Chapter Text
When Donatello woke up this particular morning, his wrist was sore and he had a headache. He wasn't irritated by it. He'd woken up like this before.
He recalled what had happened the night before for an answer to why he had slept well, the occurrence rare. He and Leo had been in battle the night before, and not a short one at that.
They chased some yokai around a dark part of the Hidden City because it had taken a kid's toy during their visit to Witch Town, and it was apparently their fault.
Right, and he was supposed to be mad at Leo to teach his brother a lesson that he somehow hadn't learned. He had been especially annoying recently, breaking things, and he didn't even try to express remorse for his actions. Didn't they grow out of this behavior when they became adults?
Apparently not; Donnie had to act as distant to the slider as he could until he picked up on the discord in their relationship.
Gosh, he didn't want to deal with this at eight a.m. in the morning. Without a cup of coffee, at least, and maybe some Advil for his headache. That would help.
He turned on the light and blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to it. His attention was drawn to the open door, cracked to be only about half closed. Strange, it didn't appear that any of his brothers had snuck in last night.
Donnie got to his feet and pulled a hoodie over his head before grabbing his glasses, resolving to put in contacts later.
His eyes widened as his desk came into focus on the other side of the room. He ran over to the desk, watching his step on the floor.
Donnie stared in horror at the screen in front of him. He stood in front of his desk, observing the monitors he used regularly.
The biggest of the screens had a pen stabbed right into the middle of it. Jagged lines of the cracked glass radiated from where it penetrated the screen. The pen still sat in the hole it had made.
It was absolutely ruined. Shattered glass bits were on the table, and a few scattered onto the floor. He was lucky that couldn't have saved files on the screen alone. He couldn't lose his progress on his projects now.
He was still in shock, though. He slept in this room, for goodness sakes, and nothing ever got past his security, not without his tech alerting him. He should have known that someone entered his lab as soon as it happened.
Yet it was clear by the placement of the pen that this has happened intentionally. It wasn't a pure chance that it was at the angle it was, most likely to break the screen, and shoved in with force.
Something different had happened here. He was dealing more than just some intruder, and he knew it.
Somewhat frantic to think of an answer, Donnie looked to one of the other screens, turned his computer on, and opened his files, recovering a folder that constantly received video from the cameras around the room. Sure, old recordings were deleted after a week if not purposely saved, but this must have happened yesterday.
That was the problem. Everything that had been filmed yesterday had been erased from his files. There was simply nothing labeled with the date, even though today's recordings still remained in the folder. His cameras weren't broken, someone had to have hacked his computer and purposefully remove the videos.
Whoever had broken in here was a straight genius, then, because Donnie knew that he had the most secure three-step password system to even open his computer, and four more were required to get to this specific folder from his home screen. The passwords weren't even numbers and there was no way a hacking program could have done it.
Thus, the hacker had come into this very room when this had happened, without alerting security systems, without waking anyone up, and without leaving a visible trace. He was against someone with a mind as sharp as his own, it seemed.
There had to be more, right? Donnie flipped his goggles over his eyes and looked for DNA evidence left on the pen. All of it matched his own...?
He flipped his body around and scanned his eyes around the floor. He was the only one who had been in here for days. There was no biological footprint of the intruder.
Everything else was still in place as well. The only thing that had moved since he was last in here was the pen and the glass that was supposed to be in his monitor.
A certain fear chilled Donnie. He had rarely ever even fought someone as smart as him (not counting Draxum because his specialties lied in chemistry), and no one had technology like his own work. He couldn't possibly predict what to prepare for, not that he had time to.
It seemed that the attacker was after him and was showing off their skills. As much as he didn't want to be or appear to be intimidated, he knew he was scared by it. What was he supposed to do, get his brothers involved? If he couldn't solve the problem himself, how could those dumb dumbs help?
Just more to add to the frustration he had been feeling this week, even though he didn't feel mad at the moment because of his drowsiness.
It was only eight in the morning and his plans were thrown out the window. Gosh, he was going to need more than coffee to deal with this.
Donnie flicked his goggles back onto the top of his head and walked out of the lab. He walked quickly to the kitchen, taking a seat at the table with contemplative frown.
On the other side of the table sat Leo, and Mikey stood facing the stove, likely cooking breakfast. It seemed they had been having a conversation, but it had since halted when he entered.
Donnie stared at the cup of coffee in Leo's hand, paying no attention to the turtle himself. Even if he was too tired to actually be mad at him, he had to act the part until he would apologize, which he hoped was soon.
