Chapter Text
Donatello woke to a sense of nothingness. Funny, he had always thought that waking up to nothing was impossible. After all, if there was nothing, you were probably dead, right? Well, nothing wasn’t quite the right word for it. He could hear the low humming of rushing water, and of course, see a decaying wall festering with mold in colors he wasn’t sure even existed on this plane of existence.
Yeah, unless Heaven looks like a dirty sewer, I’m pretty sure that I’m not dead, Donatello thought, desperately trying to ignore the atrocity in front of him, which, of course, was pretty hard. He found the dim sewer light to be pretty overstimulating, more so than he thought was even possible. I probably have a concussion, Donatello inwardly groaned, which would explain why I’ve been laying here… in… a… sewer tunnel.
The realization hit him like one of Raph’s punches in training. He was laying on the ground, and not on just any kind of ground; he, Donatello, was lying on dirty, bacteria-infested, rat-peed-on sewer tunnel concrete. I think I’m going to puke. Hurriedly trying to get off the ground, Donatello tried to find his footing only to find that he… didn’t have any? Wha… why can’t I move?
No matter how hard he tried to move, going as far as to try to will movement into existence through sheer willpower and a couple of pleases, his limbs stayed stubbornly still. Great, just great. Donatello tried again, only to find himself mentally exhausted. Well… this is surely something, Donatello grimaced, streaks of worry slowly peeling from the edges of his face. He wasn’t a doctor (well, at least a professionally trained one; he had had way too many experiences with performing life-saving operations for his brothers that he had thought about just Photoshopping himself a degree), but from experience, not being able to move was bad… very, very bad.
Creating a mental checklist, he began listing all of his symptoms… which took all of two seconds. Besides a lack of feeling in his body, he was perfectly healthy. He could breathe, he could think, he could see, he could hear, he could… actually, wait… no, he couldn’t smell (thank goodness), and he could remember the movie night that he and his brothers had last night- Shoot! How could he have forgotten about his brothers? Were they okay? Was he out in the sewers alone? Did his brothers even know where he was?
Thoughts, curling with barbs at the edges of their pages, twisted and scorned, floated to the surface of his mind, taunting him, poking and prodding and laughing DONNY and death DONNY! I’M and pain and-and… BREATHE.
He slowly unraveled the scraggly pages of forgotten memories, ones that he had fought to repress, drowning again and again until they were nonexistent. Breathe, take deep breaths… it’s gone… the future is fine… Cody’s alive… the Tunneler’s destroyed… breathe. And so, Donatello did, drowning in the depths of forgetfulness.
“Don!”
Donatello’s skin crawled. Was that-
“Donny!”
Raphie! Donatello would have burst into tears, that is, if he could. This is perfect! He can help me get back to the lair so I can run some tests and-
“Don! Where are you?”
Right, Raph probably didn’t know where he was. No problem, all he had to do was yell and Raph would come running. Right, just yell. Only… oh… oh no.
As if this day couldn’t get worse, not only did he receive a punch in the face, apparently Master Splinter decided to 1 v 1 him as well. I… I can’t move my mouth…. I-I can’t move anything! Panic began to swarm the poor turtle, draining every last inch of awareness that he had left. Raph can’t hear me, he’s going to leave me, I-I can’t-
“Donny!”
Wait, it… he… huh?
“Don, you okay?”
Donatello almost burst out laughing, not the normal kind, but one that might be heard from someone on little to no sleep. Okay? He was fine, totally fine.
“Donny? Bro, you awake?”
Yep, totally awake. Awake enough to see his entire life FLASH BEFORE HIS EYES-
“Yo Leo, I found him! I’m gonna bring him over!” Wait, Raph was going to-
Suddenly, the world tilted, jolting Donatello out of his delirium. He was being pulled to his legs, by Raph, presumably, but wait, Raph didn’t-
Before Donatello could even blink, he found himself in an up, close, and personal interview with the floor… again. Yeah… this day can’t possibly get worse.
“Shoot! Sorry Donny, I didn’t mean to drop you. I thought you might be able to stand, but I guess I probably should’ve asked you first.”
No kidding, Sherlock.
“It’s just… well, hang on.”
Suddenly, Donatello found himself being picked up again, his eyes clenching close in fear of the worst, but instead of being pile-driven to the ground, he was forced to lay against the sewer wall.
“Yo, Donnie. You might wanna open your eyes.”
Could he? Well, he did close his eyes, so maybe he could open them.
Donatello opened his eyes, preparing to see the usual sight: one worried brother carefully examining him (Raph), one brother scrutinizing the injured turtle’s life choices (Leo), and one brother curious with fear (Mikey).
This time was different.
The first thing Donatello noticed was how tall the sewer was in comparison to his brother. He didn’t remember the sewer being nearly that tall. And then, the second thing threw a chair at him.
Raphie?! What the- huh?
