Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧
𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥;
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥,
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧.

𝘐𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘭𝘥? 𝘕𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸
𝘐𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯.

– 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘓𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯

21:00𝘗𝘔, 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘠𝘰𝘳𝘬.

Rain. All that filled Donnie's ears was 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯.

A loud, incessant hissing mingled with the crashing of lightning and the growling of thunder. The natural world had turned against him, deciding that right now was the perfect time to cloak the noises he needed to listen out for. He was being chased, stalked – and he couldn't hear the footfalls behind him all thanks to this stupid storm. He didn't know how close they were.

That only gave him more adrenaline though – Donnie just imagined a bony, clawed hand reaching out and inches away from his shell – and that was enough to make his legs move quicker despite how badly they burned.

His eyes darted to either side of the street, desperately looking out for a telephone booth. He needed to make a call, so he wouldn't be stopping until he saw one.

Donnie skidded to a halt, the soles of his feet scraping against the asphalt as soon as he laid eyes upon the grey phone booth.

He unsheathed his bō, the wood wobbling with how fast he had swung it out from behind him. Donnie whirled around in all directions, breathing heavily, but all he saw were deserted, cracked sidewalks being assaulted with rain accompanied by towering apartment buildings.

They were…

Gone?

He stood isolated in the middle of the road, streams of rainwater rushing past his feet and gurgling down stormdrains.

Donnie hesitantly lowered his bō, letting his guard down the tiniest bit the longer he stood there and the longer nothing happened. He moved toward the telephone booth: a shining beacon of hope.

Donnie collapsed into the tiny shelter, leaning against the side of it. He smushed his face against the glass, panting as a shiver rattled him. He was so cold.

Donnie slid down until he was sat, hugging his knees to his chest. He tried to rein in control over his shaking breaths, each one coming out as a visible puff.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

Well, he had his weapon – so he could still fight should danger come back. He had this phone right next to him so he could make that call, and he finally had a break from the rain.

Listing all these things in his head was an attempt to make himself feel hopeful. He liked lists, and anything organized and neat, really. Logic, in most situations, would have calmed him down – but even though things seemed to be looking up a bit – he still felt despaired.

Donnie sat there for maybe ten minutes, staring at his reflection in the glass across from him. His body was limp, his eyes were snapped open wide, and his olive green skin was a few tones paler than it should've been.

He dragged a hand down his face before untying his sodden mask and wringing it out, water dribbling down his wrists.

Donnie's brain screamed at him as he remained still; he knew it was the wrong thing to do. If Master Splinter could see him right now, his father would question what he was doing taking a leisurely break when danger might still be around.

He tied his mask back on, now determined not to stay here any longer than he had to.

He wouldn't disappoint his father and disregard his teachings on survival by just sitting here and sulking.

He stood.

Donnie dug around in his belt and pulled his hand back out, staring at the few loose coins and balls of lint he had retrieved.

Unlike most people, he and his brothers didn't have any legal way of obtaining money, but 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 most people, his brothers and himself considered stumbling across money someone had accidentally dropped and left behind as a bit of good luck. They'd pocket loose change and the occasional, rare dollar, which they'd all scramble and fight for like piranhas in a feeding frenzy.

They didn't have any need for it obviously, they couldn't waltz into stores and use their aforementioned money, but over the years it had turned into some kind of odd, stupid competition between them. A competition as to who could have the biggest stash of cash.

Donnie slipped a coin into the slot and punched in the telephone number. He took the phone off of its hold, placing it to his ear.

He listened to it ring, the never-ending sound surely a form of cruel torture. His heart painfully thumped with panic as it went on and on and still wasn't being picked up.

Donnie shot a look over his shoulder, squinting out into the dark night. He tore his eyes away from it soon enough. It only made his anxiety build.

“Please, Sensei, pick up the phone! Where are you?” He hissed.

‘𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦–’

Donnie let out a yell before the monotonous female voice could finish, slamming the phone back. That plain, put-together voice enraged him, because it did not at all match the very dire situation he was in.

Obviously he didn't expect an automated message to suddenly shriek at him down the phone, high and wailing and scared – he just didn't want to sit in his dangerously bubbling panic alone. He wanted someone else to be scared with him.

The machine spat his coin back out at him.

He shoved it back in and took the phone again.

This time, after not only a few chimes, the phone would be picked up.

“Moshi moshi?” A curious voice spoke.

Donnie melted at the voice, almost feeling the caring warmth radiating through the phone. Suddenly he didn't feel so alone anymore.

“Papa! I mean – Sensei!” He blurted out, voice wet with emotion.

“Donatello? What is it, my son? Are you alright?”

Donnie had to hold in a bark of laughter at the question – 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? – he was so far from it that being asked that was like a hilarious joke.

“I, uh… it's too much to explain right now, Sensei. Just tell the guys they need to get down to Bleecker Street, the abandoned Kraang facility – they'll know which one I'm talking about. We emptied it out ages ago, basically swept the place clean of any useful equipment, I don't know why–”

…

“You don't know what, Donatello?”

“Donatello?”

“𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰?” His name again. Firmer this time.

He was trying to convince himself his brain was just playing tricks on him, but there was no denying it. Finally, a sound had cut through the rain: the throaty, crackling growl of a canine.

Donnie came to the horrifying realization that they, 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 of them, had never truly left at all.

They let him sit there, they let him make that phone call. And for what? Did they find it funny to see the relief on his face, knowing they'd come back at the right moment and tear it all apart?

He slowly turned his head to the side, and through the sheets of water cascading down the glass of the booth, Donnie looked into the bright, yellow, reflective eyes on the other side. Shining like coins.

