*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise.
*Author's Notes: Chapter 31 of 'Lost in the Fight' is here and it's a bittersweet one. *Warning: there will be B Team fluff.
A big thanks to everyone for reading, voting on, and/or commenting on this story, as well as my other stories. It truly means the world to me. 😊
Okay, onto the chapter!
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Chapter 31 - Collateral Damage
"Whatcha working on, D?" Mikey asked, bursting into his brainy brother's laboratory in his usual flamboyant fashion. In his hands, he gripped a jumbo-sized bag of oily, off-brand potato chips, which explained the crunching sound that Donnie had immediately heard upon his baby brother's entrance. After shoveling another jam-packed fistful of chips into his mouth, Mikey took the liberty to wipe his hand, first across his plastron, and then, on the large table beside Donnie's desk.
Turning his head towards his worktable, Donnie glared at the greasy fingerprints Mikey had so thoughtfully left behind for him to clean up. The genius turtle really hated it when his younger brother came into the lab with food, but he really, really hated it when Mikey came into the lab with potato chips. Partly, because his messy little brother got crumbs all over the place, but mostly, because the crinkling and crackling sound of the chip bag drove Donnie to the brink of insanity.
On a normal day, the smartest turtle would have chewed his baby brother out, and then, used either his bo-staff, or whatever blunt object was within his reach at the time, to chase Mikey out of the laboratory, but the days were no longer normal. Donnie was hardly in any kind of condition to go chasing someone around. The best he could do right now was run Mikey's foot over with one of the tires of his wheelchair or ram him in the shins really hard with his footrests. A slight smirk passed Donnie's features when he thought about Mikey hopping about on one leg after becoming the victim of a senseless wheelchair hit and run.
But as quickly as the smirk had appeared, it just as soon faded away the second that Donnie peered up and saw his happy-go-lucky brother's round, freckled face and sparkling blue eyes. Mikey's smile was as big as they came.
A ripple of guilt swept over Donnie when he reflected on the mean thoughts that he had just been mulling over. Although the unkind thoughts had only lasted a moment or two, and he had had no actual intention of ever acting upon them, he still felt guilty for even having them.
You're supposed to be the nonviolent one, remember?
"Hey, Mikey. I was just doing some research on how I might be able to upgrade the SONAR dome and the inertial guidance system on the Turtle Sub to enhance our navigation and detection capabilities. Then, maybe we won't have another surprise run-in with a Kraang sea monster. Plus, I've been looking at articles on pressure hull repair. The hull on the sub took quite a bit damage on our last little deep sea escapade. I may have to replace some of the electronic equipment, as well as the eductor piping to make sure we don't have any pressurization problems. I just hope that the ballast tanks didn't take on any damage, or next time we take the sub, we're gonna have some serious buoyancy issues." After finishing his exceptionally longwinded answer, Donnie rubbed a thumb and forefinger into his weary eyes. He had been staring at his computer screen for three consecutive hours now and it was getting hard to see straight.
For once, Donnie actually welcomed the disruption from one of his brothers. As much of a workaholic as the genius turtle was, he had to admit, he could definitely use a break. He peered up at Mikey from behind his computer monitor and grinned. It was then that he saw the puzzled expression on his little brother's face. Mikey was staring at him as though he had sprouted fairy wings and grown a third eye in the center of his forehead.
"Uh, yeah . . . Could you do me a solid and dumben that down a couple notches for me? Maybe make it a little more Englishy and a lot less sciency."
Thinking back to what he had said, Donnie's best guess was that he had lost his younger brother not long after the words, "Hey, Mikey."
"I'm trying to figure out how to fix the Turtle Sub, Mikey," Donnie said languidly, trying his best to keep his exasperation out of his voice.
"Ahhh, gotcha!" The youngest turtle immediately followed his sentence with two thumbs up to indicate he was on the same page.
The problem was, Donnie was pretty sure that he and Mikey weren't on the same book.
In desperate need of a change of scenery, Donatello began the painful process of scooting himself away from his desk and over to the worktable that Mikey was presently leaning against. Having just polished off his package of chips, the turtle in orange was now noisily sucking the salt from his fingertips. Again, Donnie forced himself to hide his exasperation while he just kept on with his scooting.
Even though the genius turtle's arm was now sheathed in a heavy sling, rather than taped securely to his plastron, it still made using his wheelchair in the traditional way an impossibility. And so he had developed a clumsy, but effective, technique for maneuvering himself around. It involved using his good leg to push and pull himself along while alternating between using one of his bo-staffs and the push rings on the tires of his wheelchair to steer.
