Chapter Text
There was water on Donatello’s face.
No, not water. Tears. Composed of water, yes, but also sodium and potassium and lysozyme and lipids. Tears existed to protect the eyes. There was nothing in this moment that Donnie's eyes needed protecting from, but still his vision blurred, obscuring his view of the explosion in the sky and the space where his brother– his twin– used to be.
Oh. Maybe that was what the tears were protecting him from; the reality in which he didn't have a twin.
It didn't make sense though. Not the useless tears, not the explosion lighting the sky, not the fact that his only twin had thrown himself into the prison dimension without a second thought. Donnie lifted a hand to his face, and the tears clung to his fingers before falling to the ground.
Raph and Mikey stood in front of him, arguing in loud tones that didn’t make it past the ringing in his ears. That was odd. He felt just as disconnected from his own body as he did from his twin. Like that snap when the portal closed had severed more than the made-up link between them. It had severed Donnie’s very being, cutting his theoretical soul in half. The tears kept falling.
It didn't make sense.
He watched as Mikey raised his arms in front of him, the so-called "mystic hands" he had been doing all day. He watched as Mikey grit his teeth and cried and as Raph stumbled to their youngest brother’s side. Donatello knew that he should join them. He knew that as small and implausible the chances were of his brother’s ninpo working after the battle they had fought, he should at least try to help. It was what a good brother would do. It was what Leo would do. But Donnie remained frozen. All he could do was watch and watch and watch, as nothing happened. There was an almost-flicker of orange light in front of Mikey's hands, a twitch of his fingers and a pained grimace on his face, but nothing more. Donnie could feel the strain of Mikey's ninpo, trying to pull from power that he didn't have. It wouldn't work. Donnie already knew it wouldn't. They were so desperate to get Leo back, and still they fell just short of making it.
Anguish radiated from his two remaining brothers, echoing in Mikey’s sobs and in Raph’s falling tears. Mikey fell to his knees in their oldest brother’s arms like it was the only safe place left in the world. Maybe it was. Raph met Donnie’s eyes and opened an arm in invitation. Donnie just shook his head.
He didn't need comfort; he needed his twin back.
There was a scuffling sound behind them and Donnie spun around. For a moment he had hoped– foolishly, stupidly so– that somehow all of his agonizing and pleading had brought Leo back. But no. The rest of their family- Splinter, April, and now Casey- slowly made their way through the wreckage of Staten Island toward the turtles. Already, he could see the tears falling down April's cheeks. Distantly, Donatello realized that he had never seen her cry before. He had seen her sad, yes, but never crying. Then again, he supposed she had never lost a brother before either. His heart clenched uncomfortably in his chest before he forced his attention onto Casey instead, his eyes immediately falling to the items clenched in his hands.
Leo's katana. The key.
All of Donnie's incomprehensible– inconvenient– emotions suddenly sharpened as his hands clenched into fists and he stepped toward the human.
"Those aren't yours."
"Donnie..." Raph's voice was strained. Donnie didn't give any sign that he had heard the snapper's plea. As far as he was concerned, this was entirely Casey's fault. Donatello didn’t know what Casey had said to Leo while they were separated, but he did know that he had gotten into Leo’s stupidly impressionable head. He knew that if Casey hadn’t said whatever it was he’d said, Leo would still be here. The world would still be ending, yes, but Leo would be here and they could fix it together. Now, Donnie’s world was ending regardless. And he still had the audacity to be carrying Leo's sword.
"Those. Are. Not. Yours."
Finally, Casey blinked up at him and numbly handed over the two items. Donnie snatched them into his hands as if they were on the verge of disappearing and clutched them close to his chest. April stepped closer, arms open to offer a hug, but Donnie shook his head again and backed away. The startled sorrow that immediately crumpled across her face tugged at his heart, but Donnie just gripped the sword and key tighter. He didn’t need a hug. He didn’t want a hug. He didn’t want anything if it wasn’t his twin.
Concern rippled through the family and they all met each other’s eyes. All except for Donnie, standing in the center of their circle. The fractured nucleus of the Hamato family. A neutron without its proton, collapsing on itself while the electrons could do nothing but watch.
"..nie? Donnie, you need to breathe."
He shook his head weakly and spat out three damning words: "You're giving up.”
"What?"
"You're giving up on him."
The accusation stilled their approach because they knew it as well as he did. Even if they didn’t want to realize it. Experience was infallible and history– especially theirs– was a cycle more predictable than the water cycle. His family fought like hell when they knew they had a chance, but when the risks outweighed the chances of success, when the bad outnumbered the good, they caved. Donnie couldn’t cave. Not when Leo was counting on him to get him back.
With one last knife-sharp glare at his brothers, Donatello manifested a ninpo hovershell over his bruised shell and lifted off. They pleaded for him to wait, to think this through, but he just looked down at the sword in his hand and flew out of their reach.
He would get Leo back, whatever it took.