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“It’s okay, Don.”
His mouth hung open, both out of shock and from the lack of air in his lungs. Despite his older brother keeping the pressure of an entire building from crushing him, they’d been trapped under the rubble for more than a short moment. Could the oxygen already be running out? Their light had, the only thing letting them keep visual was the blue glow from his gauntlet.
“It’s okay.” Raphael repeated, blood falling through his lips the same way it fell from his chest. The huge piece of rebar didn’t bounce off his mighty shell like it was supposed to. Straight through the back and then the front. Perhaps it missed his heart judging by the fact Raph wasn’t dead, but it must have hit his lungs.
Blood dripped from the metal onto Donatello’s shoulders. So warm, but it made him shiver.
He stared at the wound. He stared at Raph. It shouldn’t have happened like this. He’d been reckless. His genius mind fell underneath his ego as his mystic weapons took out hoards of kraang at a time. He should have noticed Sister Kraang’s movements as she darted around the building. Should have realized he took out most of the supports.
And now Raph was… Raph was…
Donatello opened his mouth, desperate to say something. To say sorry. To beg for forgiveness. To tell his brother he loved him.
Where were the rest of his family? Why hadn’t they found them yet? If they did so now there may still be a chance to save him.
“Ra…” Donatello only managed to croak out the first syllable. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to try again.
Then Raphael coughed. Blood splattered and poured from his lips.
Donatello felt it hit his face. He tasted the iron in his mouth, tasted death. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream. The shock kept him paralyzed in place.
Why couldn’t anyone find them? Why couldn’t anyone save them?
Why couldn’t that piece of rebar just fall a bit farther and run him through as well?
An alarm ripped away the darkness, but not the taste of blood in his mouth. Donatello sat up and glanced around.
His bunk in the resistance headquarters, of course.
Donatello tapped his gauntlet to shut the alarm off and put it on his wrist.
A nearby groan made him glance over at the other makeshift bed. Leo and Mikey were both curled up on it. Donnie shared his room with Leo, due to limited space in the base, and Mikey used to share one with Raph until… well…
The box turtle couldn’t stand to sleep alone anymore, so he started sleeping in here.
Leo sat up first. “That time already, huh?”
Mikey refused to budge however, wrapping his limbs all the way around Leo’s middle.
The slider didn’t push him off. He just looked at Donnie, “What’s on the agenda today?”
Donatello stepped over and held up the gauntlet’s screen, scrolling up to the daily schedule. Inventory management, mission planning, combat training, those were all the key components. In between that, Donatello would no doubt keep himself busy with tech development. So tricky to do as resources slimmed down more and more, but he’d make due. He had to.
“Right, got it.” Leo shimmied his way out of Mikey’s grip and off the bed. “Let’s hope we don’t have to go on another supply run this early.”
Donatello nodded and went to grab the rest of his gear. He’d get a head start on counting what was left in the storage room.
“You okay, by the way?” His twin kept asking questions. “You look pretty rough. Another nightmare?”
He didn’t answer that. He just slipped on his goggles and went for his battle shell.
“You don’t have to tell me what it was. I’m just—”
Donatello fixed his stare on Leo, a silent insistence that he should stop asking questions. The slider glared back at him, but didn’t press the issue. He just went back to the bed, tossed the sheets over Mikey, and grabbed his scarf.
Donatello shook his head as he headed into the dorm hallway. Leo should know better by now.
If Donatello hadn’t spoken a word in the five months since Raph’s death, why would he start now?
Sometimes it wasn’t even that he didn’t want to—though he usually didn’t want to—the words simply wouldn’t form. And the few that did would get stuck in his throat as the phantom taste of blood flooded his mouth.
He knew it was distressing his teammates, his family, and he knew that they were grieving the loss of Raph just as much as he was.
But they hadn’t been there, at the bottom of it all. They hadn’t seen the light leave the snapper’s eyes that remained open and unfocused. Even in death his body refused to bend, refused to let the building finally finish collapsing and crush Donatello underneath its weight.