After only a few days of practice, Donnie was starting to get the hang of piloting his new chair around, so long as he was on a flat surface. Stairs had proven to be his Achilles' heel, and as turtle luck would have it, the lair was laden with them. Stairs to the Dojo, stairs to the laboratory, stairs to the bedrooms, stairs to the turnstiles – Everywhere he tried to go, there were stairs to strip him of his dignity and independence.
The limitations of Donnie's wheelchair forced him to still rely on his family to carry him to most rooms in the lair. Yes, he was thrilled that he was no longer restricted to his cot during the day, but he was still unable to roam freely about in his own home without asking someone for help, which was utterly humiliating. Especially when he had to ask them to lug him to the bathroom.
Donnie had practically begged for a crutch to hobble around on, but his family had gently refused the request, claiming that he wasn't strong enough to support his own weight yet. Instead, they had done most of the supporting of his weight. That was why Donnie now spent most of his time hidden away in his lab. It was the only place where he could get around without having to be carried around like a helpless baby.
He was tired of being a burden to everyone . . .
Not wanting to get caught up in wallowing in his own self-pity again, Donnie focused his attention back on Mikey, who was currently in the process of discarding his empty chip bag into the lab's hazardous waste container.
Donnie was about to complain when he thought better of it.
Eh, that's probably where those things actually belong . . .
It was at this point that Donnie noticed the bandages on Mikey's forearm. His view of the injury had previously been obstructed by his computer screen and his baby brother's bag of chips.
"Mikey, what happened to your arm?" The brainiac turtle's voice came out in that shrill tone that he used whenever he was worried about something or someone.
"What?" Mikey asked casually, staring down at his arm as though he didn't have the foggiest clue what Donnie was referring to, but once the younger turtle saw the bandages, he instantly realized why his big brother was all spun up into a tizzy. "Oh, that. We had a little run in with a few Purple Dragons last night and one of them grazed me with a cleaver. No biggie. Leo stitched it up and it's good as new." Holding out his arm, Mikey showed off their oldest brother's handiwork. He then rotated his wrist and wiggled his fingers to prove to his brainy brother that his arm and hand were in satisfactory working order.
The expression on Donnie's face was the very personification of dejection, but only for a second, before he hid his emotions again.
"Leo . . . h – he stitched your arm up?"
"Mmm-hmm. Leo's got a real knack for the doctoring gig." Little did Mikey know, he had just inadvertently stabbed Donnie straight through the heart with those words.
Donnie's gaze veered towards the sling draped over his shoulder, effectively keeping his arm immobilized. Even if Mikey would've come to him for help with his injury, there wasn't a whole lot that Donnie could've done for him, but it still hurt that his baby brother hadn't sought him out nonetheless.
It was just another blow to Donatello's already bruised self-esteem.
"Yeah, Leo's a quick understudy," Donnie muttered with a half-smile. All the while, he was still staring at his nonfunctional arm with an expression intended to be blank, but try as he may, the genius turtle could never hide things from his younger brother the way that he could from the others. Even though Mikey wasn't all that observant a lot of the time, he could always tell when something was bothering Donnie.
"You okay, D? You've been kind of down in the dumps the past couple of days. Do you wanna talk about it?" As Mikey posed that last question, he climbed up on top of Donnie's worktable and made himself comfortable, lifting his legs up and crossing them front of him.
An urge to yell at Mikey for placing his dirty feet on his lab table flicked through Donnie's mind, but it dissolved as rapidly as it had arisen. Donnie already had to wash the greasy fingerprints off the tabletop anyway. Besides, after all that had happened, Mikey was the last turtle Donnie wanted to take his frustrations out on. His baby brother had been his saving grace the past week or so. Of all of his family members and friends, Mikey was the only one who didn't look at him with pity or as though he was broken down and in need of a complete overhaul. His little brother was the one living being who didn't treat him like he was damaged goods. Mikey treated him the same way that he always had . . . like he was still the same turtle as before.
Even if Donnie wasn't really that same turtle, it still felt nice to have someone treat him as though he was.
Donatello peered up at his baby brother and soon discovered that he had Michelangelo's exclusive attention, which made the wounded turtle nervously shift about in his wheelchair. Mikey was leaning over the edge of the table, staring intently down at his older brother, just waiting for him to say something. As antsy and unfocused as the youngest turtle was a majority of the time, there were times that he exhibited the patience of a saint.
