*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.
*Special Note: Shout out to my dear friend, CorolineThePheonix, for creating the amazing artwork for this chapter. I love, love, LOVE it!!!
*Author's Notes: Here's Chapter 8 of 'Lost in the Fight' and it contains some classic Raph moments. XD
Thank you to all of you who have taken the time to read, vote on, and comment on 'Lost in the Fight' as well as my other stories. I appreciate it more than I can say. *hugs*
If you are enjoying 'LITF,' please continue to read/vote on/comment on this story so I know that you like it. Your feedback means a lot to me. Thank you so much for reading. ;) CJ
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Chapter 8 - A Sorry State
Leonardo wasn't really sure just how many times he had rapped his knuckles against the door to Donatello's room now, but it had to be getting close to the hundred mark.
"Donnie, I know you can hear me. Please open the door. We just want to talk to you," Leo pleaded yet again, laying the sweetness on extra thick. Anything to get his genius brother to say something. The oldest turtle had been standing outside of Donatello's door for about fifteen minutes now and he was starting to feel a little silly talking to the large arched doorway.
Still no response followed.
Leo was seriously starting to wonder why he kept knocking over and over again. It wasn't like Donnie didn't know that they were there, but for some reason, the turtle in blue still felt obligated to knock each time before he spoke. Maybe it was because he knew that his most considerate and polite brother would extend him the same courtesy if the situation was reversed.
"Please, Donnie . . . I know that we messed up, big time, and I don't blame you for not wanting to see us, but could you please let us come in? If only just for a minute . . . We'd rather apologize to you face-to-face." Leo's voice cracked with emotion as he attempted to persuade his brainy brother to allow them entrance. He didn't want to just go barging into Donnie's room like his other brothers probably would have. After what Leo had done to make his genius brother lock himself inside of his bedroom, he felt duty-bound to respect his brother's bid for privacy, but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to sit down beside Donnie and tell him how sorry he was.
For everything . . .
And so, Leo knocked again.
Raph leaned his shell against the wall outside of Donnie's room and tipped his head back, looking up at the ceiling impatiently. He so wasn't cut out for this waiting around crap. If he would have had his way, they would have busted down the door about fourteen minutes ago. After all, they already had plenty of things to ask for forgiveness for at this point. What would be the harm in adding a broken bedroom door to the list? The only reason that Raphael hadn't kicked the door down yet was because Leonardo had insisted that they not do anything to further upset Donnie, and since Raph had just agreed to set his differences with Leo aside for their brainiac brother's sake, he figured he should at least try to get along with his older brother for the time being. Plus, Raph knew that Master Splinter would skin him alive if he ruined yet another door in the lair, and he was already on his father's bad side as it was.
Heaving out an audible exhale to express his disapproval of their current situation, Raph rolled his eyes skyward, and then, cranked his head towards Leo. The hotheaded turtle was about to complain once more, but he thought better of it when he saw the crushed expression on his older brother's face.
Leonardo had his right hand pressed against Donnie's door and his head slumped forward, looking down at the floor in utter defeat.
There was no doubt in Raph's mind that his older brother was beating himself up inside for all that had happened.
Typical Leo, trying to make himself a martyr for anything that goes wrong . . .
It drove Raph crazy that his older brother felt this heroic need to suffer for every stinking cause there was, as if he were singlehandedly at fault for everything that was wrong with the world – Shredder, the Kraang, global warming, endangered species, hip-hop pants . . . everything. It was as if Leo thrived off of being in pain. Perhaps he suffered from some sort of strange medical condition where he actually enjoyed mental torment. Raph wondered if maybe Donnie and that big brain of his could diagnose whatever it was and get the 'fearless' leader some pills to fix it.
Then, maybe we wouldn't have to put up with Saint Leonardo anymore . . .
Of course, Donnie wouldn't be able to diagnose or fix anything if he refused to come out of his room for the rest of his life.