He wanted so badly to scream at the time. To shout at his older brother to wake up, to come back, but the blood lingered on his tongue. Opening it made the taste of iron all the worse.
Donatello shook the memories as he entered the main storage room. Inventory, something dull and repetitive to keep his mind off of things.
He could keep doing this. He could keep running through the routines, the motions, the plans, the missions, and even more. As long as nothing sudden and unusual happened, he could keep it together.
As long as they didn’t lose anyone else.
He didn’t want to even toy with the idea. He wouldn’t let it happen.
If anyone else died next in this mission to save the world from dissolving under the kraang, it would be Donatello.
Donatello just got finished with counting inventory. Thankfully they were still well stocked with most everything, but they needed to do a supply run for water. Not a dangerous mission, thankfully. Donatello long since set up various well points near the base. Sadly not in the base, since there was no vein to tap into. The teams just had to take the water tank out to one of these wells and make sure it was clear before drawing water out and returning. If that well looked too dangerous, they’d check another.
He made notes of it for their meeting today as he walked down the hall. He had a few hours before that, so he may as well use his free time.
“Donatello.”
He turned at Cassandra’s voice. Impossible to miss since she never spoke quietly. Either her voice boomed through the halls or the field or she simply didn’t speak at all. Casey Jr. stood behind her, peeking out. The kid was almost eight now, wasn’t he? Sprouting up quick at this point, despite their lack of good foods for him.
He tilted his head at her.
“Glad I caught you. Can you keep an eye on Junior while I run the training today.”
Donatello frowned and pointed at her.
She gave an aggravated sigh. “Can you use more than one sign please?”
He glared and moved his hands again to signal, “stay with you.”
“No. Lately if I take him to training he keeps trying to join in. I can’t watch the students and keep him from stealing dangerous weapons off the wall at the same time.”
Donatello made the sign for Leo.
“I found you first.”
He shook his head and pointed down the hall before trying to leave.
“Hey!” Cassandra shouted and darted to catch up with him. “What is with this attitude? You used to be ecstatic to watch over Junior.”
Yeah well, that was before…
Donatello looked at Casey, saw the kid staring at him with the faintest of frowns on his face.
The kid picked up way too many of Raph’s mannerisms. It was almost frightening.
Besides, ghosts aside, Donatello couldn’t consider himself good company for a child anymore. He didn’t speak, he just worked.
Of course he didn’t verbalize any of this, but over the years Cassandra got a knack for picking out his expressions.
“Does this still have to do with Raph?” She asked.
He tried not to flinch, but failed.
“That was months ago.”
He shot her another glare.
“Do not give me that look. You think you’re the only one who misses him? You think isolating yourself is doing anything to honor him?”
He didn’t answer that, not even with a sign. She wouldn’t understand.
Cassandra’s eyes kept spitting venom. “Wallowing in guilt because you caused his death won’t do anything to fix your mistake.”
That struck him in the chest. He bared his teeth, wanting to snarl, to lash out, but he swiftly remembered that Casey was right there and no matter how angry he got he wouldn’t do that in front of the kid.
“Come on Junior.” Cassandra straightened up and tapped her son on the head. “We’re going to find Leo.”
The kid’s big eyes watched her go, then glanced back at Donatello. He gave an uncertain wave before scrambling to keep up with her.
He wanted to argue with what she said, because she wasn’t there, she didn’t understand. But he knew she was right, at least partially. Guilt drove almost everything he did these days. And Raph probably wouldn’t want him feeling this way, or acting this way, but that didn’t matter. Donatello couldn’t shake the feeling, and maybe that made him weak, but that’s just the way it was.
He continued his trek to his lab to lock himself in until meeting time. Well, maybe not lock himself in entirely, if the dragons decided to use it they knew not to bother him with anything unimportant.
Hopefully today he could finish up that new batch of weapons.
