentiment.

“I’m doing what needs to be done.” There was a moment of silence long enough for him to leave, already grateful for the rest he was about to get. He’d function much better with a bit of sleep. With a task of such importance, functioning at his best was key, after all. Nobody wants to use a faulty weapon.

Chapter Text

It was the morning after Donnie’s confirmation that yes, he was planning on killing people, and Raph wasn’t really sure how to handle it.

Donnie was always a little worrying morality-wise. He wasn’t a bad person, just… kinda feral, maybe. Bitier than the others. His taste for violence could be concerning, sure, but never ‘straight-up murder’-level concerning. Until now.

Raph was holding out hope that sleep would put his brother’s brain in the right place. Everyone gets loopy when they don’t get enough rest, right? It did little to calm his nerves, but it was a nice thought. It wasn’t surprising that he was stressed out. In this crazy family, it was practically his job. He just wished he could be stressed about the sibling that was actually hurt.

“Raph! Raph!” Speak of the turtle. Mikey tiptoed into the kitchen, sending a glance over his shoulder before he grinned eagerly. “Before Leo finds me, sign my cast! I brought markers!”

“It’s not a cast! It’s a brace.” Protested Leo, who was apparently tailing the youngest. “And don’t sign it! It’s medical equipment – oh, ew, I sound like Don. Never mind. Do what you want.” Then, he paused, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “By the way, Raph, not that I care, but how did it go? Last night, I mean.”

“Fine. He went to sleep.” Leo didn’t need to know the rest, he figured. There was no need to drag anybody else into it. He’d figure it out, talk Donnie down if he needed to, and that’d be the end of it. Easy. Leo gave a hesitant nod, and Mikey looked completely lost. Time for a subject change. “So! Breakfast?” That caught their attention.

“Ooh! Let me!” Mikey was met with two immediate stares of disapproval.

“No need. I have cereal-pouring skills that’d put Captain Crunch himself to shame.”

---

By the time Donnie ambled out of his room, none of them were really expecting him to show up, so Raph was already starting to clear the table. (The other two had scrambled off in cries of ‘not it!’ not long before.) He looked barely any better than he had the other night, but he was present. Raph counted that as a win.

“Hey there!” He was trying his darndest to turn on his big brother charms, wide smile and all. “Breakfast is served, if you’re…” He trailed off as he motioned to the now extremely soggy cereal. Probably should’ve held off on the milk until the guy was actually there, huh? Gross. Donnie had his snout scrunched up in disgust. “… hungry.”

“Tempting.” The familiar sarcasm was music to Raph’s ears. He didn’t mean to get his hopes up, but maybe things were finally getting back to normal. The younger brother grabbed a granola bar from some cupboard and turned to head toward the lab, of course. Too bad the older one was hot on his trail. There was no way he was getting off that easy.

“So, what’re you workin’ on now?” It seemed like an easy in, and, if the way Donnie’s eyes lit up had anything to say about it, it was.

“Oh, it’s a thing of glory, Raphael. The technology necessary to take our weaponry past the point of simply disarming our foes has always been there! We just haven’t utilized it yet.” The scientist fidgeted as he spoke, curling and uncurling his fingers repeatedly. The charm of seeing his brother so excited was a little lost with the reaffirmation of his murder plans. “God, there is so much untapped potential! Here, let me show you my first project.” Before he even had time to process, he was being pulled into the lab.

“This is, uh, interesting, Dee, but--”

“Wait until you see it!” What had he gotten himself into? Donnie was so eager, and he was here to, what, stomp on his dreams? Murder dreams, he reminded himself. Better to stomp on murder dreams before they turn into murder reality.

“Okay, it’s still a work in progress. Keep that in mind.” He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see. Some sort of nuclear weapon, maybe, or an upgraded tech-bō. Instead, it… looked a lot like Shelldon’s original model, if a little bigger. More purple, too. “I know what you’re thinking. Another flying robot? Bah! Unoriginal!” Not at all what he’d been thinking, for the record. “At first I thought about just outfitting Shelldon with some upgrades, but I believe it’s best to leave such advanced, opinionated AI out of these matters. You know how it is.”

