Chapter Text
Seconds, minutes, hours, then days. Breathe in.
Days had turned to weeks; and slowly, but surely, turned into months.
Over and over and over again, it was the same. Breathe out.
Things were getting better, of course.
Leo was no longer stuck in the medical bay, fully content with racing through the cleaned up hallways as fast as he possibly could on makeshift crutches, until his own prosthetic was completed. Mikey was growing more accustomed to the way his hands still needed the help of metallic bracing to fully close into a proper grip. Raph was able to handle being touched by others now, though the process of getting comfortable enough to touch people himself was a work in progress.
The city, and the lair, was well into the rebuilding process. April and her family had found another apartment to move into, inviting Cassandra and Casey Jr. to stay with them as long as they needed- Though, they still preferred to spend a lot of time within the lair. The kitchen was fully functional again, and they even managed to clear out the hallway towards their bedrooms. Sure, half of their train cars were crushed beyond repairable conditions, but still. It was better.
Yes. Things were getting better. Breathe in.
Which was exactly why Donatello had to keep working.
Work through the stress. Work through the static. Work through the pain. Breathe out.
If Donnie wasn’t sleeping, he was working- and if he wasn’t working, he was thinking.
Calculating. Theorizing.
Problem-solving.
Breathe.
He was almost done with Leonardo’s prosthetic, and was so close to a potential technological breakthrough on the phantom pains that would occasionally shoot through the stump below Leo’s knee. None of the medications Draxum offered had helped so far, but there was still a chance. There had to be a chance. There had to be something Donnie could do about it.
Breathe.
If Donnie could pull another all-nighter, maybe two, he could finish improving the bracing he had created for Mikey’s forearms, making them more comfortable and not as jarring to look at. He could even improve the kitchen cooking-ware, or create a specialty paintbrush, to give Mikey some of his hobbies back during his recovery. There had to be something else Donnie could do to help out.
Breathe.
Maybe if he asked Raph beforehand, he would let Donnie set him up with a shoulder brace, to further improve his physical therapy process, or at the very least offer him some additional strength to match his non-injured arm. He still hadn’t figured out how to give Raph a fully-functioning eye, but… but surely that couldn’t be too hard, right?
Not to mention all of the items within their home that still needed to be repaired as well. Appliances, security cameras, automatic locks… Everything. He could fix everything.
Nothing was too hard to accomplish. It couldn’t be. Casey had told him, all those months ago. His future self had been capable enough-intelligent enough- to create robotic siblings. Fully-functional robotic siblings. He had created flawless prosthetics, designed a plethora of battle tanks and weapons, built perfection out of ruin and rubble. If he hadn’t died in the future timeline, perhaps he might have even been able to save the world. So, surely, logically, desperately- He should be able to solve all of their problems even now.
Donnie wanted to. No.
Donnie had to fix everything. He needed to fix everything.
His eyes were burning.
Had he blinked at all in the last three minutes? His lungs-
“ Donnie! Breathe.”
With a ragged gasp, Donnie heaved air into his burning lungs, blinking rapidly in an attempt to soothe his dry, bloodshot eyes. Through blurry vision, he could just barely make out the numbers on his digital clock. It’s morning, he thought to himself a bit deliriously. Morning?
Oh.
Good. He was still sitting at his desk. He was still working on Leo’s prosthetic, wasn’t he? His own leg bracing still had a good chunk of battery. It was about time to take his medication, but so far his hands still felt stable enough to work. Breathe in.
“Donatello.”
He spun around upon hearing Mikey’s voice again, tilting his head to the side and shifting up his safety goggles as he realized he hadn’t been imagining it. Breathe out.
“Ah,” Donatello nodded, greeting his youngest brother with a gentle smile. “Good morning, Angelo. Not too sure how you opened the door, but how are your-”
“My arms are fine, and the braces you made me are also fine. I was gonna wake you up for breakfast, but you were already at your desk,” Mikey interrupted, a stern yet nervous expression twisting the softer features of his face. “Dee, are you… okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You weren’t moving. Or blinking. Or even breathing, really.”