"I'm fine, Mikey."
Narrowing his eyes into distrustful slits, Mikey watched as Donnie redistributed his weight back and forth in his chair and darted his gaze arbitrarily throughout the laboratory. It was obvious to the youngest turtle that Donnie was trying to hide something from him. Mikey knew for a fact that his brainy brother was the complete opposite of fine. Yes, the orange-masked ninja was well-aware that he wasn't the cleverest turtle in the sewers, but he was also aware that he didn't have to be a rocket scientist to tell that his big brother was not all fine and dandy.
"No, you're not, Donnie! Don't give me that 'I'm fine, Mikey' baloney that you always do when you're upset about something and don't wanna talk about it! I know you better than anyone, D, and I can see something's bothering you! Now spill it!" Mikey practically growled out the words, exhibiting far more indignation than Donnie had been prepared for. The genius turtle expected that kind of bitterness to come from Raph, but certainly not from his optimistic and carefree baby brother.
Again, Donnie found himself thanking his lucky stars for Mikey.
The genius turtle was sick and tired of being treated like he was made of the world's thinnest sheet of glass. All of the mechanical smiles and disparaging pats on the head and limbs that Donnie was now the constant recipient of were driving him crazy. He felt like a mindless house pet.
With a tad more light in his eyes, Donatello looked up at his younger brother. Finally, the injured turtle was about tell someone what he was feeling inside, but just as he was about to speak, Raph strolled into the lab, complacency pouring off him as he approached his two little brothers.
"Hey, Donnie! How you feeling this morning?" The hotheaded turtle asked, not actually giving his brother an opportunity to answer the question before he continued speaking in his most arrogant tone. "So was Mikey here telling you about the serious shell kicking I handed him at practice this morning? It was so inspiring, we should've charged admission."
Donnie scrunched up his face for a moment before responding.
"Wow, you beat up Mikey when he was injured. Way to go, Raph. I'm sure it was real impressive." The snide remarks instantly extinguished the glow of the red-masked turtle's ego.
At a rare loss for a snappy comeback, Raph just grunted in retaliation.
"Oh snap, D! He's totally speechless, dude! How sweet is that?" Beside himself with uncontrollable glee, Mikey laughed so hard, he practically fell off the table he was sitting on.
"Keep laughing, chuckles, and I'll kick your injured butt, again!" Raph threatened, shaking a forefinger in Mikey's direction.
That stubby green finger caused Mikey to cower in fear, and just like that, all of his glee and laughter evaporated into thin air.
"And here I thought it was just Mikey's arm that was injured. I guess I didn't realize that his butt was injured, too," Donnie wisecracked with a sly grin, in an attempt to lighten the mood and protect his younger brother from another possible pummeling.
"Apparently, someone else is itching for a butt kicking, as well!"
The trusting part of Donnie assumed that even temperamental Raph wouldn't resort to clobbering him when he was in a wheelchair, but the cautious side of him kept telling him that his immediate older brother was highly unstable. They had just established that Raphael had no misgivings about pounding on Mikey when he was injured. Who was to say that he wouldn't have any qualms about doing the same thing to Donnie?
The genius turtle thought it best not to push any more of Raph's buttons for the time being, just to be on the safe side.
There then came an uncomfortable lull in the conversation. Raph's latest threat left Donnie and Mikey unsure of what to say, for fear of setting their volatile big brother off. The three turtles' eyes wandered around the room aimlessly until Mikey finally put an end to the silence.
"So did you eat anything yet, Donnie?" The youngest turtle looked down at his debilitated older brother's scrawny form. A lightweight throw blanket was sloppily draped over Donatello's lap, leaving his legs mostly exposed so Mikey could see just how horribly withered they were. Size-wise, Donnie looked like half the turtle he used to be. Mikey was convinced that his big brother's shell was going to fall right off him, even though Donnie kept telling him that that wasn't physically possible.
It was killing Mikey to see Donnie this way. His brainy brother was literally wasting away before their very eyes.
"Uh-huh. Leo brought me one of those nutritional shakes before you guys started practice this morning," Donnie said in a suspiciously casual way as he all of a sudden started scooting his wheelchair back towards his desk.
"Oh yeah? Which nutritional shake would that be?" Crossing his arms in front of him, Raphael raised an eye ridge, clearly skeptical about something.