The dragons didn’t come into the lab today, but April did.
She brought some tomato juice with her. They hadn’t regrown any coffee yet, and it was a much lower priority plant than the veggies and fruits they needed. And while Donatello usually had a distaste for veggies, he got very used to appreciating tomato juice over nothing but water for the rest of his life.
“How are the weapons coming?” At least she only inquired about work. He showed them to her, one after another. Some staffs with a built-in shield. An array of guns that fired lasers. A set of dart guns that were filled with a curious pesticide April discovered at the start of the war. Hard to create, but vital to taking out some of the kraang permanently.
“We should get some more defensive weapons.” She tested the shield on the staff a couple of times. “I think keeping people from getting infected is starting to become our priority since we’ve plateaued at gaining more numbers.”
True. The survivor searches ended a couple of years ago when the missions constantly came up empty. It’s possible they simply weren’t looking in the right places—after all Donnie refused to believe they were the only resistance colony out there—but they could only go so far. Hopefully some people in another part of the world were fairing just as well. A likely scenario, given that the three main kraang continued to keep their focus on the state of New York since the turtles gave them so much trouble.
April leaned the staff against the desk again. “Casey was complaining to me earlier, about your conversation.”
Donatello immediately frowned at her. He did not want to talk about this.
But that clearly didn’t come across, because April continued. “Look, Don, I get it. Maybe she wasn’t there when we found you but I was. I know why losing Raph is tearing you up so bad, but she has a point.”
He knew that. He did, but he wouldn’t admit it. He just curled up in his chair and pretended to focus on his computer screen instead.
April’s hands rested on the back of his chair, but didn’t touch him. “You can deal with it however you want to, okay? If you don’t want to talk it’s fine, just promise me you’re not going to give up.”
Give up? No, he wouldn’t. Not in the way they were all expecting, at least. If he was going to throw his life away, it wouldn’t be in a careless manner. It’d be because there was no other option. Because his death could lead to victory for everyone else.
He just nodded in response.
“Good.” The touch of her hand to his shoulder was so gentle, and when he didn’t pull away she gave it a squeeze. “Gonna kiss you on the head, is that okay?”
He nodded again, taking comfort in the brief moment she leaned against his back and her lips touched the top of his head just behind his goggles.
“Try not to overwork yourself before the meeting.” She let go and headed for the door.
Donatello scoffed at the advice, but the longer he stared at his screen the more the letters and words turned into a blur. He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling instead. Only thirty minutes until the meeting anyway, he could take a brief break at least.
The meeting was short and sweet, just how Donatello liked it.
He always wrote up all his notes beforehand, and had a list of their stock and what they needed, as well as what information on kraang movement he could gather. It wasn’t as accurate as he would like, only able to set up so many remote cameras in the surrounding area, but it was certainly enough to keep them safe. Currently all clear. Their stealth for the past month kept the kraang from sniffing out their base location and had them digging through other places for the time being.
Donatello would just point to the notes as they went. Leo would do most of the talking, sometimes asking for confirmation which Donnie would answer with a nod or a shake of the head.
The supply mission was planned by his twin, always the better one with tactics, and by now he knew most of the people in the base so well. With the group put together they planned to set out on the mission tomorrow before dawn. Kraang had pretty good vision, in the light or the dark, but the cover of shadows still gave them a better chance to go undetected.
With the meeting adjourned, Donatello returned to his lab. He planned to stay there the rest of the day, or at least until dinner was handed out. Somehow he already felt exhausted. Maybe the nightmares were keeping him from getting a restful sleep.
He only sat down for a few minutes when the lab door opened. Leo walked in, not smiling, so he wasn’t here to crack a joke and be a nuisance.
Donatello turned his seat toward him and crossed his arms, to make it clear he was listening.
His twin stopped in front of him. His brown eyes darted between Donnie, the computer, and the workbench. “Hey,” he finally mumbled.
Donatello raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.