“A slight mishap, nothing to worry over.”
“You didn’t respond to me at all either.” Mikey’s frown deepened. "Have you even been sleepin’ at all lately?"
“Y-Yes? Yes. I was simply… experimenting, just now.”
“On?”
“Resting with my eyes wide open. Obviously, the experiment was a resounding success.”
He had to look away as Michelangelo continued to stare at him. Despite Donatello’s best efforts, it didn’t seem like his brother believed him for a single moment. He had been able to feign normalcy incredibly well outside of his room, but being caught so off-guard within his own laboratory had never been part of his plan.
Breathe.
After a few more seconds of terse silence between them, Mikey turned on his heel and began walking toward the open laboratory doors.
Wonderful.
Mikey then pressed the button closing the lab doors, locking the two of them inside.
Not wonderful.
“Dee,” Mikey asked in a quiet and careful tone, still facing the metallic lab doors. “I already know the answer, but… would you ever lie to me if it would put our family in danger?”
“Absolutely not,” He responded immediately, though he had a sinking feeling that he was about to be thrust into a conversation he wasn't in any real capacity to handle. "Have we considered you leaving the laboratory within the next few seconds, as opposed to continuing a conversation?"
"Nope." Mikey responded, turning around to face Donatello with a tight smile.
"And why not? I'm not hungry, and I have work-"
"Too bad. I’ve got questions."
"Questions can be answered at a later time. I have to-"
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I-"
"Nu-uh."
"Will you quit interrupting me?" Donatello snapped, a little louder than he had been intending. "If I don't get this done, then-"
"Then what?" Mikey snapped back, crossing the span of the lab and stomping back over to stand in front of Donnie's chair again. "You dropped the thing you were supposedly working on almost ten minutes ago and haven't even noticed! And yet, every time the rest of us have seen you outside of the lab since I woke up, you act perfectly normal. How long have you been stayin’ up like this? How long have you been hidin’ this from us?"
Donatello's gaze shifted down, only realizing that his hands no longer held Leo’s battery pack that he had been working on all night after Mikey had called attention to it. He kept his eyes rooted to the pack on the floor, finding it incredibly difficult to handle looking at his brother anymore.
Breathe.
His muscles felt tight, and his mind was racing.
"How long have you been overworking, Dee?" Mikey continued, voice raw and cracking with emotion.
Donnie's reply felt stuck in his throat.
Breathe.
"How… How long did I miss this?"
The whispered words bled with heartache, causing Donnie's eyes to widen with shock. He glanced up, taking in Mikey's agonized and tearful expression, unsure of what to do.
Emotional support wasn't his thing, it was Mikey's thing. It was Raph's thing. Hell, it was even Leo's thing from time to time. But Donnie? All he knew was logic. He knew how to calculate, theorize and-
Problem-solve.
His body felt like static.
Breathe.
That's right. Donatello was a problem-solver.
Dear Angelo was his little brother, and his little brother crying was a problem. Problems should be solved, and box turtle mutants named Michelangelo should be happy. Therefore, Donnie should be able to solve this, and make his brother happy again.
Somehow.
"Sorry," The words spilled from Donnie's mouth a little robotically at first, but slowly began to form into a more fluent pattern. "Mikey, I'm really, really sorry. Two really's. It's just- There's so much to fix, and now that my own leg bracing is complete and the tremor medication is working, I wanted to get a head start without worrying you guys."
"Y-You said you'd never lie if it put our family in danger," Mikey warbled, looking down at the temporary braces Donnie had created for his forearms with a pained look in his eyes. "So… So, why did you hide that you’ve been runnin’ yourself into the ground? Do you not consider yourself part of our family?"
The meaning behind Mikey's earlier question finally hit Donatello with a heavy intensity.