“Right.” He was at a loss for words. This was totally insane, and for sure not going to be as easy as the ‘don’t do that’ talk he was imagining. This issue ran deep. How was Raph going to pull him out? It was hard, especially with Donnie honestly smiling for the first time in what felt like forever, but he had to say something. “But don’t you think this is... morally wrong? Heroes don’t kill people. We help them, all of them, even the bad ones.”

All at once, the bright energy around his brother seemed to drain away. The room felt dark. “Temporary solutions haven’t worked. They have never worked. This is ensuring that any future harm they could inflict would be stopped for good.”

“That takes away any chance they have of joinin’ the good side.”

“That doesn’t fucking happen, Raph!” He was yelling, and despite it all, Raph couldn't find it in himself to be mad at him for it. He must’ve been sitting on this hurt since their bout with Meat Sweats. Something about emotional bottles and their tendency to burst when you stuff too much in there. “People don’t just change! Do you think Baron Draxum wouldn’t have torn this world apart if he hadn’t been backed into a corner?” Then, he smiled in the worst way possible. It was all tight-lipped and bared teeth like he was getting ready to bite. His eyes were tired and bloodshot and angry. “That’s what I’m doing. I’m backing them into a corner.”

“Jesus, Donnie.” It was all he could think to say.

Before the crazed rantings could continue, an alert went off on one of the monitors. Donnie turned, read the message carefully, and that swell of energy filled the room once more – but it felt wrong, now. Twisted in some way. “Some sort of bug mutant attacking a farmers’ market. Why don’t we pick this conversation up later, dear brother?”

In any other moment, he would’ve stood his ground, but their duties came first. He could only hope the grin he spotted on his younger brother’s face wasn’t as malicious as it felt.

Chapter Text

In a stunning turn of events, Donatello was exhilarated.

Though his brother’s outright disapproval put a damper on things, he wasn’t going to let it ruin this golden opportunity. There would be no debating right or wrong after this display. True, his project was still in its early stages, but there was no better place to test new tech than on the field. He would’ve preferred a more… dignified foe to act as the catalyst, but the timing was impeccable! This villain should feel honored. It would mark the start of something much greater.

It wasn’t difficult to spot the carnage. Civilians fled the scene with shouts of terror, stalls were torn apart, debris littered the street, and at the center of it all stood a particularly repulsive ant-like mutant. Donnie was never fond of insects. Super-sizing them certainly didn’t change that. Even Raphael made a disgusted sound as the mutant turned to face them, its bulging compound eyes settling on them.

“Ew. Remind me to thank Barry for making us turtles and not bugs.” Leonardo quipped.

The insect charged forward, so his brothers met it halfway, eagerly wielding their weapons. Donnie, however, stayed behind, pulling out a small device: the controls to his project. He’d hoped to connect it directly to his tech-gauntlet, but desperate times called for more primitive technology, he supposed. With the push of a button, the robot was by his side. He wasn’t in love with the design, and its response time could be quicker… He took mental notes. It was best to outline plans for future upgrades early, after all. But there were better places to do it than in the middle of a battlefield, so he centered his attention and got to work.

The device in his hands softly buzzed as the robot flew forward, locked its sights, and began shooting lasers at the mutant. It gave a pained screech as parts of its chitin burned, and it flailed wildly in an attempt to reach the machine responsible. The other turtles both stumbled in surprise.

“Lasers? That feels like a little much for... this guy.” Raph cringed at the enemy’s wailing, yet kept his tonfās at the ready.

“Would bullets have been better? Flames, maybe? I haven’t outfitted it with insecticide yet.” He responded with a smug smirk, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you have any suggestions, I’m more than willing to listen.”