Only now did Leo smile, a nervous one. “Sorry, I uh, had all this stuff I wanted to say when I walked in here but, now that I’m actually here it’s fallen out of my brain.”
The softshell frowned. That made it sound like it was serious serious. He stood and was instantly reminded that by this point he was getting taller than his twin. At one point in his life he would have gloated about it, laughed in his face, but he didn’t have the energy to anymore.
“You know…” Leo tapped his fist against his thigh. “It used to be that when I came barging in here unannounced you’d toss an insult at me, something about knocking or making a nuisance of myself. And I’d just quip back and we’d have some petty back and forth until Kendra yelled at us to shut up.”
He chuckled and continued. “But I kept doing it anyway, because it made stuff feel normal around here, you know? Arguing and bickering like we did back in the lair. But now no matter what I say, you just say… nothing.”
Donatello frowned, studying his twin’s face, but with that false smile there it was impossible to read.
“And I get it.” He continued and paced around. “I miss Raph a lot too, and I can’t imagine what it was like being trapped under there with him when he…” His words trailed off and his smile finally vanished. His hands shook and he ended up clutching his wrist, massaging it in his grip as if it would make it stop.
Donatello wanted to ask what prompted this conversation. Why bring this up now? No doubt it had something do with what April said, or Cassandra.
“Five months…” Leo mumbled. “When it first happened you shutting down was a given. It’s not the first time we’ve seen it, but it lasting this long… I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re thinking Donnie, and it’s not like you can tell me either.” He barked out a short laugh. “But it… it sucks, you know?”
He looked at Donatello, stared at him as if he was looking at a ghost. “You’re standing right in front of me, but it’s still like you’re not here at all. You’re not rambling about your inventions, or scolding us for being reckless, or cracking jokes back at me, or encouraging our teammates, or teaching Casey about protons and neutrons, or even talking out loud to Dad like he’s still here.”
Donatello clenched his fist at the mention of that memory. He used to do it all the time when he was alone, or thought he was alone. After all, the Hamato could commune with their ancestors and their lost family, but he hadn’t attempted it once since they lost Raph.
He was too afraid. Too afraid that Raph would answer.
Leo sighed. “Sorry, I don’t know where I’m going with this. I guess I just… miss you sometimes. It’s like we lost you and Raph in the same day, even though you’re still here.”
The slider did something he rarely ever did. He sniffed and covered his eyes before they teared up.
“Sometimes I even wonder if it’d been me if you would even—”
Donatello didn’t want to hear where that line of thought was going, so he did something he rarely did these days as well. He stepped forward and pulled his twin into a hug.
He still loved his brothers and the rest of his family, possibly even more intensely than he ever did. Losing their father and one brother was more than enough to make him understand how easy it would be to lose the rest of them. And he wouldn’t let it happen. He refused to.
“Sorry,” Leo mumbled, at least he stopped crying. “I just kept thinking after this morning.” He straightened up and tugged himself free. “Did you have another nightmare, Donnie?”
This time he answered the question with a nod.
“I see.” He wiped his hand down his face. “You can always share my bunk, you know. Mikey can sleep in his shell so he doesn’t take up much space.”
A kind offer, but Donatello knew better than to do that. Something warm next to him would just make his nightmares worse, not better.
But he didn’t even say that, or outright reject the offer. He nodded again.
“Okay, good.” Leo gave him a light smack on the shoulder. “Speaking of Mikey, he really wanted to see you? He’s in his usual spot, if you’re up for it.”
Another nod. Avoiding his little brother would get him nowhere. Mikey would find him at some point or another and then whatever he wanted to discuss would be done in a far more aggressive manner.
But Donatello let Leo leave first. The slider just gave him a silent wave before the door closed behind him.
He looked at the computer screen and then the empty lab. He seemed to be worrying everyone today. Was he just not making himself scarce enough to avoid being on their minds? Or maybe that was the problem.
He should take some training shifts. Maybe that would get them off his back.