Donnie was family, and he had-intentionally or not- been putting his own health in danger this entire time while acting as though he was perfectly fine. He knew that. He knew it, but-
Breathe.
"I- I'm not- I can't-"
Breathe.
"Dee? Have you been reminding yourself to breathe this entire time?"
Breathe.
"Mikey, I c-can't-"
All of a sudden, Donnie felt himself being pulled out of his computer chair, black spots speckling through his vision. His ears were ringing, his stomach was churning, someone was yelling, and he couldn't- he couldn't-
"Breathe."
Donatello jolted awake with a deep gasp, feeling as though he had nearly drowned. Blind, shaky fingers clutched around the bed until finding hold of the covers. Satin. The distinct scented smell of 'non-scented' laundry detergent.
He was in his own bed, surely.
“Mikey?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes swiveled over, squinting slightly through the dark of the room to meet Mikey's remarkably calm gaze sitting just beside him.
"I fainted?" Donnie asked, clearing his throat a little.
"Yeah."
"I see. That's… not great for my bad-boy image. You told the others already, I assume?"
"Nope."
"Look, I know- What?" Donnie started, before cutting himself off in a baffled tone. "You didn't tell anyone?"
"Nah," Mikey shrugged, shifting forward to rest his chin in the palm of his hand. "Not yet. Just told them you already ate and just wanted my help with something for a while."
Donnie blinked, eyes scouring Mikey to determine whether or not he was telling the truth.
"Why?" He eventually asked, after a long silence.
"Because," Mikey drawled. "You needed rest, and I needed to think."
"Think? What on earth were you thinking about?"
"How to apologize to you."
Donatello was starting to believe that no matter how hard he tried to understand the way other people worked, it would always be an impossible task.
"Angelo, I don't understand. I should be the one apologizing."
"Yeah, that's why I was thinking."
"Huh?"
"I needed to figure out a way to make you understand what I was apologizing for, or else there'd be no point, y'know?" Mikey sighed, before gesturing to the spot beside where Donnie lay on the bed.
Still in a state of utter confusion, Donnie shifted over to allow space for Mikey to lay next to him without question.
Little sibling privileges were permanent, no matter what.
"Thanks," Mikey grinned, tilting his head up a bit to smile at Donnie beside him. "Now. Where do I begin?"
"I'm not quite sure, considering I still have no idea what is happening right now."
Mikey let out a short, small laugh.
"Okay. Well, I'll just ramble then. Not as ‘Dr. Feelings’, or ‘Dr. Delicate Touch’. Just as Mikey. That sound good?"
"By all means."
"I should have known you were overworkin’ yourself this entire time, even if you weren't showin’ any signs around the rest of us," Mikey started, his voice still chipper, but deadly serious. "You're so smart, Dee. Of course you'd learn how to mask each symptom over time, and without us even realizing it, we'd been catchin’ you less and less. But I should’a known better."
"No, that's not- Ugh. I don't know how to…"
"That's okay. I think I know you're trying to say that's not my job, or maybe that it was impossible in the first place, or something else that doesn't put me at fault. You don't have to verbalize anything, just… listen."
Donatello couldn't do much more than nod, though he made sure to show how disapproving he was with a frown. Perhaps Mikey could feel the frown aura from beside him instead.
"Then, when I caught you earlier, sitting at your desk and staring at the parts of Leo's leg thing, frozen and looking like a damned ghost, I- I freaked out, okay? I panicked, ended up freaking you out, and then you fainted. I should have known better there, too."
Donnie shook his head from side to side in disagreement, willing the aura of his frown to intensity. He was sure Mikey could feel it, because a moment later he heard an amused snort.
"I know you still don't agree, but too bad. I'm sorry about it, and as one of my older brothers, you've just gotta deal."
Seeing as Michelangelo had somehow gotten so good at reading him that he didn't even have to bother speaking, Donnie opted to turn over instead, rolling to face the wall on his side with a huff.