The line went dead.

Donnie screamed as the glass crashed inward, shards raining down upon him in a gush of glittering fragments. He flailed uselessly like a fish caught on a hook as a hand roughly grabbed him by the waist and pulled him up from where he stood.

“Let me go!” He yelled, his fists falling down repeatedly on their arm.

“Stop that!” Rahzar growled, putting their face right up in his, “Continue and I'll bite your hand clean off.”

Donnie gasped and jerked his hand away as Rahzar snipped the air inches from his fingers, teeth clicking together. He shuddered at the noise.

Rahzar threw his head back in cackling laughter. Xever let out a chuckle from beside him.

“Scared are we, tartaruga?

Donnie's face flushed and his beak remained tightly shut.

“Hmm,” Xever mused, grinning, “No denial. He is scared.”

“You idiots just wasted your time!” He spat out, “That Kraang facility you were eyeing up is empty! There is nothing, nada, zilch! My brothers and I cleared it out months ago, so I'm afraid whatever tin grin is looking for is probably gone. Sorry…mission failed.” Donnie said sarcastically with mock sympathy.

The two mutants went silent, sharing a sly look. Their grins seemingly grew wider. Rahzar looked at him again.

“Trust us, Master Shredder would never have us go looking for things that aren't promised. What he needs is in there, alright. I guess you and your brothers didn't clear it out good enough. And I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” Rahzar tilted his head curiously at Donnie, as if he were a malfunctioning appliance not doing what it was supposed to.

Donnie's eyes widened and his mouth fell open, but he had no response. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦?

He had accidentally left his T-Phone in the Lair before going out so he had needed to find a payphone, he was foolish enough to let his guard down, and now he just found out that something Shredder wanted was still lying around waiting to be taken inside the Kraang facility on Bleecker.

Rahzar was right. He 𝘸𝘢𝘴 an idiot. But he obviously wouldn't let his enemy know that he agreed, instead he changed the subject.

“But – but 𝘸𝘩𝘺?” He wheezed, “If you were around when I made the call, then you know I called for help. Why didn't you immediately turn around and head back to the facility to try and get there before my brothers did? They're closer to Bleecker right now than we are – by the time we get back there, they'll be guarding it! You just gave yourselves more work!”

“The place is swarming with Foot Bots. They can have their fun with those until we get back.” Rahzar said.

“Besides, your irmãos being present works in our favour. You're going to make this whole thing run a lot smoother.” Xever looked into his eyes.

Donnie let out a squeak as Xever plucked his bō from the wrappings on his shell, turning it in his hands before throwing it away like it was careless. It clattered onto the road.

They ducked into a trash-strewn alley right when a taxi drove by on the street, headlights breaking through the gloom of the night and windshield wipers in a never-ending battle with the torrential weather. He sighed.

𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘵'𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵 – his mind added on as the rain pelted against his skin so hard it was almost painful.

Rahzar scaled the fire escape in a few huge leaps, with Donnie's head being painfully thrown backwards at the surge. Of course they wouldn't have any regard for if he got whiplash.

He huffed in defeat, watching the world go by in a blur of concrete grey as he was carried back in the direction of Bleecker.

Donnie felt like he was stuck between places, like he was in a town that nobody had ever lived in at all. Sure, there was the obvious fact of nobody really being around at night, but even more so the storm seemed to have sucked all the smells of life out of the air like a vacuum.

Petrichor covered up any remaining scent traces of greasy hotdogs from street vendors or the sharp smell of gasoline from cars and trucks and what have you jamming up all the roads.

Donnie inhaled deeply, trying to take in any remains of the bustling day into himself. Maybe he wouldn't feel alone then.

But he couldn't.

The rain drenched his face and mask again, allowing Donnie the security to start crying. It was more a cry out of anger if anything, rather than sadness. He wasn't 𝘴𝘢𝘥 – he was angry he had been so stupid tonight, angry he was so naive (because really, in what world do people chasing you suddenly decide to leave you alone?) angry that he hadn't been strong enough.

He and his brothers rarely ever allowed themselves the liberty to cry, let alone in front of enemies. No, never in front of enemies. But this time he couldn't help it, the two wouldn't be able to distinguish tears from raindrops anyway, nor would they be able to hear his choked sobs over the deafening thunder and lightning.

"𝘜𝘨𝘩!"

A particularly harsh blow of wind whacked his mask tails over his face, sticking to his skin with how soaked they were and obscuring his vision like a blindfold. Great. Just great. Did the universe see him as a source of entertainment? Because it felt like simply... well, everything, was not going his way tonight. He couldn't even use his hands right now to move it from his eyes.

With no way to see how close they were to approaching Bleecker, Donnie had to wait in his simmering, blind anger. When Rahzar started to slow down, not moving so fast, that's when he knew they had arrived.

Rahzar reached a razor-sharp claw down, with it grazing slightly against Donnie's skin, to peel his mask away from his eyes. Donnie blinked. The Kraang facility was now in sight on the street below.

“We're here,” Rahzar growled softly next to his ear. He bit back a sarcastic ‘I can see that’, knowing it'd do him no favours.

Rahzar leapt down. Donnie's stomach lurched at the nauseating drop.

He managed to twist his head around, just enough to see Xever descend the fire escape with a salty expression.

He guessed the mutant had to take the long way down because crashing onto concrete wasn't very stealthy when you had metal legs. If he wasn't in the alarming situation he was currently stuck in, maybe he would've been able to find it in himself to laugh.

“Finally,” Rahzar grumbled in exasperation when Xever eventually joined them at the bottom.