“Donnie, we can’t--” A clawed hand swung down onto the snapping turtle’s shoulder, leaving massive tears in the flesh as it reached back up to resume its frenzied attempt to stop his invention. It was getting lethargic, weary and wounded, but that didn’t make the mark it left any lighter. “Christ!” The injured groaned and backed away, breath unsteady.

Donatello wasn’t shocked by the injury. He wasn’t even all that worried. Something did pulse through his veins, though. Something stirred at the sight of another injured family member and it wasn’t even close to the concern he was expecting. It was an emotion he only knew how to explain through experience. He saw wires sparking. He tasted fire. He smelled smoke. He heard screaming. Only the last one was real, and he only knew because it had wrenched from his own throat, wrathful and chaotic and done with this shit. Though he had marked this mutant for death the moment he knew of it, now it had earned its suffering. His fingers danced around the controls as he threw everything he had forward; even when the mutant fell limp, unconscious, he continued. He had to. His brothers weren’t safe yet, and his rage wasn’t spent.

“Donnie?” Leo turned to face him. “That’s enough. It’s down.” Nobody got it. Nobody understood. That was fine. He’d make them understand, wouldn’t he? It was for them! It was a fucking gift!

A sickening crack. The sound of an exoskeleton being shattered as it slid to the side, impaling its weakened chitin on rogue debris. It sounded familiar. A bone being broken, maybe?

“Jesus! Stop, Don!” Was Leo mad? Was Leo mad at him? He was doing a good thing. He was being a good brother. He was protecting his family, protecting his siblings. He was fixing the mess he made by not being good enough in the first place.

Whatever internal short-circuit had clouded his senses only worsened as he was tackled to the ground, controls pried from his hands. He screamed, clawed, bit at whatever was holding him, because he wasn’t done. He had to finish this, he had to, he had to! “Ow! What the fuck?” There was blood in his mouth. A bite had landed, but he wasn’t being let go. He needed to get free. His weapon was so close… “Dude, calm down!”

Leo? Fuck. It was always Leo. His confusion waned, leaving only his fury.

“Get off of me!” He howled, teeth bared, a warning that he’d do it again if he had to. Finally, the weight holding him lifted. The controls weren’t returned. Instead, the device was thrown down beside him, and he reached out – only for a sword to be stabbed through the center of the tech. “No!” His throat tightened as he scrambled to his knees, shaking as he tried to force his overwhelmed brain to figure out what to do. “No, no, no, no!” It was broken. All that time, effort, and it was broken, unable to complete this one task. He failed. Again. He balled his hands into fists, claws digging into his palms. The pain cleared his mind, if only for a thought: this wasn’t his fault. Not totally, anyway. “Leo.”

“Don’t ‘Leo’ me! What was I supposed to do? Let you kill that thing?!” The slider hissed, yanking his sword from the piece of scrap his work had been reduced to. “You went ballistic, man! On some random asshole trashing a farmers’ market! Like, overreaction much?!” He didn’t miss the fear in Leo’s voice.

“I… I almost had him. I was so close.” He moved to his feet, leaning his weight onto his tech-bō. “I could’ve kept him from ever hurting anyone again. Why would you stop me?” He didn’t have the energy to yell anymore. His throat burned.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because that’s MURDER?” His brother seemed bewildered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Guys.” Raphael’s voice was uneven as he approached, body tense. The slashes on his shoulder were undoubtedly nasty, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be treated. “Save the fightin’. Cops are on the way.”

“Okay.” He didn’t feel like giving much more of a response, and, apparently, neither did Leo, who pursed his lips with displeasure but kept silent. He gathered up what was salvageable from the damaged tech, grabbed the idle robot, and began the journey home. It was quiet the whole way. A blessing in disguise, as it gave him time to really think.

How do you factor in idealism when you’re dealing with reality? How do you convince someone that their morals are standing in the way? He needed support. He needed to be able to work without everyone else thinking it was wrong. If he could convince one, surely the others would fall in line, right? But who?

The only one that didn’t know yet. The only well that hadn’t been poisoned. He couldn’t wait to get to the lair.