"It's been nearly three months, Dee."
Mikey's words were quiet, but it almost felt like he had screamed them directly into Donnie's brain. Three months? Three entire months. Had it really been that long?
"I just wish I'd caught you sooner."
"Impossible. You're not omniscient." Donnie murmured, just as quietly, back still turned toward where Mikey lay staring at the ceiling.
"Well, I wish I was."
"I'm glad you're not."
As soon as he said it, Donnie winced. That definitely didn't come out right, and the way Mikey held his breath for a short moment only confirmed it.
"Oh,” Mikey sighed. “Okay. Good thing I'm not, then."
"You'd prefer not being omniscient, so long as I rather you weren't?" Donnie frowned again, twisting his head to stare at Mikey over his shoulder. "Why? My opinion shouldn't matter in the case of your wishes, anyhow."
Donatello continued to watch as Mikey sighed, then shifted, carefully maneuvering his hand into the pocket of his sash where he normally held his weapon. The bulky metal bracing against his fingers made it slow and difficult, but after a few more seconds of silent struggle, Mikey finally pulled something out and held it out for Donnie to see.
Raising an eye ridge, Donnie turned onto his back again to grab the item. It looked to be some kind of switchblade- old and rusted, with a little circular blinking light above the handle. Flipping it over, a small, faded engraving read: For Angelo, Your Very First Knife.
.
.
.
Donnie had watched carefully as his younger brother opened the box holding the safety knife he had perfected. After a ridiculous amount of trial and error, with various cuts and razor thin slices to show for it, he had created a knife that would instantly disassemble the moment it detected potential injury.
“Donnie, what is this?” Mikey had whispered, looking up and staring at Donnie’s hands with wide eyes.
Donatello quickly hid his hands within the pockets of his hoodie again, knowing that his little brother would be better off not knowing just how many times he had failed before his first successful attempt.
“It’s a knife, of course. I simply programmed it to disassemble the millisecond it detects the potential of injury to skin, then reassemble once it’s safe. There’s also a sheathing feature in the event of an accidental stab-”
He vaguely remembered saying something or another about avocado statistics afterwards, but the tight hug that Michelangelo had surprised him with was far more memorable in Donnie’s mind.
.
.
.
“This,” Donnie sat up straight, staring down at the aged knife in shock. “Is this what I think it is? Mikey, it’s been years. You kept it? This entire time?”
“Duh. How could I ever toss it? You made it, just for me.”
“But… But I had made you an even better one a few years later. Why keep this when you have an upgraded one? I don’t even think this battery works properly anymore. It’s broken.”
“Because, you made it for me,” Mikey repeated, sitting up to lean his head against Donnie’s shoulder. “Your opinions always have my best interests in mind, Dee. That’s why they matter so much to me, no matter what. So, if you really think I shouldn’t be omniscient, there must be a good reason for it. But still… I wish you would stop overworking yourself all the time.”
“I- You still don’t get it,” Donnie groaned, lowering the knife to throw his head back in exasperation. “If I don’t work, nothing will be solved. Nothing will be fixed, and nothing will be normal again. I need to fix things, Mikey. I need it, or else I won’t feel whole.”
“What made you feel empty in the first place?”
Donnie opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He closed it again with a harsh swallow, out of sorts and out of words.
He… didn’t know.
As much as he always wanted to know the answer to anything and everything, he had no idea what had caused him to spiral in the first place. Donatello didn’t have an answer. He didn’t even know where to start.
Mikey seemed to be patiently waiting for him to reply, but as seconds turned to minutes, it became quite obvious that there wasn’t going to be any sort of reply at all.
“Hey, Donnie?”
“Hm?” He barely managed to hum in response.
“I’m… I’m so glad you can walk on your own again, and that your tremor medication is working well,” Mikey murmured, nuzzling his cheek into Donnie’s shoulder a little more. “Really. But, you know I’d still love you just as much if you could never walk again, right? We all would. Just like how you’d love Leo even if he couldn’t walk, either- Or if I could never use my arms properly, or if Raph had to wear an eyepatch forever. You’d still love us, and we’d still love you.”