“What did you say?”

“Nothin’.” Rahzar gave a toothy grin, pushing open the back door to the facility.

He let out a contemplative hum, as if judging the size of the doorway before trying to squeeze in. Donnie listened to Rahzar's struggling grunts and Xever's howls of laughter from outside, greatly entertained by the sight. The two never passed up on laughing cruelly at the other's expense.

Rahzar somehow managed to fit himself inside, then beckoned Xever to follow through.

Donnie took in a huge breath, but Rahzar was quick to clamp a hand over his mouth. He rolled his eyes. 𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

They stood in a corridor that was shrouded in shadows and seemed to almost disproportionately stretch on and on, either side lined with doors.

There was always just 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 about Kraang buildings that made it a gut-churning experience to enter. A lot of the time the buildings were mazes. Plain, nonsense mazes that left you oh so terribly exposed.

Donnie remembered the first time he and his brothers had entered a Kraang facility to try and save April and her father. The place was a labyrinth of cold, metallic, interconnecting hallways that all looked the exact same. There was virtually nothing to hide behind if something was approaching, which made every turn they had to make a nerve-wracking, breath-holding moment that had about the same amount of suspense as a chillingly quiet moment in a horror movie that comes after all the violent and eerie strings of music.

If you did want to hide, your only option was to crunch yourself into the ceiling above, spread out like a starfish with your palms and feet pressed against points of the ceiling to keep you up. You just had to pray one of the aliens below didn't decide to lift their head, or hope that you'd been working out enough recently to hold yourself for long enough and not fall.

There were also never any labels or signs on doors indicating where to go.

Each door on either side of this corridor had a plain front, nothing to tell you what might be behind them at all. It looked like the doors had just been copied and pasted one after the other.

The smell was one of the worse aspects. It smelled sterile, like what a hospital would smell like times ten. The scent felt like it had been stuffed directly and unapologetically up your nose. But obviously it wouldn't be a normal hospital, it'd be a nightmare hospital, with aliens instead of doctors prodding and poking at you with tools. Not because they care, because they'd much rather be slicing you open and analyzing your insides, not stopping no matter how loudly you shrieked in agony.

But possibly the most dangerous thing about Kraang buildings, is that while they were scary and disorientating in the ways he had just described, they were devastatingly enticing at the same time. When the mind doesn't understand something, it 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 to, and you do that by exploration. Going deeper to search for your answers.

That's when you get lost.

No doubt that anyone could get easily dizzied in a place like that, wandering aimlessly while any sense of time slipped your mind.

“We start checking each room,” Rahzar hushed, “Let me know if you find what Shredder is looking for.”

“Yes, Yes,” Xever waved a hand dismissively, desperate to get away from his partner that he was always forcibly paired up with.

Donnie was dragged from room to room with Rahzar. Things were overturned, ripped open, tossed out of the way if they were usless. Thick plumes of dust kept getting coughed up right into Donnie's face at every movement, it had been a while since any living thing used this place.

He felt the little particles settle in his nostrils, itching them. And he felt them creep into his throat, scratching it with an uncomfortable burn.

He hardly paid any mind to it, too focused on scanning the rooms with his eyes for anything that looked important himself. Because he couldn't, or simply didn't want to – believe that he and his brothers missed something. They had spent probably more than two hours sifting through just about every inch, every nook and cranny of this place.

But with each room searched, each time winding up with nothing being found, Donnie started to gain a fragment of hope.

Maybe he had been right after all, and they had been wrong. Maybe, just this once, Shredder 𝘩𝘢𝘥 sent them to look for something that wasn't promised. Maybe he and his brothers had removed the thing they were seeking.

The two came to a standstill after searching for who knows how long, standing in the hallway and staring at each other blankly with hands still empty, a silent ‘what do we do now’?

“...Have you found it yet?” Rahzar asked.

“Have 𝘐 found it? Idiota, I cannot see in the dark like you can!” Xever snarled.

“Oh yeah, it must suck to be you. You have got to be one of the most useless mutants, Flounder.” Rahzar chuckled at his own insult.

Xever hissed quietly before going silent. “Actually,” Donnie could hear the smile in his voice, “Good for me, bad for you. You're the one with the trait to effectively find this thing, we go back to Shredder empty-handed – the blame is mostly on you, cachorro.”

For a moment no one made any noise at all, but then Donnie heard what he thought was the tiniest, frightened whimper from Rahzar.

“Whatever,” The mutant bit out, “Let's just keep searching. It's got to be here somewhere.”

“We could always search down that way.” Xever pointed straight ahead. What laid at the end of the corridor was the only lit up area of the facility, where the corridor opened up to a large, warehouse-like space.

Rahzar had hardly taken a step forward when something fell with a thud, lying in a mangled lump at the end of the hallway. The light shining on it revealed its shape to be that of a human body.

Everyone tensed considering how disfigured it seemed to be, when suddenly sparks whizzed wildly from its head.

Rahzar sighed, “Just a dumb Foot Bot. C'mon.”

Donnie's shoulders slumped in his own relief. He didn't want to think about a real human’s body contorted in the way that Foot Bot had been.

They continued onwards until they stopped at the very edge of the darkness. Donnie could see his brothers from here, eyes blank white and their weapons bashing the heads of the last robots into a mess of mangled machinery. He wanted to run to them – he ached, he felt tired, and he was cold.

He just wanted them to finally take him home.

Depending on how these next few minutes played out, he didn't know if he would ever make it back home at all.

Xever gasped in excitement.

“There it is!” He whispered.

Donnie winced at the words he had been dreading to hear.