This is stupid, Raph thought, cracking his joints impatiently. He then sidestepped over to the door and pounded on it with both fists.
On the off chance that Donnie had been sleeping, Leo had been trying to be a bit more subtle in his approach, so as not to startle his unwell brother.
Unfortunately, Raphael was the polar opposite of subtle. If Leo had to venture a comparison, he would say that Raph was to subtle and restrained as Shredder was to cute and cuddly.
"Aw, come on, Donnie! Open up! Lame-O-nardo here's gonna start crying pretty soon if you don't!" Raph howled, thumping on the door some more.
Leo glared over at his immediate younger brother, nonverbally letting him know that his usual boorish way of handling things was not helping matters any.
In response to his older brother's glare, Raph simply shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'What?' He didn't think that he had done anything to warrant such an expression. Heck, he had actually thought that his intentions had been fairly good for a change. After all, he hadn't lost his temper, cursed, or punched anything yet, other than the door. That was a feat in and of itself. He had figured that Leo would be impressed with his self-control, not offended by it.
As Raph just stood there staring at him, Leonardo began to make a bunch of hand signals, clearly trying to convey some sort of silent message, but the red-clad turtle was not following the wordless clues. He must have missed these gestures in the ninja playbook. Either that or Leo was once again working under the false assumption that everyone was on the same wavelength as him.
Wrinkling his face up in confusion, Raph shook his head from side to side to indicate that he did not understand what it was that Leo was trying to communicate to him. Still, the ninja in blue continued to play his undecipherable little game of charades, making Raph throw his hands up in aggravation.
Now, it was Leonardo's turn to shake his head.
"Try being nice," Leo attempted to whisper, but it came out more like a hissing noise due to his frustration with Raph's inability to read his sign language.
"I was," Raph hissed back, immediately tensing up.
So much for setting their differences aside . . .
With a scowl strewn across his face, Leonardo quietly, but sullenly asked, "How is that being nice?"
Raph let out a muffled growl, making sure that Donnie wouldn't hear it from the other side of the door.
"Fine," the hothead snorted out, and then, he tried talking to his brainiac brother again. "Mikey's worried about you, Donnie. Master Splinter is, too." As Raph spoke, he did his best to sound reassuring, but it came off sounding rather awkward and painful. Almost like he was being forced to speak . . . or like he was constipated.
Leo motioned for Raph to keep going, further testing the temperamental turtle's patience with his continued hand gesturing. Raph had a particular hand gesture in mind that he was considering flipping at his big brother. However, he opted to keep his obscene gesture to himself, assuming that doing something that could potentially instigate another argument between he and Leo would sort of defeat their purpose for being there. Plus, if they started fighting again, Sensei would de-shell them for sure.
"We're . . . we're all real worried about you, Donnie," Raph said, his voice getting more sincere as he went on. He paused for a moment before saying, "I'm . . . I'm worried about you, Donnie. I'm sorry for hurting you, little brother. I was a total jerk and I'm sorry, okay? Please, Donnie . . . Let us come in."
In the history of apologies, Raph's rare and feeble attempts at asking for forgiveness had to go down in the record books as some of the worst of all time. They all knew from experience that the turtle in red was lousy at admitting he was wrong and saying he was sorry, but this particular apology did not suck nearly as much as his normal attempts at apologizing. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the best of the best, Leo would have given it a solid seven, which meant that Raph must have been feeling really, really bad about what he had done, for it had been years since he had scored anything higher than a three.
Leo gave Raph an enthusiastic thumbs up, but the younger turtle was quick to slap the hand away in annoyance, as one would a bothersome insect buzzing around them. Raph was pretty sure that his older brother was the biggest dork on the planet.
In the meantime, Donatello's room remained silent, even after Raph's above average apology.
"Donnie, we're trying to apologize here," Raph groaned and he jiggled the handle of the door, hoping that it might inspire his younger brother to finally let them in. It was then that Raphael noticed that the door to Donnie's room was not locked.