"You know . . . just one of those supplemental drinks that April dropped off yesterday. Doctor-recommended and loaded with twenty-plus essential vitamins and minerals for a stronger, healthier you." The words were purposely spoken in a manner that made it sound like Donnie was providing a voiceover for a television commercial. He then followed with an awkward chuckle. In the meantime, he was still subtly trying to make his way over to his desk.
Raph's eyes narrowed into nothing more than slivers.
"You mean this one?" Sidestepping around his brother's wheelchair, Raphael grabbed the milkshake sitting on top of Donnie's desk before his injured brother could reach it. The second oldest turtle then held the beverage up to reveal the plastic peel-off seal was still intact.
Watching his older brother jiggle the clearly unopened container before him, Donnie retreated against the backrest of his wheelchair and dropped his head in shame.
"Donnie!" Mikey gasped in theatrical fashion, acting as if Donnie had done something so hideous and atrocious, he would never in a million years be able to forgive him.
Donnie hardly thought him not drinking a milkshake justified such a melodramatic response. It was a classic case of Mikey overreacting.
Raph's reaction, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of over-the-top. It was unnervingly calm.
This sent a shiver up and down the wounded turtle's spine. It was like the eerie quiet before a storm.
"Donnie, you have to eat." The mild tone of Raph's voice threw both Donnie and Mikey for a loop. They had anticipated anger, not kindness and concern. It was certainly not the reaction Donnie was used to receiving from his confrontational big brother. Here, the brainiac turtle had thought that he was about to get his shell handed to him on a serving platter.
Thinnest of glass, remember?
After swallowing thickly, Donnie whispered out the words, "I know." He then lowered his head and started to tap his fingertips against the padding on one of the armrests of his wheelchair, clearly avoiding eye contact with his red-clad brother.
"Donnie, you're nothing but skin and bones. I don't wanna lecture you like Leo, but you're not gonna get better if you don't take care of yourself. And if you don't eat, Fearless is gonna banish you to that dumb cot again and put you back on fluids twenty-four seven."
After Raph's last line, Donnie found himself staring down at the capped off cannula taped to his arm. He was still being given liquid antibiotics and nutrients via an intravenous drip at night, but during the day, they would remove his tubes on the condition that he regularly took his medications and ate three meals a day, but he was still struggling to keep anything down. Hence, the intravenous drip at night and the food aversion.
Still, what Raph had said was true. If Leonardo found out Donnie wasn't properly eating or drinking, there would no doubt be dire consequences.
"I tried . . . I really did . . . but I . . . I couldn't break the seal . . . with only one hand," Donnie stammered out, somehow slouching even further down into his wheelchair than he already was. In his mind, what he had just confessed was the equivalent of telling his brothers he was completely helpless. The humiliation in his voice and his posture were unmistakable and he suddenly looked as though he was about to cry.
It was gut-wrenching to say the least.
Gulping down a whimper, the youngest turtle vaulted off the table he was perched on so he could rush over to his brainy brother's side.
"It's okay to ask us for help, Donnie. You know that, right?"
While Mikey attempted to comfort Donatello, Raph glared down at the plastic container still in his hand and nearly crushed it in his muscular grip. He was half-tempted to throw the stupid container on the floor and stomp on it for upsetting his genius little brother, but then, he realized that smashing an innocent bottle wasn't going to solve anything.
Instead of resorting to violence, like he so wanted to, Raph simply removed the plastic from around the mouth of the beverage container and untwisted the cap. Once he detached the inner seal and could see the liquid inside, Raph held the bottle out in front of Donnie.
All the while Raph had gone about removing the safety precautions from the container, he had been mentally condemning Leo for not doing the same. It would have spared Donnie the embarrassment and heartbreak of not being able to complete the simplest of tasks on his own. They were supposed to be building their genius brother's confidence back up, not knocking it further down.
"We only wanna help you, Donnie. Whenever you need something, all you've gotta do is ask."
Though Donatello desperately wanted to appreciate the sentiment, the uncharacteristic sweetness in Raphael's normally harsh voice was just another superb example of his family treating him like he was defective and easily broken.
Shakily taking the container from Raph's outstretched hand, Donnie closed his eyes for a moment, not just to hide the tears gathering, but also, to hide his disgust with himself. He couldn't help but to perceive the irony of needing help to open a bottle. The words 'helpless' and 'baby' came to mind.
The verdict is in. You are officially the biggest loser . . .