He followed Xever's gaze to see what they had come for, and it was a… desk? Donnie recognised it, actually. He and his brothers had, in fact, seen that thing and walked right past it the last time they had come here.

But surely this couldn't be what Shredder was so desperate for? Even though his brothers told him to not even bother checking the desk at the time because, well, ‘it was just a desk’, he had insisted and said that no stone should be left unturned. They couldn't risk leaving behind anything the Kraang intended on using.

The desk was an odd-looking thing. Most desks have legs and space underneath, but this one wasn't like that. It was a solid rectangle of pure metal with some drawers built in. Donnie had looked over the surface and there were no computers or devices. He had also thoroughly checked through all the drawers – nothing of use.

So just what exactly did Shredder know about this thing that they didn't?

“We'll have to be quick about this. The lights, and the turtle's brothers…” Rahzar said.

Donnie felt something warm sputter from his face.

Rahzar's claws were digging into his cheek.

His eyes widened, tears pricking at them. It was another, more painful warning to be quiet.

Rahzar dragged his claws along from his cheek to around his mouth. He swatted Rahzar's hand in a panic, shaking his head. He didn't want his face torn up.

The mutant relented and he sighed in relief. His tongue flicked at the blood soaking the left side of his face.

Xever slapped Rahzar's arm in a silent ‘go’.

Rahzar leaped out of the darkness, bounding across the space and holding Donnie close.

Mikey turned his head away from a Foot Bot whose hands were grasping for his face, gaping as he spotted the villain. He saw Xever peering from the hallway, too.

“Dudes! Rahzar and Fishface!” He alerted his older brothers, “Wait – Donnie?!” He shouted in surprise, registering the sight of his older brother being dragged along.

Rahzar came to a stop, claws scraping on the floor with a screech that shredded Donnie's eardrums.

Rahzar lifted the desk with one hand and tucked it under his arm; a testament to how strong the mutagen had made him. His brothers stopped, robotic parts lying at their feet as they stared.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶.” Raph gritted out. His hands shook with how tight he was holding his sai, and he went to charge.

Rahzar held out Donnie for them to see clearly.

“Ah ah ah, you take another step, and your brother dies.”

A look of frozen horror crossed his brothers’ faces. Raph went stock still. They all held their breaths as if even that would be the wrong move and Rahzar would kill Donnie on the spot.

“We take this and your brother back to Shredder. You allow us to leave 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 attacking.” Rahzar said.

𝘞𝘰𝘸, 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘚𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.

“...Alright.” Leo reluctantly agreed to the rules, “We'll let you leave.”

Mikey gave a disbelieving look to Leo, mouth falling open to protest. Leo shook his head, silencing Mikey.

“You expect us to believe that? Drop your weapons.”

Leo sighed heavily, but his swords clattered to the ground. The clinking of Mikey's nunchucks and Raph's sai followed not long after.

“All of them.”

“That 𝘸𝘢𝘴 all of them.” Leo argued.

“I don't believe you.”

Rahzar shifted his grip from Donnie's torso to his neck. He let out a strangled wheeze, legs kicking uselessly at the air and slapping frantically at Rahzar's hand again, but this time Rahzar did not let up. In fact his grip seemingly grew tighter in frustration at his flailing.

“𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱!” Mikey cried. His legs shook, wanting to run and help his brother, but trying to help would cost Donnie his life.

Raph's teeth were grinding together so hard it was painful.

“I swear on my life, my swords were all I had on me.” Leo said earnestly, placing a hand over his heart, “Same goes for my brothers. Raph only has his sai, and Mikey his nunchucks.”

Leo's eyes drifted up to the ceiling where he saw a sizable hole, rain from the storm pouring inside. He looked back down to see that Rahzar's foot was lying in a very large puddle. There was also a fuse box on the wall behind him.

“... Is what I would say if I were a liar.” In the blink of an eye, Leo threw a shuriken.

Rahzar let out a whimper akin to a dog whose tail had been stood on, squeezing his eyes shut, but the shuriken whined harmlessly past him. Rahzar blinked, then growled furiously.

“That's it, now your brother dies!” Rahzar squeezed that final bit further.

Even as his vision started to turn grainy, every noise muffled and his lungs like two balloons about to burst – Donnie heard the crackling of electricity. At first there was only a tiny spark. One little, yellow, glowing spark that dwindled from the box with a quiet fizz – a dying firefly falling to the ground. It hit the water.

Then there was a loud pop, and more and more of these crackling, whining sparks poured out of the damaged fuse box like a waterfall of electricity, blanketing the puddle. Dark, grey smoke seeped out in wisps from around the shuriken lodged deep inside.

Rahzar's confused snarl, whipping his head around a second too late to realize what was happening was the last thing that reached Donnie before his world became blinding white pain and screaming. He couldn't tell if it was just him or others too, but it was so loud, so loud that it made his brain hurt.

This was it – he was going to die.

With a final spastic jerk, everything went dark.

────────

Leo winced against the blinding flash that followed that decision. With the shrieking, the lights, the hissing and cracking and 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, it was like they were being subjected to a horrific fireworks display gone wrong.

Silence followed. The calm after the storm, if you will.

Leo didn't know if the silence felt better or worse, noise meant life, after all.

He glanced at the hallway to see no one, Xever having seemingly up and split.That didn't come as a surprise to Leo, he expected no less from their type. Still, it disgusted him to see someone abandon someone else on the same team as they were.

“Leo, Leo 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, please, I beg you – can – can we go and get him?” Mikey sobbed around his words, chest heaving.