Mikey’s usual spot was a meditation room. Not a big space, constructed inside an old closet, but enough to set up some candles and the like. He sat on the floor, legs criss crossed and his long braid floating behind him as his mystic energy drifted into the air.
But as soon as Donatello stepped in, the box turtle stopped. His hair fell against his back and he turned around with a smile.
“There you are.” He hopped up. “I was almost worried you wouldn’t come by today.”
Donatello shrugged and then made the sign for a question, to ask what he was doing here.
“Just a bit worried.” Mikey admitted. “I heard about your talk with Cassandra.”
He glared and finally typed onto his gauntlet into the text to speech function. It repeated the text. “Did she gossip about that to everyone?”
Mikey laughed. “Just us, I’m pretty sure. I think she’s just a bit upset about you turning away Junior like that, out of anything.” His smile fell as he glanced at the wall. “I think Junior misses you sometimes.”
Donatello stared at the floor.
“Are you feeling okay?” His little brother ducked into his field of vision. “Need a therapy session?”
A “therapy session” was less of actual therapy and more of Mikey using his mystic abilities to calm Donatello’s stress and anxiety. Sometimes it was flat out necessary, especially in the weeks following the incident. Some of the nightmares would shake him up so bad he couldn’t think straight. Other times something would just trigger the memories during something mundane and he’d fall apart.
He was much better at keeping that under wraps now, but sometimes he’d still turn to his little brother to calm his mind and focus back on what was important.
Still, he shook his head and typed up his excuse on his gauntlet. “Nightmare. Tired this morning. Grouchy. Didn’t want to babysit.”
Mikey hummed, obviously not convinced, but he didn’t argue. “If you say so, but you should still spend time with him again soon. He’s a kid, you know. He’s still looking to us for guidance when his mom isn’t available.”
Donatello knew that, but didn’t think he was someone the kid should look up to.
“And speaking of spending time.” Mikey crossed his arms. “I’ve been talking with our ancestors you know.”
Donatello froze.
“Raph wants to talk to you.”
At those words he spun around in an instant and stomped out the door.
“Huh? Donnie? Hey wait up.”
He didn’t wait. He kept walking, picking up the pace and trying to reach his lab without drawing any attention. Unfortunately that meant not breaking into a sprint, though it wouldn’t matter if he did.
His little brother could fly, after all, and he used that to drift in front of Donatello and cut off his path. “Donnie, wait. Just listen.”
He shook his head and tried to go around him.
But Mikey easily kept up with him. “I don’t understand. Don’t you want to see Raph again?”
No. Because Raph was dead. Because Donatello didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye. Because he was so so afraid that if he allowed himself to look into the afterlife and see the image of his big brother standing in front of him he’d cling to it and never let go. He’d never leave. Or worst of all he’d do whatever it took to properly join him there.
But he didn’t dare voice any of this to his little brother. Donatello simply shoved him to the side and retreated into the lab, locking the doors behind him.
“Donnie?” Mikey called from the outside. “I… okay.” His voice got quiet, almost impossible to hear through the door. “I’ll leave you alone for now then. I hope you feel better.”
With that, nothing but silence followed. Well, except for Donatello’s gasps for air as his lungs suddenly felt starved of oxygen due to the rapid beating of his heart.
He couldn’t look at Raph again, he wouldn’t.
But he knew how his family’s spirits worked, and he may not have a choice.
His hypothesis had been right.
Donatello didn’t know when he fell asleep—because he certainly hadn’t gone to his room—but it must have happened. One moment he was staring at his blurry monitor, attempting to drown his brain in security programming, and the next he glanced up at the familiar sight of their training room in the lair.
At first he excused it as a dream, a bizarre scenario that would play out in his old home, but then he heard his voice.
“Don?”
Immediately his heart wedged itself into his throat. He didn’t want to turn around, all of his limbs going numb, but he still glanced back.