The voices in his head started screaming at him again with all the warmth of a bucket of ice water. They made sure to remind him how pathetic he was, but he somehow managed to reduce them to little more than a whisper so he could focus his concentration on his brothers.
Forging an appreciative smile, Donnie took a swig of the beverage his brother had so kindly opened for him. Downing a mouthful of liquid worked to his advantage, because he didn't dare speak at the moment, or else his brothers might hear how upset he was. He needed a second or two to regain his composure.
Raph patted Donnie on the top of the head, evidently pleased with his immediate younger brother's actions.
It took every fiber of Donnie's being not to roll his eyes.
Why do they keep patting me on the head? Don't they remember I suffered from multiple brain injuries?
The mood in the infirmary was getting far too depressing for Mikey to stomach, so he decided a change of subject was necessary.
"So . . . what does everyone have on their to-do list today? Donnie, I bet you've got something big planned."
Raph immediately shot a scowl at his baby brother for his blatant thoughtlessness. Mikey knew darn well that there wasn't a whole lot that Donnie could do with two out of his four major limbs out of commission. He also knew that Donnie was extremely frustrated about his limited capabilities. Mikey certainly didn't need to go drawing attention to that fact.
Then, much to Raph's surprise, Donnie eagerly responded.
"Actually, I was kind of hoping to take this sling off today, so I could tinker around on the Stealth Bike. Maybe get it back up and running for you again, Raph," Donnie said, motioning his head towards the closed garage door.
When Raphael looked down at Donnie, he saw that distinct twinkle in his brainiac brother's eyes. The one that Donnie got whenever he was genuinely excited about something. They hadn't seen that twinkle in such a long time. That was why Raph truly hated himself for what he was about to say.
"Sorry, Donnie, but you know we can't let you do that. If Leo and Master Splinter found out we let you take that sling off, they'd crack our shells."
The words of disapproval had no sooner left Raph's lips when he saw the light instantly fade from his genius brother's eyes. Donnie's hand then flaccidly dropped down onto his blanketed lap, nearly dumping the contents of his milkshake in the process.
"Aw, come on, Donnie. Don't be like that. You know I'd let you if I could, but your shoulder . . . it still needs time to heal," Raph said, cupping his hand underneath Donnie's jaw and gently lifting his head up. He could feel Donnie ever-so subtly trying to pull away from his grasp, but he lightly tightened his hold to keep his little brother's face pointed towards him.
"I . . . I just wanted to fix your bike for you," Donnie muttered in a broken voice, unable to camouflage his misery. Raph hadn't just rained on the genius turtle's parade, he had torrentially down poured and golf-ball-sized hailed on it. All Donnie had wanted to do was serve some sort of purpose again, and they wouldn't even allow him to do that.
A crooked grin crept across Raph's face as he released his hold on Donnie's chin so he could once again cross his arms in front of his plastron.
"Well, you don't need to fix the bike for me, 'cause Casey and I already took care of it for you."
"Wh – What?"
"You heard right. Casey and I fixed the bike right up. It runs better than before." Raph spoke as though what he had just said was good news, but to Donnie, the news was anything but good. The words had cut him straight to the core, but neither of his brothers noticed his grief. They just continued to pour acid into the already festering wound that was Donnie's psyche.
"Actually, Raph and Casey have been super busy working on your stuff, bro. While you were all spaced-out from the fever and pain meds, you listed off a bunch of things you said you needed to get done."
"I did?" A nauseous feeling rolled deep in Donnie's gut as he thought about what other things he may have unknowingly revealed during his two weeks of unconsciousness. What if he had said something that he shouldn't have?
What if I said something stupid when April was there?
Donnie could feel all the symptoms of a panic attack coming on, but his brothers inadvertently interrupted it.
"Yeah, we thought you were coming to, but turns out, you were just talking in your sleep. There were a couple of times you babbled on and on about needing to change the oil and the serpentine belt on the Shellraiser. Then, you kept saying you needed to replace the carburetors and fuel pump diaphragm on the Stealth Bike, so Casey and I decided to take care of it for you. Casey's a real whiz when it comes to fixing mechanical stuff."
Donnie's frown deepened into a look of sheer dejection. The genius turtle couldn't remember a time when Raph had bragged like that about something that he had done. Now that Donnie was really thinking about it, he didn't recall Raph ever showing any real appreciation for his mechanical expertise, other than when he had first introduced the Shellraiser way back when. Most of the time, Raph didn't even bother acknowledging anything Donnie did, unless he really needed something from him. And even then, the hothead wasn't all that complimentary about it. At least, not nearly as complimentary as what he had just said about Casey Jones.