“I- Yes. I know that.”
“Do you? Do you understand that you’re worth more than whatever you think you could offer? Do you realize that there’s nothing to fix, because none of us are broken? Yeah, we’re all a little different now, sure. But we’re not broken. You’re not broken.”
He wasn’t broken?
“Even if you didn’t know it before…” Mikey continued. “I hope you know it now.”
He wasn’t broken. None of them were.
Donnie was starting to feel like he wanted to cry, but couldn’t seem to manage it. There was the oddest sense of disassociation, a loss of his sense of time; as though he was experiencing everything just a few seconds too late.
“You’re worth so much more than your mind and body, Dee.”
Donatello wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but by the time he felt any semblance of normal again, Mikey had long since fallen asleep against his shoulder. His brother’s words had revolved around his head, over and over again, stuck on repeat.
Worth more than mind and body, Donnie pondered. How could that possibly be? Michelangelo would have no idea how intelligent he was supposed to become in his adulthood, so how could he say Donnie was worth more than what he currently believed he was… Unless his worth wasn’t being measured by his intelligence at all? But Angelo had mentioned that his body was not the basis of his worth either.
How could that be? If he didn’t have his intelligence or his strength, then what did he have?
What could his worth possibly be measured by? He didn’t think he had much else.
Dedication? Stubbornness? Arrogance? Delirium?
He continued to wonder, matching Mikey’s even breaths.
A single knock at the laboratory doors sometime later had him blinking out of his thoughts.
“Yes?” Donnie called out, knowing that Mikey could sleep through a hurricane so long as no one was yelling or fighting.
“Hey,” Leo’s voice responded. “Wanna lemme in?”
“Mikey’s asleep.”
“Ah, phooey. You know he’ll stay asleep, even if I start playing a drum set in there.”
With a sigh, Donnie nudged Mikey over to rest his head back on the pillow before tapping the button on his tech gauntlet associated with the laboratory doors. Leo hopped in, expertly maneuvering his crutches to plop himself onto the bed, successfully draping over both his brother’s legs without bashing into anything.
“You guys skipped lunch, too, huh?”
“And breakfast, apparently.” Donatello nodded, closing the lab doors again.
“Hmm,” Leo hummed, waving his amputated leg around in the air absentmindedly. “How’s your leg brace holding up?”
“It’s operating, though I should probably charge up the battery soon. Any more symptoms to report?”
“Meh, had another episode this morning,” Leo shrugged, referring to the random spikes of pain that would shoot up from his missing lower leg at any given moment. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Hmm.” Donnie echoed Leo’s earlier hum, mentally jotting down the information.
A comfortable silence took hold of the room for a while, with Donnie zoning out again as Leo scrolled through some random skateboarding forums. Mikey remained dead asleep despite Leo’s additional weight above him, just as they had both predicted.
Now that he thought about it, Leo had lost proper use of one of his legs as well… perhaps he could offer some advice- however stupid or serious it might turn out to be.
“Nardo,” Donnie asked, hesitation clear in his tone. “A question.”
“An answer,” Leo smirked, twisting around to give his brother a goofy grin. “Nah, go ahead.”
“Do you ever feel,” Donnie paused, weaving his fingers together tightly as he realized the tremor had long since returned. “Well, regarding your leg…”
Leo’s eyes had flitted down to observe Donnie’s shaking hands, though the mention of his leg had him looking back up just as quickly- any semblance of his joking demeanor gone. He waited, expression open and neutral as Donatello struggled to find the right words.
“Since losing your leg, have you ever felt… less than?”
“Sure,” Leo responded casually. “I mean, I weigh even less than Mikey now. How crazy is that? Chopping half a leg off feels like a pretty extreme weight loss method, but well- That’s not really what you’re asking, is it?”
