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Floral bouquet / psychological / “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
Don wasn’t sure how to tell his family what happened, but he also felt like he wasn’t doing enough.
He took the handful of flowers and tied them together into a neat bouquet.
The weight of everything that happened weighed heavy on his heart, and as much as he wanted to tell his brothers, to let them comfort him, this burden was his to carry.
He tucked the bouquet carefully into the edge of his bag so it just held the stems. Every flower had been specifically selected and assorted.
There had been a certain point, when he was back there, and got a moment alone with Mikey while he was working on the Karai Legionnaire. Mikey had asked him something odd.
“Do you think we’ll survive?”
Don had looked at him, lowering his tools for a moment just to stare at the scattered, withered spirit that was what was left of his younger brother.
“Perhaps.”
“I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
Don swallowed. “I’ve never considered you stupid, Mikey. Not for one second.”
“So then stop trying so hard to cover it up like I’m some kid.” Mikey moved right behind him as he was working on welding a metal plate on. “Shit sucks, life’s fucked, and I want to know how far I have to fight to get things to be fixed.”
Donny took a deep breath to steady himself. “I’m sure that this plan will work. No one will have to die. We’ll be ready, together.”
Mikey went quiet for a moment, then huffed. “You promise?”
Don wasn’t sure if he could, he could never promise anything 100%. But he needed to give the other something, some hope to hold on to, that he’d get the chance to see the other side of the battle. “I promise.”
Black Dahlias for betrayal. Amaranthus for the hopelessness the youngest had succumbed to.
He’d had a moment with Leo next, and he sat on the floor beside Don, his eyes closed in concentration.
“Tell me what you’re doing.” he requested.
Don glanced his way, looking back at his worth when he saw the scarring over his eldest brother's eyes. “I’m… uh, soldering some wires together. They’ll connect to the hands of the mech, allowing me more free movement and control as well as housing some of the switches for the artillery I’m loading up…”
“I missed your rants.”
The two went silent for a moment, before Leo shifted.
“Sorry, that was uncalled for. You didn’t mean to leave, or get transported here, or whatever happened.”
“I’m sorry.” Don rubbed his neck. “Whether intentional or not, I really am.”
Leo gave him a smile that he didn’t have to look at to feel the warmth of. “It’s okay, Donny. We’ll have to make up for lost time once all of this is over, yeah?”
Don nodded, an odd feeling of dread settling in his stomach, like impending doom as he dug his own grave another foot deeper. “Yeah.”
purple hyacinth for the loss of time. Buttercups for the darkness the eldest lived in for so long, alone and blinded.
Raph was the final visit, closer to Don than the other two in proximity, at an arm's reach at all times. He seemed so ready to reach out and snatch Donny up at a moment's notice, and Donny knew exactly why.
Somehow, he was the one that had changed the least.
“You know, I’m not sure I really want to know anything more.”
“Excuse me?” Don asked, confused.
Raph shrugged, looking at him and smirking. “I mean, I know how to survive, I don’t really need to know more than that.”
Don thought about it for a moment, but it didn’t really click. “But aren’t you curious to know more?”
Raph chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s what I got you for, Don.”
“But you didn’t.” Don responded, almost too abruptly halting his amusement.
He tilted his head to one side, then the other, weighing his options, then finally huffed. “Well, I’d rather give up learning anything new ever again now, then risk losing you a second time.”
Don took a breath in to control himself, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. “Then I guess I’ll have to be the one to keep learning.”
Raph slung an arm over his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “You always are.”
Begonia for the knowledge he’d failed to have. Gladiolus for the strength Don’s twin had shown facing the world without his other half.
After everything was said and done, Donny stepped into the grave he’d dug and he did it alone. He couldn’t tell his brothers what happened, not when that could affect the outcome. He couldn’t let any of it come to pass, not while he could help it.
Poppies for remembrance and consolation.
So he climbed back out of the grave on his own and walked the path he’d known would lead him to a familiar place. There was no gray sky or foot buildings, and the trees were lush and green, wildflowers spotting the grass below as pops of color and life that felt unrecognizable to Don.
He approached the tree he knew, the one that seemed to retain its shape 30 years into the future, and in front of it, he placed a large round rock he’d had in his back, with a personally made engraving.
No one would know past him about something that hadn’t happened.
But at the same time, if he hadn’t gone, he’d be doomed by the narrative to repeat the same mistakes.
He placed the rock in line with the tree, in the same spot Splinter's walking stick had been propped up on wood. He laid the flowers by it, and sat there, remembering. The events were so fresh in his mind but also felt like hundreds of years ago. He’d walked into each and every encounter with false hope and idiotic beliefs.
He’d walked out with pain greater than anything physically wrong. He had barely earned but a few scratches and some eye bags to tell his tale, but under the surface was a boiling pot ready to burst.
So he took the lid off, and allowed silent, hot tears to stream down his face, watering the hand-picked flowers and engraved stone, mourning deaths that came by his hands, but hadn’t yet.
And when he was done releasing his flow, he took off the purple fabric around his head.
The final touch to the bouquet was the purple mask, tying all the meanings together into one, mournful, tragic cry that was yet to be heard. Staying the same as it never was, nor will be.