“Yes.” Leo breathed out, his voice sounding oddly detached despite how his heart hammered against his ribs, “But we can't touch his body. The water is still electrified and he's laying there. If we touch him, we'll just get a shock, too.”

“Okay,” Mikey sniffed, “So we… we drag him out with something else?”

“Correct,” He nodded in affirmation, placing a hand on his brother's shell, “Mikey, could you please get that broom over there?”

He pointed.

Mikey was gone from Leo's hold in a flash, pleased to have an order. He knew that was the best thing to ask of Mikey, the youngest always wanted to be useful, always wanted to do something, and it was better for his brain to have a task to focus on than to stare at an upsetting sight.

Leo turned his head to Raph who had checked out, eyes glassy and fists clenching and unclenching. Well, that was something, at the very least. Even when he felt like his whole world was tilting sideways, something familiar, something expected – remained. Everyone reacted the way they usually did.

Mikey was the most outwardly emotional and wanted to help, Raph's brain turned off to cope, and he would swallow his nerves momentarily while he tried to still be a leader even through his own fear.

He felt something be forced into his grip, looking down at the broom.

“Here,” Mikey said shakily, giving Leo a gentle nudge, “Go, go get Donnie.”

He smacked his dry mouth.

“Uh, right.”

Leo dragged his feet, unthinking, forward, gazing down at where his brother's limp form lay. He tried to keep the cool front he had at the beginning, and tried to keep his pace steady. Then his brain split in two.

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸? 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨!

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦? 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘳, 𝘓𝘦𝘰, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

…

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥?

𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥?

His breath caught.

𝘚𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥.

Leo let his expression drop.

His eyes widened.

He ran towards his brother, clenching the broom so hard it hurt his knuckles.

He fumbled with the broom with such eagerness, hooking the handle underneath the strap that went over Donnie's plastron and dragging him out of the puddle.

“Oh, Donnie,” He collapsed on his knees next to his brother. Donnie's fingers twitched rapidly, but that didn't necessarily mean he was alive, electrical current would cause even a dead body's muscles to contract.

That thought terrified Leo, to have no life in you, yet something still puppeteered you as though you were, your autonomy at the whims of the strings of electricity.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.

𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘓𝘦𝘰.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵.

With bated breath Leo put two fingers to Donnie's neck, feeling for a pulse. Leo channeled all his hope into that gentle press against skin, as if maybe somehow, he could pass on his own life through touch and into Donnie.

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵.

…

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.

And he felt something.

He happily allowed the waterworks to pour from his eyes, laying his head down onto Donnie's plastron. A wry smile was on his face as his brother's chest weakly rose and fell beneath him. The smells assaulting his senses this close up were awful, but he'd rather bask in it all day than leave Donnie's side at this moment.

The metallic smell of blood, smoke, and the most prominent being that of cooked skin from his brother, as well as singed fur from Rahzar.

Mikey and Raph were soon behind him at the positive outcome, peering worriedly over Leo's shell at Donnie. Raph looked a little more alive now that there was hope, but his complexion was no less pale.

Leo rose to his feet, and Mikey looked into Leo's eyes before jerking his head at Rahzar, who was still crumpled in the water and convulsing slightly. That look asked a question.

‘𝘚𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢…?’

Leo looked at Rahzar himself and to the broom that lay at his feet. They were heroes, weren't they? Always merciful, even to those who didn't deserve it a lot of the time. When Rahzar was still a human, they couldn't even bring themselves to toss him off a roof, even though he and Xever had put Murakami's life on the line.

Though as Leo looked at the state his brother was in, he realised that this time – he didn't want to extend help.

In silence, Leo wrapped his arms around Donnie's torso. Taking the initiative, Mikey took Donnie's legs, and together they hoisted him off of the ground.

Mikey, nor Raph, said a word of objection about leaving Rahzar.

“Raph, Mikey, we still need to take that desk back with us. If Shredder's crew had their sights set on it, it's not something that can be left lying around. Let's just get Donnie loaded into the Shellraiser first, then we'll come back for this.”

He looked at the desk.

They took Donnie outside, where the Shellraiser was parked and waiting. Mikey and Leo eased him down onto a seat, and Mikey grimaced, his eyes drifting over his brother and taking in the injuries.

Blood dribbled down Donnie's face, trickling down his neck before it would splatter in large blotches onto his plastron, it was also inevitable that some was ending up smeared against the leather of the car seat. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head and eyelids drooped, only leaving two tiny slivers of white to be seen.

It was a sorry sight to see, as Donnie had only given the Shellraiser a whole deep clean the day before. It being spotless didn't last very long.

Leo pulled out a medkit that they kept in a small case. It was very basic stuff in there, only meant to treat minor injuries and scrapes on the go, really. Still, there could be something of use.

He found a cloth and handed it to Raph.

"Here. Press that against Donnie's face."

"Uh – sure." Raph agreed in a daze, pressing it against the wound.

“I know there's a pulse, Leo,” Mikey said quietly, “But he still looks dead.”

Leo clenched his teeth; he wanted to say something about how comments like that weren't helping his nerves right now. He grabbed Mikey's shoulder, making his little brother face him.

“Well he isn't, okay? And as soon as we get that desk in here we're headed straight for home, and Master Splinter will know what to do.” It was more of a firm reassurance to himself if anything, disguised as words meant for Mikey.

He seemed to relax at the mention of their father, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Sensei, yeah… he'll make sure Donnie's okay.”

He sighed.

“Thanks, Leo.”

Leo patted his shoulder, “Of course. Now let's get that thing and go.”