“If we’re being specific, the majority of your weight loss was caused by the deterioration of temporarily joining Angelo’s comatose state. You’re already up ten pounds, so I’m sure you’ll be mostly back to your original weight soon. Perhaps 3-4% lighter.”
Leonardo simply raised an eye ridge, an expectant half-smile still on his face.
“Right,” Donnie sighed, looking away. “You’re right. That wasn’t what I had been asking.”
“Then… have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Haven’t you felt ‘less than’ every once a while after all this?” Leo clarified, waving his arms around a bit to accentuate. “I lost everything below my right knee and still can’t function right, you lost the use of your entire left leg and your fingers shake all the time, Mikey might never be able to close his fists fully, and I don’t even wanna start on Raph losing an eyeball. It’d be weirder if none of us had moments of feeling bad over it.”
Donnie nodded, bouncing his good leg slightly to try and get some energy out.
“Broken.”
The phrase was just as monotone as his usual cadence, but it caused Leonardo to freeze.
“Say that again?”
“Broken?”
“What, so you– you think I’m broken now?” Leo whispered after a long silence, twisting around and pushing up to look Donatello dead in the eyes. “We’re all broken? Is that what you mean?”
“No,” Donnie immediately disagreed. “No, I never actually thought any of you were broken. I just wanted you all to feel better. I wanted to make sure everyone could do what they used to be able to do, so you’d all be happy again! But… I’m not sure whether or not I was applying that to myself or not. Then Angelo politely chewed me out a little earlier, and- Well. I just don’t know anymore.”
“Don, what exactly did Mikey say?”
“He suggested that I was worth more than my mind and my body, but I still don’t get it.”
“Okay. What part of that confuses you?” Leo frowned, carefully wiggling himself onto the edge of the bed to sit up properly. “Do I need to call the big guy in here?”
“No!” Donnie blurted out, lowering his tone as soon as the ridge of Mikey’s eyes furrowed in his sleep. “No, I don’t require Raph’s older brother pep-talk treatment. I just want to know what you think.”
“Why me?”
“Because, Leo. I see you,” Donnie said in a low voice. “I see you at night, practicing in the dojo. Training when you think no one else is awake. I see how you stare at me sometimes, how you stare at the brace against my leg with that shimmer of envy in your eyes. You want to walk like how you used to, and I want to see you run. I never once thought of you as broken, but what’s so wrong with wanting to fix all of this? I don’t get it.”
“There’s a difference between wanting to help and needing to fix, Dee,” Leo responded, massaging the unconscious furrow between Mikey’s brows with his thumb as he spoke.
“Well, I don’t care for the difference.”
“Sure you do,” Leo shrugged. “Or else you wouldn’t be trying to ask me about it.”
“Ugh!” Donnie groaned in frustration, mashing the palms of his hands into his face and throwing his head back. “I just want to work! Why are you talking like Mikey now?”
“Well, maybe I just want to practice! I saw you too, y’know. I just didn’t realize how far you’d been pushing yourself. At least I’m being safe about it and not going crazy like you are. Take power naps and ‘chill’ a bit more like the rest of us posers.”
“You wouldn’t know ‘safe’ if it hit you over the head, dum-dum.”
“Safer thanyou. Losing sleep and overworking never ends well for you, and yet here we are.”
“I plead the fifth.”
Leonardo rolled his eyes dramatically, laying back down above both his brothers’ legs and dangling his lower half off the side of the bed. He stayed quiet, giving Donnie the time he needed to mentally recalibrate himself.
“When you were losing your mind trying to finish your own leg brace, why were you in such a rush?” Leo eventually asked.
“I wanted to be able to move the way I used to. Function the way I used to.”
“But why?” Leo pushed again.
Donnie sighed.
“How exactly am I supposed to help the rest of you if I’m… like that?”