The red-masked turtle glanced back over his shoulder at Leo for a moment before pushing the door open.
Raph entered the bedroom with much less swagger and confidence than normal, afraid of what kind of state that his little brother would be in when they found him. He wasn't sure if Donnie would be angry, depressed, sick, crying, or maybe a combination of the four.
Once inside, Raphael's green eyes swept over the room. There were miscellaneous gadgets, projects, text books, and magazines scattered on the random pieces of wooden furniture in the small space, which came as no surprise. Raph had expected to see these things, but what he hadn't expected to see was that Donnie's bed was neatly made and the laptop on his nightstand was in power-saving mode, telling him that the genius turtle hadn't used it for a while. That was because the genius turtle wasn't in his room.
"What the shell? I just apologized for nothing? He isn't even in here!" Raph growled in obvious disgust and his hands clenched into fists.
Paying no attention to Raph's grumbling, Leo glanced around the room nervously. There was no sign that Donatello had been there anytime recently. The oldest turtle suddenly got an uneasy feeling that something was very, very wrong. It had been at least a half hour or more – maybe even pushing an hour – since their injured brother had run off to what they had assumed was his room. Standing there in the Donnie-less space made Leo's heart sink like a boulder.
"Maybe he snuck into his lab," Leonardo thought out loud. He was trying desperately to convince himself that Donnie had somehow managed to slip past all of them and was just down in his laboratory, tinkering away on things, but the pit of the oldest brother's gut was telling him otherwise. There was an unsettling feeling of horror rapidly growing inside of him.
Leo wasn't the only turtle in the room starting to panic . . .
Without exchanging another word, the two oldest brothers then sprinted towards the lab.
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If Donatello ever went into any kind of junkyard-related vocation, he would make it his personal mission in commerce to organize things so as to make the business more user-friendly. Even if the namesake of the establishment implied that it was just a bunch of junk, there was no logical reason why there couldn't be some semblance of order to said 'junk.' Besides, not everyone who frequented such facilities thought of the contents inside as actual 'junk.' The turtle in purple was a prime example of this. What he saw in the discarded merchandise before him was limitless potential.
After all, one man's trash is another turtle's treasure . . . Donnie quipped to himself as he eagerly gazed at the 'treasures' that stretched out as far as the eye could see.
As he stood there staring ahead, a sudden unidentifiable noise from behind the genius turtle then startled him out of his thoughts and abruptly pulled him back into reality. With lightning fast speed, Donatello spun around and instantly assumed a defensive position, preparing for an incoming attack. He then set eyes upon his foe. A vicious, heartless, terrifying . . .
Hubcap?
Yes, it had been nothing more than a hubcap. Presumably, the wind or gravity itself had dislodged it from a pile of junk and the rusty wheel cover had rolled to a stop just a little ways from where the panicked turtle was now standing.
Donnie's already rosy cheeks darkened with humiliation as he realized that a hubcap had just managed to get the drop on him, nearly sending him into cardiac arrest in the process.
Some ninja I am . . .
The small consolation was that no one had been around to witness the rather embarrassing incident.
Donnie was certainly grateful that his 'adversary' had turned out to be an inanimate object and not the junkyard owner out making their rounds, like he had initially assumed when he had first heard the noise.
The turtle in purple really had no desire to run into the property-owner of the land that he was currently trespassing on. Not just because he didn't want to get caught, but also because he had always been a little scared of people who owned and operated junkyards. This was no doubt thanks to the television and film industry, which had created the stereotype that junkyard landlords were typically toothless, dim-witted whackjobs with a heavy drawal. Donnie's preconceived mental image of such individuals was that they donned filthy bib overalls and a ratty old baseball cap while toting around a loaded shotgun as they roamed the premises with their ferocious guard dog, named either Rufus or Cletus, who only knew the command 'sick 'em.' While Donatello was almost positive that this was a wholly erroneous and unfair typecast of junkyard proprietors, he had never felt a pressing need to test that hypothesis. He preferred keeping it an unsolved mystery and staying undetected by humans.