Raph stayed with Donnie in the Shellraiser while his brothers went back for the desk. Donnie kept slumping forward, a dead weight, so Raph was right by his side to help keep him upright.

The cloth had almost immediately turned crimson red when it made contact with Donnie's injury, soaked with liquid.

It was so terribly vile, if Raph clenched his hand even a little bit harder, blood would ooze out of the cloth like water in a sponge, drenching his hands and wrists in large streams that were punctuated disgustingly with little, frothy, bloody bubbles.

He had always had the weakest stomach out of his brothers, so bile threatened to rise at the smells clogging the inside of the Shellraiser – but he managed to keep it down. To whine and hurl at some grossness compared to what Donnie himself was going through felt pathetic.

Leo and Mikey ambled back through the dark hall, pushing through the thick silence. Mikey somehow hated it more than when they had all arrived to the cacophony of robotic chittering. At least when there's noise, you know there's a battle to be had, the possibility of coming out victorious still hangs there. When there's no noise at all – the battle is over, and you know that however it turned out, you can't go back and change the outcome.

Sometimes he hated when the battle was over.

They entered the warehouse for the second time that night, welcomed now by the piles of scrambled bodies and mechanical parts on the floor.

Rahzar was still laying there. Of course he was.

Mikey stopped in his tracks, staring quietly at the body. Usually they only saw their enemies wide awake and alert, poised to kill – eyes narrowed and burning with hatred and most of the time they'd be snarling. Tonight he saw Rahzar in a different light, curled up in pain and quiet and abandoned.

He really did want to care. He wanted to feel something.

But he just didn't.

𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?

The opportunity to help Rahzar was right there in front of his face again, and he didn't feel like taking it.

“Mikey?”

…

“Michael.”

A firm tap on his shoulder. Mikey jumped out of it, shaking his head. Leo was at his side.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said c'mon. You're zoning out and we need to be quick.” Leo looked a bit ticked off, turning to make his way over to the desk.

“Right.”

The desk was a decent way away from Rahzar and the puddle now, lying on its side. When Rahzar was shocked his arm jerked out and the thing had gone flying. It had hit the ground with such force that Mikey was pretty sure he felt the vibration go through him.

Mikey joined his brother. Together, they pushed it back upright, like helping an animal that had been stuck on its back. Mikey and Leo both placed their palms against the side, planting their feet firmly as they began to try and push. It slowly scraped across the ground. He grunted, feeling his muscles start to pull at the strain.

Not even after a few seconds of pushing he was forced to pull away, shaking his arms in an attempt to regain some feeling in them before placing them back.

“𝘜𝘨𝘩 – if only Raph was here as well – he's the strongest one out of all of us!”

“Stop complaining and keep pushing!” Leo gave a harsh nudge to the desk, and it scooted a decent way forward.

Mikey let out a long whine in response.

It was a struggle for the two to wrangle the desk out of the facility. It took them a lot longer than they would've liked, but eventually they were cramming the thing into the back of the Shellraiser, the desk grazing slightly against the doors and scuffing Donnie's paint job a bit.

Leo turned on the ignition, beginning the messy drive home. They had wasted enough time trying to move that stupid thing.

Mikey sat idle in his seat, they knew the way home by heart, so his usual role on board as navigator meant nothing right now. He bit his tongue nervously, something plaguing him.

"Leo?" He called tentatively.

"What, Mikey?" Leo's voice was tense. He knew Leo wasn't mad at him, just stressed, but the tone made his head dip a little lower into the comfort of his shell. Leo sounded like a parent who was starting to get annoyed with their child's questions.

"Are we gonna tell Sensei when we get home?"

"Tell Sensei what?"

"That we left Rahzar there?"

...

Leo gripped the steering wheel harder, sharply turning a corner.

"Maybe." Leo grunted.

Mikey waited, expecting, well – more so hoping – for a longer response.

But it never came.

Maybe. Okay.

Maybe they were going to tell Sensei they possibly left someone for dead tonight.

────────

Leo slammed on the brakes so hard as soon as the Lair came into view that everyone almost went flying forward, Raph having to hold down Donnie at the harsh jerk.

“𝘓𝘦𝘰!” Raph barked, “Be careful!”

“Sorry!” He rubbed the back of his neck, opening up the doors with the press of a button. Once again Donnie was lifted up and out, and they pushed through the turnstiles.

Usually at 1AM the Lair was dead, they'd all be out patrolling the city, and for once there'd be no television blaring or pinballs clacking or the sounds of explosions from Donnie's lab, but instead the almost unsettling hum-buzz of lights and the drip, drip, drip of water.

Tonight they were back earlier than usual, and the noise of the Lair returned in full force.

“𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘪!”

“𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳!”

“𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘱!”

Even though there were only three of them, the clamour they made for attention sounded like a crowd, their overlapping shouts bouncing off of the walls. Splinter came hurrying out, his ears perked right up in high alert.

“My sons! What is–”

He stopped, his ears instantly drooping at the sight. He pointed a shaky finger.

“Is he…?”

“No, Sensei. He's alive.” Leo assured.

Feeling relief, Splinter soon collected himself. They didn't have time to waste.

“Bring him to the dojo, quickly.”

They did as they were instructed, moving with haste up the few steps and into the dojo. Splinter laid out a futon, taking Donnie off of his brother's hands and setting him down onto the soft material.

Mikey and Leo knelt on either side of Donnie, simply keeping an eye on their brother as if they were to look away, then he really would die. Leo watched Donnie's expression relax, his body recognising the comfort of the futon even though he wasn't awake.