Raphael stood there, looking no different than the day he died. The same scars on his cheeks, on his shoulders, the chip on the back of his shell.
And…
“Glad it worked.” Raph smiled at him and approached. “I was worried you’d keep blocking me out, but I guess the dream trick is something. What’s the deal with ignoring me anyway, haven’t you heard me calling you?”
Donatello had. He felt the familiar tug in his chest and the taps on his brain. Karai used to do it too back in the early days of the war, to let them know she had a message for them.
But he didn’t bother answering that right now. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Raph’s chest, at the indent there, a scar on his plastron where the rebar had torn through him.
“Don?” Raph frowned. “Hey, look—”
As he took a step forward, Donatello jerked back, eyes still fixed on the same spot.
“Donnie, come on, I know this isn’t easy, but you have to—”
He shook his head, at least a dozen times. He tried to look at anything else, at his big brother’s face. He tried for the first time in ages to summon the words, to explain how much it hurt to see him like this. That it was nothing but a reminder of his massive mistake. It was his fault. His big brother died because of him.
He couldn’t look at it. He wouldn’t. He had to wake up.
“Don.” Raph insisted.
Donatello shook his hand and squeezed his eyes shut. Wake up. Wake up.
Big and callous but gentle hands touched his face. Donatello’s eyes snapped open as his head was tilted up to meet his big brother’s gaze.
“It’s okay.” He whispered. “It’s okay.”
Donatello took a deep breath and opened his mouth to scream.
But it didn’t happen. Instead he jerked up in his chair, vision blurry and unfocused. At least the glow of his computer monitor was recognizable even in this state.
He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, trying to breath through the panic that still gripped his chest. Tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to cry.
Something patted his leg and he jumped. He turned to see Casey Jr. staring up at him, eyes wide. Just how did the kid get in here? Only his siblings and the dragons knew the access codes to unlock the lab. Did one of them let him in? Or did the little sneak just memorize the numbers. He was a very sharp kid, after all.
Donatello wiped his eyes again, doing his damndest to pretend he wasn’t about to cry, and then tilted his head.
Casey kept a hand on his leg. “It’s okay.” He said, emphasizing it in the same way that Raph did. “It’s okay.”
Grief gripped his chest all over again.
But this time he didn’t run. Instead he picked Casey up off the ground and set the kid on his lap, holding him close. Casey hugged his arm and sat there in silence.
The warmth was a comfort, and while Donatello still didn’t cry, he let the sadness pass over him.
Casey patted his arm after a while. “Uncle Don?”
He leaned back to tilt his head.
“Can we hang out tomorrow? Promise I won’t mess around too much.”
Donatello finally managed a smile, however small, and ruffled the kid’s hair. Then he typed onto his gauntlet. “How about I show you how to use a staff.”
The kid beamed at him. “Really?”
Donatello nodded twice, for emphasis.
“Yay, mom won’t let me train yet. She keeps saying I’m too young.” He crossed his arms and pouted. “Dumb. She told me she started training when she was seven. Why can’t I?”
Donatello made the sign for a heart.
“I know she does.” Casey rested his head against Donatello’s plastron. “But… I want to be able to protect people too. I don’t want to just be protected.”
Donatello knew the feeling all too well. All the more reason to come to his senses, so that he didn’t slip up on the battlefield ever again.
Even if he still couldn’t bring himself to utter a word, lest the taste of blood return to his mouth.
Donatello glanced at the clock and saw how late it was by this point. He made the sign for bed.
“Not tired.” Casey complained.
He shook his head and picked the kid up as he stood.
“No!” Casey kicked and flailed as he was carried out of the lab and into the hall.
Donatello wouldn’t let him go. He’d return the kid to his mom and then retreat to his own bunk. He should catch up on sleep. Hopefully this time he wouldn’t see his brother’s face again, either as a nightmare or as a spirit.
Though truthfully, by this point, they were practically one and the same.
What a tragic thought.
Just another he wouldn’t vocalize.