Still slightly spooked by the auto part altercation, Donnie drew in a couple of ragged breaths in an attempt to settle himself down and dampen his paranoia. He had a sudden nagging feeling that someone was watching him, but he knew that his suspicions were just a result of his overactive imagination, which had been fueled by the whole hubcap scare.
Once he was calm enough to move again, he made a quick mental note to be more aware of his surroundings before he went back to searching the grounds.
Donnie was presently standing at the bottom of a rather huge mound of tangled scrap metal and miscellaneous clutter. He looked up in wide-eyed wonder, not even sure where to begin. Finding the right parts in a mountain of twisted and knotted debris was going to be about as easy as finding a needle in a haystack, and there were dozens of haystacks to go through. The odds of him finding the particular parts that he needed were somewhat astronomical, but he didn't mind so much. The longer it took him to find what he was searching for, the increased likelihood of him finding a wide variety of other items that he didn't even know he was searching for. He always managed to come home with at least a couple of bonus finds on his scavenger hunts.
Tonight was no exception.
He had already rummaged through a couple of smaller piles of salvage and failed to find any of the items on his short shopping list, but he had managed to find a like-new set of front brake pads for the Stealth Bike and a decent pair of strut assemblies with coil springs and upper mounts for the Shellraiser. These parts alone had made the trip worthwhile and he couldn't disguise that he was a tad giddy over the lucky finds. Had his brothers been there, they would have made fun of him for acting like a kid in a candy store.
At the mere thought of his brothers, Donnie's moment of giddiness died instantly and his expression contorted into a grimace. His siblings were probably still on the receiving end of an epic lecture from Master Splinter. His father did not look at all pleased when he had last seen him and an angered Master Splinter was a longwinded Master Splinter. When Sensei got on a roll, some of his lectures could go on for what felt like decades.
Donnie let out a rough sigh, which inadvertently caused him to cough several times in order to clear his airway. While he did so, he could see his breath dance about in front of his face in wispy puffs due to the cold night air. He was not sure what was making him shiver more: the chilly temperature outside or the fever plaguing him inside. He vigorously rubbed his hands together, hoping to generate some friction, and subsequently, some much-needed body heat. He would have to head back soon or he would develop hypothermia on top of everything else that ailed him.
Going home was something that he was definitely not looking forward to.
In hindsight, he probably should have never left the lair. More importantly, he probably should have at least told someone that he was leaving. That was an oversight his family wasn't going to take very lightly . . .
Donnie wasn't quite sure what he had been thinking when he had bolted out of the lair without bothering to let his family know where he was going. In actuality, he hadn't been thinking at all. After what had happened, his mind hadn't exactly been firing on all cylinders. Leaving had just seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but the farther from home that he had gone, the more he had questioned his decision to leave. He was suffering from multiple injuries, his body ached all over, he was coming down with some kind of illness or infection, and now, he was freezing cold.
He wasn't about to deny that it hadn't really been the ideal time to go out on a parts run, but by the time that his brain had started functioning properly again, he had already reached the scrap yard.
His family was going to be beyond ticked off at him when they discovered that he had left without saying a word or even leaving a note. Especially after everything that had transpired the past few days. Apparently, the lesson from all of this had been lost on him, for there he was, off on his own, seemingly trying to repeat the same mistake that had led to this whole mess to begin with.
I guess they're right. I really am stupid . . .
The voices in his head chimed in without sympathy.
"I expect that kind of reckless behavior from Raph, but not you. You're supposed to be the smart one."
"You weren't thinking, Donnie. Not at all."
The coldness in the words made him shiver even worse than he already was.