“You'll be alright, Donnie,” Leo said, without really knowing why. He wasn't sure why he spoke if Donnie wasn't even conscious to hear, but Leo hoped that even while unconscious, he was somehow getting the message.

Raph hovered in the entrance, a hand rested on the shoji. He huffed, his fingers sliding away as he turned from the dojo.

Leo looked up, noticing Raph was missing. His beak scrunched in concern.

Raph rambled and raved under his breath while he walked, cold sweat covering him. He cursed, this painful feeling of anxiety seeming to come in waves. It frustrated him, one moment he'd be present and calm, the next his brain was threatening to turn off again.

𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨.

He blinked hard several times until spots were in his vision.

𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘺.

He wiped away any gathering tears that dared to fall.

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘚𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺.

𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

He curled his hands into fists, forcefully trying to stop his trembling.

Raph climbed into the Shellraiser, fixing his grip on the desk. Okay, so maybe he didn't want to be around the blood and foul-smelling burns, but that didn't mean he couldn't make himself useful another way. Besides, having something to do could calm his nerves.

With a grunt, Raph began to try and push the damn thing, and it was like trying to move a boulder. He didn't really know what he expected, it was a solid rectangle of metal. His muscles struggled to make it budge.

𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘐 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴…

Persistent, he kept at it, turning his body to the side and pushing his shoulder and elbow against it. Letting out a groaning creak, it teetered out the doors of the Shellraiser until clanging loudly onto the ground.

“Aha!” Raph beamed triumphantly.

He hopped out, making his way over to the garage door to Donnie’s lab and opening it from the outside so he could push it in that way since he couldn't squeeze the desk through the turnstiles, and no way would he be able to lift it up and over.

Back in the dojo, Mikey returned after being asked by his father to retrieve their much bigger, usual medkit. A large improvement from what they had to work with in the Shellraiser.

Now they actually had things like medical dressings, the tools necessary for stitching, ointments, antiseptic wipes, and more fresh cloth.

Mikey didn't know whether to be angry or happy about it. They had more medical stuff in the Lair, which was good – but as much as hospitals have? They'd never have that. They'd never be able to get professional help no matter how much they needed it.

Yes, bigger than what they had to settle for on the drive home, but in the grand scheme of things, this ‘bigger’ medkit still felt tiny and inadequate. It wasn't fair.

He handed all of this to his father, sitting back down on the mats. The box was clicked open, Splinter unravelling some dressings first and foremost.

Mikey rested his head in the palm of his hand, watching them be wrapped round and round and round parts of Donnie in a seemingly never-ending loop. He frowned. It really hit him then just how much of Donnie had been burned. It felt like it was taking forever and his father had only covered the arms, there were still the legs to go, as well.

He wanted this whole ordeal to be over a lot quicker. He wanted to help his brother.

“Sensei, is there anything I can do?”

His father stopped, his hands pausing.

“There is.” He said hesitantly, “But only if you really want to, my son. Don't force yourself to. I know it's not an easy sight to be around.”

Mikey agreed with that wholeheartedly, which is exactly why he thought helping would be better for him. The whole sight of Donnie, looking at 𝘢𝘭𝘭 the injuries together as one big picture was awful, if he could focus on only one part of Donnie while blocking out everything else…

“I really want to.” He nodded.

“Very well, then.” Splinter pulled out some ointment, a cloth, and bandages, passing all of those to Mikey.

“There are some scrapes on his feet, I'd like you to treat them, please.” His father continued with his own treatment of Donnie's burns.

“Yes, father.”

Mikey cringed in sympathy when he saw the soles of Donnie's feet. It was by far the most minor thing tonight, but Mikey's own feet prickled at the thought of being scraped up like that. The skin looked 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 sore.

He had to get to work.

He took up the cloth, gently brushing away any grit near the cuts, they didn't need a nasty infection on top of all of this. They weren't bleeding 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺, but some blood had beaded up around the edges in little red orbs, so Mikey dabbed at those.

He unscrewed the lid of the ointment until it popped off, scooping a large amount onto his fingers. Mikey applied it carefully, taking his time.

Donnie's foot jerked away.

Mikey yelped in surprise, almost dropping the ointment.

“Mmh…”

His foot settled back into place.

Donnie wasn't awake, but movement and noise only gave them more reassurance that he was going to be okay. Mikey allowed himself to smile at that, returning to what he was doing before.

As soon as Mikey was done he wrapped Donnie's feet with bandages, just so his feet wouldn't rub against anything and make the skin more agitated.

Splinter's expression deepened in worry, which wouldn't go unnoticed by Leo.

“What is it, father?

“Donatello's face will need stitches.”

Leo sucked in air through his teeth. That wasn't necessarily a surprise, if he could describe how Donnie's skin looked, then imagine a sheet of paper being run through a shredder.

But instead of allowing the paper to be shredded in a single, smooth, press of a button, somebody started and stopped it at random intervals – instead of neat strips of paper, you'd end up with continuous, un-shredded sections, punctuated by jagged tears and frayed ends.

What made Leo a bit nervous was that obviously none of them were doctors, they had no clue how well this stitching job would turn out.

“Truth is, I myself am a bit nervous about doing this, Leonardo.” He picked up the thread and needle.

“Just do your best, Sensei. That's all any of us can do.”

“Thank you, my son.”

Leo sharply turned his head away when the needle sunk into skin, not wanting to watch flesh be drawn together with thread like some kind of fucked up sewing project.

Mikey, likewise, turned his sights to something else, his gaze burning into Donnie's plastron while he scrubbed away the bloodstains.

"You know," Mikey started, trying to make light conversation to fill the tense silence, "I saw Raph out there when I went to grab the medkit, he's trying to move that hunk of junk all by himself."