Luckily for him, it seemed that he had at least taken the hint, because he also looked to his coffee, a somewhat sullen look on his face.
Neither of them took effort to exchange greetings.
The tension was distracted when Mikey walked around the table with another cup in his hand, setting it in front of Donnie with a bright smile.
"Morning, Dee!" he said with his usual cheer. Donnie smiled a bit, thankful for the gifted drink.
"Morning, Angelo," he simply replied, glancing to his brother as he took the cup of coffee into his hand.
A silence followed as Mikey seemed to wait to him to give the same acknowledgment to Leo. A good part of a minute passed before Leo sighed and looked up from his own cup, the stillness of the room fleeing.
"Don..." he said, almost a bit quietly. Donnie's eyes moved sharply to meet his brother's, and the latter suddenly hesitated with a silent wince, looking more uncertain about whatever he was going to say. "...hey."
Oh, so he wasn't mature enough to just apologize already.
Donnie tilted his head up and shifted his expression into a glare, standing up and setting down his cup, still half full. Without a sound, he walked to the cabinet and got himself three pills of the desired ibuprofen, if only not branded with the Advil label.
He really wished that he reprogram his brother's mind right now, feeling a bit guilty for distancing himself. He was well aware that it felt terrible to Leo that he would act like this; the patterns of his behavior told him so. He just needed to give up so that both of them could resolve.
He decided to linger in the room instead of leaving, starting a mental timer to give his brother time to apologize. He got back in his seat and swallowed all three pills with another drink of his cup.
Mikey kept his back turned to the two, visibly trying to stay out of their problem so that they could sort it out themselves. Donnie started to wonder if he was actually cooking something or just staring at a pan on the fire. He couldn't see to judge.
Then, Donnie watched the clock on the wall and noted that the second minute had already passed. Leo hadn't moved at all.
And then, he swallowed. "600 milligrams is a lot. Did ya' get hurt or something?" The question had a lot less energy than the slider usually carried in his words. It was as if he lost his craftsmanship for communication.
Yet still, Donnie held to his desire to get remorse and refused to respond. They took sips of their drinks at the same time to fill the space where the response could have been.
Three minutes, gone.
"Is it your wrist?" he asked with a shallow, sympathetic smile, "I haven't seen you use it."
His wrist did hurt. He fell with his whole weight on it in the fight and was honestly surprised it hadn't shattered. It had at least been bent farther than it should have, even if it was flexible, and he wondered if he ripped some small muscle in there.
He sure as hell wished he could say yes. He wished he could have Leo look at it and give him his satisfaction-guaranteed answer for his pain.
He could work with one hand for a few days. It wasn't that bad.
He wondered if Leo knew that it was bothering him, even if he refused to respond. He wondered if Leo would still try and help him if he did.
Could Donnie even accept the help? Would that be surrendering?
They took another drink.
Donnie watched as Mikey gave Leo a look, at last catching on to the game they were playing. Dr. Feelings obviously suggested, nonverbally, that Donnie was in the right, not that he needed the ego boost.
And Leo sunk into his chair a little, pierced by two gazes instead of one.
Six minutes had passed now, racking Donnie's head either questions as his brother's face changed with every emotion that passed by him. He couldn't tell if he was mad about this, or sorry, or just sad (he didn't need to tell for that one; Leo was definitely sad).
Did he want to apologize? Did he not know what to say?
...Did he not know the exact words Donnie wanted to hear and therefore held back, unable to tell him what was expected?
He wondered for a moment if he was the childish one, holding a grudge he wasn't even mad about, having gotten over it overnight. If he was still mad, the coffee hadn't kicked in yet.
By ten minutes, neither of them had coffee in their mugs, and Mikey revealed that he had been cooking on the stove after all, serving a plate of scrambled eggs for himself and leaving extras if either of them wanted some.
Donnie wasn't hungry yet. He'd eat in an hour. Leo, on the other hand, got up from the table swiftly after he recognized there was some for him and tore his sight away from Donnie as fast as he could. When he did have the eggs, he ate them slowly, as if he didn't want them at all.
At twenty minutes, Donnie decided the timer was up. He had a lab to clean after all, and the fact that the ibuprofen he took wouldn't kick in for another twenty minutes had his patience wasted.
He pushed his chair in as he stood and dropped his cup in the sink as he walked by. It wasn't lost to him how closely Leo watched him as he left.
And then, to his surprise, "Wait, Don-"
He stopped completely, turning around to face his brother with a curious look.
"Come to me if your wrist bothers you too much."
Donnie didn't respond and turned around again, set to his course on leaving.
"Please?"