“So you weren’t even ‘fixing’ yourself for yourself in the first place,” Leo glanced over at Donnie momentarily, glancing away to stare at the ceiling again. “And? Did you think the rest of us were ‘less than’ just because we lost parts of ourselves? As broken things to be fixed?”
“I’m offended that you would even ask.”
“I already know you don’t,” Leo smiled. “But I’m asking to drive a point home to you, stupid.”
“You’re stupid, stupid.” Donnie instinctively replied.
“Yeah, yeah,” Leo huffed, teasing smile fading into a more genuine expression. “Look. Layman’s terms. You don’t think of us as ‘less than’ and we’ve never once thought of you as ‘less than’ just because you need that support brace now. Am I jealous that you’ve been able to walk around while I’ve been crutch-hopping? A little, yeah. I’m not perfect. But I’m way more happy to actually see you standing up and making coffee on your own again. I don’t think you’ve noticed, but you’ve been smiling just a little more often ever since gaining a bit of your independence back. So… More than anything, I’m already happy, Dee.”
“But I haven’t been able to finish your prosthetic at all yet,” Donnie mourned. “I keep trying and trying, but each and every time, the perfect method eludes me.”
“Dude. I don’t want a perfect prosthetic as much as I want my brother. None of us do. Stop forcing yourself to overwork like this. Don’t you realize? You used to actually have fun working on mechanics. Now, it’s like an obligation for you. Fixing stuff isn’t your duty, Dee. It used to be your favorite hobby.”
As much as Donnie hated to admit it, he knew Leo was right.
When did he stop enjoying the process?
How did he start feeling like this?
Why was it so hard to stop?
.
.
.
“Hey, Dee?” Raph’s voice rumbled behind the laboratory door, hours later. “Ya still up?”
It was about dinner time now, but Donatello hadn’t really been in any proper mood to join the rest of his family around the refurbished kitchen table. Leo had woken Mikey up about a half hour after their conversation died down, somehow managing to guide him out while balancing between his crutches at the same time.
Donnie had decided to try sleeping a little longer after that, though it was hard for him to determine whether or not he had actually been successful. The entire day was starting to feel like a daydream, one that he would eventually snap out of in order to focus again.
It felt like too much.
Everything was too much.
“Mhm,” He managed to mumble, shoving his face deeper into his favorite pillow.
“Will ya open these doors, or am I gonna have to pry ‘em open?”
With a slightly annoyed groan, Donatello went ahead and pushed the button on his tech gauntlet, allowing the metals doors to slide open. He heard Raph shuffle inside, closing them again once he felt the heavy weight of his brother dip his mattress as he sat at the edge.
“Hey.”
“Hello, Raph.”
“Brought ya some tea.”
Donnie didn’t bother responding.
“Come on,” Raph insisted, gently tapping the back of Donnie’s head with the bottom of the warm cup. “Just a sip or two is fine. Glug?”
“Glug.” Donatello repeated, slowly pushing himself up to face Raph properly and reaching out to grab hold of the drink.
He paused as Raph pulled the drink away just before he could grab it.
“Wha-”
“Uh… I’ll hold it for ya. Just drink, it’s fine.”
Donnie stared down at his hands, snout twisting with disappointment at the realization of how the tremor shook through them uncontrollably. They used to be so steady, medication or not.
He dropped them back down into his lap in defeat.
“Just put it on the nightstand, Raphael. I’ll drink it later.”
Raph frowned, seeming lost in thought for a moment.
“Oh,” He said with a start, reaching over to try and grab the bottle of medication at the edge of the shelf above them. “Here, ya probably missed your dose today.”
Donnie watched as Raph nearly missed the bottle completely on his first attempt, grasping at the empty air just in front of the shelf instead.
He watched the second attempt, successful this time, and continued to watch as Raph had to place the cup down in order to grip the bottle cap with his stronger hand. His damaged shoulder had left that arm just a little weaker so far, even with all the physical therapy.