"Really?"

"Really. Surprisingly, he's at least got it out of the Shellraiser. No clue how the dude did it, that thing was like trying to move a building." Mikey whined, reflecting on how his muscles screamed in protest when he had to push it out of the facility, and that was even with the help of Leo.

"You should go check up on Raphael, Leonardo." Splinter said, his gaze unwavering from the thread that he moved in a zig-zag pattern.

"But Donnie–"

"Is in good hands. Michelangelo and I are with him. This is a worrying time for all of us, nobody should be alone right now."

...

"Hai, Sensei.”

────────

Raph collapsed against the desk, panting like he had just run a marathon. Nonetheless, he was proud of himself for eventually managing to haul it into the lab.

He slapped a hand over his mouth as a gag suddenly escaped him.

𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘱.

Raph stood up, rushing out of the lab and headed straight for the bathroom. Intense, prolonged panic followed by exerting himself physically probably wasn't the best idea for someone prone to nausea, he was starting to realise a bit too late.

He fumbled with the door handle, stumbling inside and gripping onto the edge of the sink.

A few more retches and the contents of his stomach would spill. Raph groaned, struggling to stand at the sink. His arms and legs felt like jelly after doing all of that on his lonesome.

He wiped the corner of his beak, turning the faucet to wash the vomit down the drain.

Raph jolted at the door creaking. He turned to see Leo.

𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Leo grimaced slightly at the lingering odor in the space.

“Did you throw up or something?” He asked.

“What do you think, genius?” Raph growled, his face flushing a darker shade of green as he turned back to face the mirror, “What are you doing in here, anyway?” He glared at Leo's reflection.

“Sensei told me to come check up on you.”

𝘈𝘩.

𝘚𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝘵𝘰.

He wanted to be left alone usually regardless, but if someone was going to check up on him, then he'd rather it be genuine than an order.

“Well, I didn't need you to check up on me. I'm fine.”

“You look like death.” Leo rebutted.

Dammit Leo, always with the smartass comments that were never wanted. His brothers always acted shocked when he lashed out, but most of the time they were asking for it.

“No, Leo. You know who does look like death?! Donnie!” His shoulders hiked up, tense.

Leo tilted his head, confused.

“I know Donnie isn't in a good state. We all do. So what are you really trying to say?”

Raph went silent, lowering his head to stare into the water that was still swirling down the drain. It was almost hypnotic, like watching a mini whirlpool and listening carefully to the hissing and gurgling.

Leo watched how Raph's shoulders were trying to slump to look relaxed, but would seize up involuntarily, revealing his true emotions. He was trying to hide his feelings away.

How he said he was fine even though he wasn't.

Brought up Donnie out of nowhere.

He got it.

“You think your problems are insignificant just because of what Donnie is going through.”

Raph laughed dryly.

“They are, aren't they? It's just vomit, what's that to having your cheek t-torn up – jeez…” Raph hissed, his feelings coming out of the dark again, “And being strangled and electrocuted?” His voice was wet with emotion.

“Why were you sick, Raph?”

He wanted to scream at Leo, scream at him to get out, because Leo's bland question made him want to lose it. Leo sounded like a damn therapist, who was able to pick apart his brain and decipher his thoughts even when he wouldn't say them outright.

Leo observed, watching his brother's expression twist painfully in the mirror. His eyes blew wide and his pupils dilated.

“B-because… because, because–”

Because he thought they had lost a part of their picture forever, and something impossible would be asked of him. He'd be asked to get used to it. But how could he?

No more criticising TV shows dumb logic with his little brother? No more being the first one to test any new weaponry Donnie had cooked up? No more challenging Donnie to a video game match, which Donnie would always readily agree to, even whilst knowing he almost always lost?

He had a temper, there was no denying that. But Donnie had one too that could be just as bad, if not worse, at times.

Feeling like you're crazy or out of control can be an isolating experience – though thankfully there was always his brother to confide in.

Donnie would relate to how sometimes it felt like words were clawing at his throat, a pain that could only be relieved by yelling.

He thought he had lost all of that in an instant. One of the only people who understood him to a degree.

The mere thought of that made his mind collapse.

There mere thought of that made him…

𝘚𝘪𝘤𝘬.

His stomach churned again.

Leo nodded once, as though he had read Raph's mind and understood all of those spiralling thoughts. But it wasn't Raph's mind he had read, it was his expression that he had analysed like words on a page, or art on a canvas.

We all have off days, sometimes we just don't feel well for some reason and it soon vanishes. This wasn't an innocent case of nausea, though. No, his little brother was, and still is terrified out of his mind – and that kind of severe anxiety needed to be addressed.

“You know, what you're feeling right now is still awful.”

“As awful as electrical burns?” Raph twiddled his fingers.

“No,” Leo agreed, “But Donnie's problems are his and his alone. Your feelings and issues are yours. So it's no good comparing yours to his.”

“If we went around comparing all day, we'd never let ourselves feel anything towards things in our own lives. You'd spend so much time in other people's shoes, that your body would become a husk.”

“It's good to recognise that others are struggling, and sometimes comparison can make us grateful for what we have, but don't let comparison be the thing that makes you forget yourself.”

Leo laid a hand on his shell.

“Now, are you going to be sick again?”

Raph swallowed thickly.

“I think so.”

“Then do it.” Leo started to rub the scutes soothingly, “I'm right here.”

Leo nudged the door closed fully with a foot, he would at least spare Raph some dignity and muffle the sounds of gagging.

He stuck around until his brother had coughed up every drop of fear.