He wrapped his arms around his torso for warmth and winced at the pain that the motion caused his shoulder. He then gazed at the bandages that he had carelessly slapped over the gash made by Raph's sai. The blood seeping through the dressings served as a painful reminder of why he had fled the lair in the first place. His shoulder probably needed stitches, but in his haste to leave, he had instead grabbed a handful of bandages from the infirmary and thrown them into his duffle bag before departing the lair. When he had arrived at the junkyard, he had done a quickie patch job on the injury, knowing full well that the laceration was going to require further medical treatment. He would have to ask Master Splinter to help him treat the wound properly when he got back to the lair, as he most likely would not be able to stitch it on his own.
Again, he found himself dreading his return home and the severe scolding that was sure to follow.
Maybe it would be best if I just didn't go home at all . . . Maybe everyone would be better off . . .
Donatello immediately shook his head, pushing those awful thoughts into the farthest recesses of his brain, ashamed that they had even crossed his mind. He then forced himself to think about something else – anything else! Not surprisingly, he found himself wondering about his brothers.
He was guessing that they had probably decided to skip patrol for the night. After all, his older brothers had just tried to kill each other. Something told him that that had most likely scratched going out for a night on the town together off of their list of things to do for the evening.
Each of his brothers had their own unique way of coping with the aftermath of a fight.
Of course Raph's way of dealing with things was to get angry.
No real shocker there . . .
Odds were that once Master Splinter finished with his lecture, Raph would stomp off to his room or storm out of the lair in a huff to go off and brood somewhere. Sometimes, when Raph got his bandana ruffled, he'd head to the surface to roam the rooftops solo, or worse, he'd hook up with Casey Jones. The two of them would go out looking for trouble just to blow off some pent-up steam. It didn't seem like the most constructive way to cool one's jets, but if beating the tar out of some Foot Soldiers, Purple Dragons, or Kraangdroids made his highly volatile big brother simmer down, Donnie supposed he shouldn't question it. Whatever kept the hotheaded turtle from using them as the objects of his aggression was in all of their best interests.
Then, there was Leo. Following a fight with his siblings, the oldest turtle would either retire to his room to practice his meditation techniques, or he would head off to the Dojo to do some katas. His way of coping with discord was to train even harder so that he could make himself a better leader.
Leo was constantly second-guessing his abilities as a leader, and to him, any form of conflict between his brothers was an indicator of incompetence on his part. He took his role as the team leader much more seriously than any of his brothers would have, which was probably why Master Splinter had been so quick to grant Leonardo's request to be in charge of the team. The problem was, ever since Leo had taken command, his personality had changed to suit his new role. When it came to learning the art of Ninjutsu, Leonardo had always been the most disciplined and committed of the brothers, but now that he was the designated leader, he lived and breathed Ninjutsu, wanting nothing more than to personify it, if only to please his father. The blue-clad ninja relentlessly trained, studied, and strategized, forever striving to be the epitome of leadership.
While Donnie technically didn't think that there was anything wrong with being that dedicated to a cause, it seemed like lately, his oldest sibling had forgotten how to lighten up and have fun anymore. Actually, it seemed like lately, Leo had forgotten how to be their brother anymore. Becoming the ideal leader had become more important to him.
Just thinking about how Leo couldn't remember how to lighten up and have fun made Donnie's thoughts immediately turn to his younger brother. Unlike Leonardo, Mikey was all about fun.
After a fight between his brothers, Mikey . . . Well, he just did his 'Mikey' thing, acting like nothing had happened. Donnie could never fully understand how his baby brother could do it. How he could just let things slide, like they hadn't even come to pass. How he could stay so perpetually upbeat and optimistic, as though he didn't have a care in the world. Donnie envied that about Mikey. He truly did.
But as positive and easygoing as the youngest turtle was, he was also the one who would always get the most upset when one of his brothers was hurt. Mikey may have been able to shut off the troubles of the outside world and tune out sibling rivalries, but when a member of the family was harmed or in danger, the turtle in orange was the first to fall apart, not afraid to let his emotions run rampant.