Donnie watched as Raph held his hand out towards him again, two small pills sitting in his outstretched palm. He watched them, stared at them, almost in a trance.
“I hate this,” He whispered quietly, unable to help himself. “I still hate this.”
The pills disappeared from view, covered by Raphael’s fingers as they curled at Donnie’s words.
“Yeah,” Raph nodded, just as quietly. “I know.”
“Mikey said it’s been months.” Donnie continued, unable to stop.
“That so?”
“Everything feels different now. But it’s all the same, too. Nothing’s really changed. No matter how hard I try, I still can’t fix this… What do I do, Raph? I don’t know what to do.”
Raph remained quiet as Donnie’s tone dipped even lower with a haunting note of despair, only moving to grip the medication trapped within his hold just a little tighter. They sat for a while, unsure of what to say or how to act. By the time Raph looked back up, Donatello was sure the tea had long since gone cold.
“When I was… When Raph stayed behind, way back then,” Raphael struggled, shifting around uncomfortably. “And they found out where our lair was ‘cause of me, I- I guess I never really explained how they learned ‘bout it.”
Donnie waited, eyes wide and glossy as they darted about Raph’s hunched figure beside him.
“Not worth goin’ into all the gory details or nothin’ but,” Raph took in a shaky breath. “Didn’t have any choice in the matter. They just… He decided to look for himself. I never stood a chance, and that kinda broke me for a while.”
“R-Raph,” Donnie started, but couldn’t continue.
What could he even say? Whatever happened was… just another thing he’d never be able to fix.
“Point is,” Raphael cleared his throat. “That thing I told you, all those months ago, still stands. Life’s about failing, and learnin’ from your failures. Some stuff can’t be fixed, and some stuff don’t need to be fixed. Sometimes, things are meant to change. Accepting and adaptin’ to it is the hard part.”
“I want to adapt. That’s what I’ve been trying to do this entire time,” Donatello leaned forward, bracing shaky hands in front of him. “If I keep working on all of the tech I have planned, then we’ll be able to adapt better. Easier. Won't we?”
“Yea,” Raph smirked, opening his hand up once more to offer Donnie his medication. “But you haven’t accepted any of it. Workin’ with fate at your own pace is a lot better than tryin’ to change it completely, don’t ya think? We’re okay, Dee. We’re all gonna make it.”
Work with fate, rather than against it.
Because at the end of the day, everyone was… okay.
Everyone was alright. Everything was fine.
Somehow, another piece had fallen right into place within his mind at the realization. In all his rush to get everyone back to where they used to be, Donnie hadn’t once considered that his intellectual frenzy to restore everyone, to fix everything, was akin to denying fate itself.
Returning everyone and everything to exactly how it used to be was a fruitless endeavor, right from the start. Repairs were not the same thing as miracles, and they never would be.
“Hah!” Donnie heard his voice bark out a laugh, but didn’t register that it had come from him until he was practically bent over in an uncontrollable laughing fit. “Hahaha!”
“Donnie?” Raph fretted, hands wavering about him in concern.
“We’re gonna make it. You’re absolutely right! We’re gonna make it,” Donnie managed to repeat through a chorus of giggles, eventually falling back into a stupor. “Yeah. We’re… we’re okay. We’ve been okay. This entire time.”
He fell against Raph’s shoulder with a sudden wave of exhaustion, grabbing the tiny pills and swallowing them down dry with one shaky swoop of his arm. He felt Raph tense at the touch, but the moment was gone just as soon as it had begun. He felt his older brother chuckle against his side, and a moment later the now cold tea was offered to him again.
This time, Donnie didn’t mind how Raph held the cup for him.
He didn’t mind the medication, either.
It was… okay. It was fine.
He was worth more than his mind and body. He was worth his own happiness.
Donatello was done trying to ‘fix’ things. Instead, he would simply try to help.
He’d work with fate, rather than against it.
.
.
.
Finally, he felt like he could breathe.