Raph looked like he normally did, a mixture of judgement, confidence, reservation, and calmness, his mask tails flowing in a slight breeze, arms crossed… except he looked nothing like he normally did. Where green scales once rested now lay mushy clay, dyed in his signature green. Instead of his usual leathery knee pads, shoulder pads, and belt, small threads of rope were now tied onto him in a similar fashion. His mask was still a scratchy cloth, albeit a bit more crudely sown together with tiny stitch marks. However, the most noticeable thing about him was his eyes, two white orbs plastered onto his face, blazing more than ever with… wait, worry?
Raph shifted nervously, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Sorry, Don, I know it’s a lot, but I figured it’d probably be best to show you this sooner rather than later,” he remarked, widely gesturing to his new clay form.
Donatello didn’t know what to think, let alone feel. What happened? How could this have happened? Is… Is Raph stuck like that? He wasn’t even sure where to begin.
Raph blinked, his gaze sharpening with scrutiny against his brother. “Yo, Don,” he began, snapping his fingers in front of Donatello’s face, “you there? You didn’t check out, didjya?”
Oh. Donnie startled back into reality. Right, Raph probably doesn’t know that I’m okay, considering the fact that I haven’t really talked… or even moved since he found me. Donatello thought for a moment, trying to figure out where the pieces fit. And then, it came to him.
Donatello blinked. I sure hope this works, because if not, I’m out of ideas.
Raph blinked back, albeit in confusion. “Don? You okay?”
Blink.
Raph paused for a moment, white clay furrowing in thought. “Wait, you trying to communicate with me?”
Blink.
“So… a blink means yes?”
Blink.
”What about no?”
Double blink.
Green clay melting into a smile, Raph finally breathed, relief entering his lungs. “Ah, I get it. You can’t talk, so you’re blinking instead.”
Donnie blinked again, a smile buried deep within his eyes.
Satisfied with the result, Raph crossed his arms and grunted. “Glad to know your brain hasn’t left the station,” he playfully jabbed. In normal circumstances, Donatello would have probably snorted in laughter, but he just couldn’t find the energy to do so, deciding to instead stare at Raphael. That’s when he noticed it.
While Raph was wearing his usual confident smirk, it didn’t manage to reach his eyes. Not only that, he was still fidgeting, something he only did when he got nervous. Narrowing his eyes, Donatello began to blink rapidly, trying to catch his brother’s attention.
Luckily, it didn’t take long.
“Don?”
Raphael leaned towards his still brother, confusion now masking his nervousness. “You okay?”
Silently huffing, Donatello narrowed his eyes, hoping that the recipient of his Morse code would understand what he was trying to say.
Raph paused. “What is it?”
Silence loomed over the two turtles for a few moments, till it finally broke. “Don, look, I have no clue what you’re trying to say,” Raph huffed, his frown distorting his clay slightly, “Maybe Leo’ll have a better clue.”
Donatello watched as Raph carefully grasped him, hoisting his brother onto his shell. Raph hesitated for a moment, probably to center himself, and then took a step.
Suddenly, Raph paused, startling Donatello out of his foggy stupor for the second time that day. “Actually,” Raphael confessed, “Before we go, you need to see something.”
Wait, see something? What does he want me to see? And… wait! Donatello watched helplessly as Raph, who had just carefully set him down, scurried off… in search of… something Donatello was too tired to figure out.
Moments, or minutes for all Donatello knew, passed by, as he sat in silence, his thoughts beginning to drip into nothingness.
Then, just as Donnie began to lose his grip on reality, his brother came back, holding… wait, is that a piece of glass?
Donnie waited, watching as Raph set the unusually long piece of glass somewhere to the right of him. Finally, after a few more moments of silence, Raph grabbed Donatello, this time supporting the bulk of his brother’s weight on his shoulder. “Alright Don, I know you’re probably not gonna like this, but you need to see this,” Raphael remarked, dragging Donatello towards his left.
At first, Donatello wasn’t sure what his brother wanted, the desire to let go of consciousness smothering him. However, that all changed once Raphael stopped, right in front of where he had put the piece of glass. The moment Donatello looked at the piece of glass, he understood.
Throughout his entire time being paralyzed, Donatello hadn’t wondered at all about what he looked like. Sure, he assumed he probably had a couple of cuts, maybe a bruise or two. He had been so worried about not being able to move that he compartmentalized any worries regarding any other injuries. But now, looking at this piece of glass, functioning as a makeshift mirror (So, that’s what Raph was doing, a small part of him realized.), Donatello realized what had happened. While his brother was constructed completely out of clay, he was instead fused together with pieces of wood. In fact, with the small metal screws connecting each joint together, Donatello realized that his form resembled that of a marionette. He still had the exact same rope straps where his gear used to be and the rough resemblance of their usual cloth mask that Raph had, but unlike his brother, Donatello instead had his eyes painted into the wood in a faint shade of white.
He blinked. The white eyes blinked.
He stared. The blank face stared back at him.
He could hear Raph saying something to him, but Donatello found himself slipping, finally losing his grip on reality, with only one thing left in his mind.
Well, this day just got a lot worse.