Donnie flinched at the realization that once his family became aware that he was not there, Mikey would completely freak out and it would be all his fault.
Way to go, Genius . . .
On top of everything else that had gone horribly wrong that night, Donnie had now gone and done something that could possibly traumatize his younger brother. The same brother who had done nothing but try to help him . . . Mikey didn't deserve to be hurt like that.
Donnie's thoughts then turned to his father and how distressed he was going to be when he found out that he had run off without so much as a word. Like Mikey, Master Splinter certainly didn't deserve to be worried by his irresponsible actions, either. He, too, had only been trying to help.
And the award for outstanding achievement in being the worst son and brother category goes to . . . Donnie groaned in his head, mentally reprimanding himself for his bad decision.
His older brothers' voices were back once again to criticize him . . .
"What the shell were you thinking?"
"It was a stupid move, Donatello. Stupid!"
They were right . . . What he had done was stupid . . . He was stupid . . . And selfish . . .
Again, he should have never left the lair . . .
Donnie had get back home as soon as possible before he caused any more damage. He didn't want his family worrying about him and he most certainly didn't want them to go out looking for him. The last thing that he needed on his already guilty conscience was for something to happen to them while they were out searching for him. He couldn't stand the thought of one of them possibly getting hurt because he had made yet another mistake.
"Mistakes are something we cannot afford right now, Donatello."
"What you did was incredibly dangerous and stupid, all right. Here I thought Mikey was the bonehead of the family."
Donnie closed his eyes as his brothers' words cut deeper, but he only allowed himself to focus on his despair for a fleeting moment. He couldn't waste any more time on feeling sorry for himself. What he needed to focus on was getting back to his family. Maybe there was still a chance that they hadn't actually noticed that he was missing yet. Maybe, just maybe, he could get back to the lair before they even realized that he was gone and sneak inside without detection. Being a ninja and all, he certainly possessed the skills to do so.
Then, as if to further stress the necessity to return home, a nasty coughing fit seized hold of him without warning. Bending forward slightly, he covered his mouth with one hand and held onto his sore chest with his other as the air uncontrollably expelled from his lungs. As near as he could tell, his body was trying to exorcise his internal organs.
Once the violent hacking spell subsided, Donnie stood there wheezing, patiently waiting for his breathing to return to somewhat normal. After a few seconds or so, taking in air came slightly easier, although he could still hear and feel a faint rattle in his chest. The doctor part of him was assessing his mounting symptoms, but now was not the time to be diagnosing what was wrong with him. He could worry about that when he got back to the lair.
Hiking his duffle bag strap further up on his good shoulder, Donatello took one last look around and turned to head back towards the exit of the junkyard. He had only taken a few steps forward when he heard something move behind him once again, which made him stop in his tracks.
This time, the noise had definitely not been made by an inanimate object.
A chill slithered up and down Donatello's spine, and it wasn't from the cold of the night or the fever ravaging his body.
Over the sounds of the howling wind and the various creaks and moans resounding throughout the junkyard, Donnie could distinctly hear footsteps approaching him, and he was sure that they weren't from any of his brothers.
Whoever it was had kept perfectly silent as they moved within striking distance of him, and now that they had seen that he was motioning to leave, they were suddenly making no attempts to conceal their advances. This someone or something had been stalking him, perhaps the whole time that he had been there, just waiting for the right time to make their move.
The genius turtle mentally cursed himself, realizing that he should have trusted his gut earlier when he had suspected that someone was watching him instead of just chalking it up to his imagination.
As the footsteps drew closer, Donnie instinctively pulled his bo-staff out of the sheath on his back and readied himself for a confrontation.
He had a bad feeling that whoever or whatever it was coming towards him wasn't the least bit friendly . . .
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To be continued . . .
*Author's Notes: Uh-oh! Donnie's in trouble . . .
As always, please continue to read/vote on/comment on 'Lost in the Fight' if you like it. I would really love to know. Thanks for reading. ;) CJ