"Casey's a real whiz when it comes to fixing mechanical stuff."
And what am I? Chopped liver? Donnie pouted to himself, feeling a heavy twinge of jealousy. He then turned his head towards the garage door and glared at it, feeling as though it had somehow wronged him by allowing someone else to enter his exclusive domain and work on his treasured creations while he was in a coma.
Letting out a long, wheezy-sounding sigh, Donnie shifted his gaze down towards his lap.
Sensing that Donnie was getting sad again, Mikey jumped in and tried to cheer his big brother up.
"I did a few things around the lair for you, too, D! I greased the squeaky track on your lab doors. I went around the sewers and checked all of the security cameras and motion sensor thingies, just like you showed me how to do that one time! And I fixed the toaster . . . again! Oh, and I cleaned your room!"
An involuntary shudder ran through Donnie's entire body. Just thinking about how badly Mikey could have screwed up one or all of the items that he had just listed off thoroughly frightened the genius turtle. A barrage of questions raced through Donnie's now-overwrought mind, like what exactly did Mikey use to grease the tracks on the doors, just how many security cameras and motion sensors did Mikey throw out of whack or possibly break while "checking" them, will Mikey's attempt to repair the toaster potentially burn down the whole lair, and why did Mikey feel a need to clean his bedroom when the youngest turtle's own room could easily be declared a disaster area?
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Donnie assured himself that he was better off not knowing the answers to his many questions. The truth would probably just make him flip out.
"Everyone's been pitching in as best they can. Right, Mikey?" Raph asked, playfully poking Mikey in the shell a few times with an elbow.
"Yup! We've all been trying real hard to help out around here and keep the place in ship-shape, D. We didn't want you stressing out about those things when you got better."
"Thanks, guys." Donnie's eyes started to tear up again, but this time, they were tears of joy. His mouth curled into a modest smile to demonstrate how humbled he was by his brothers' gestures.
Then, in an instant, the tides turned.
"No problem. In fact, we're all getting so good at doing your stuff, you're probably gonna be out of a day job. All this time we were waiting around for you to fix things, we could've just been doing it ourselves. It's not like it's that hard," Raph wisecracked, not realizing what he had just done to Donnie's fragile self-confidence.
Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, Donnie tried to convince himself that his older brother was just kidding around, but no matter how many times he told himself that Raph was only joking, the words hurt just the same. Raph had said that Casey was a mechanical whiz, and now, he had said that Donnie was going to be out of a job. The genius turtle couldn't help but to wonder if that was how all of his brothers saw him.
Replaceable.
If Donnie's family and friends could perform his tasks just as well or better than he could, what would that make him?
Useless. That's what.
"Totally, bro." Mikey's comment had actually been meant for Raph, but to Donnie, it had sounded as though his baby brother had just agreed with what the cruel voices in his head were saying to him.
Thanks a lot, Mikey.
"This fixing stuff . . . it's not nearly as hard as I thought it was. Anybody can do it." With that said, Mikey reached out and good-naturedly nudged his immediate older brother's uninjured shoulder.
Donnie faked a smile that lasted all of two seconds before his face changed into a blank expression meant to mask his heartbreak, but the revelation that he was disposable and no longer served a purpose was making it hard to keep up appearances. He quickly shifted his stare down to the floor so his brothers wouldn't see the pain residing in his eyes.
What good are you to them anymore?
They're better off without you . . .
The sound of Mikey's now concerned voice temporarily snapped Donnie out of his gloomy thoughts.
"You okay, Donnie?"
Oh yeah. I'm just peachy keen . . . Where was that concern when you two were essentially telling me I was worthless? Was what Donnie thought, but what he chose to say was, "Yeah . . . I'm all right. Just a little tired." As Donnie murmured out the words, his voice was almost mechanical, void of any emotion.
Raph and Mikey exchanged wary glances, sensing something was suddenly off with Donnie. Leo had told them about the conversation that he and Master Splinter had had in the Dojo, where Sensei had said that Donatello was trying to shut them all out. Their oldest brother had asked them to pay close attention for any warning signs that Donnie was upset. The problem was, the genius turtle had years of practice at hiding things from them. When it came to internal strife, Donatello had a really good poker face and it was virtually impossible to read what cards he was holding.
"How about we carry you out to the pit so you can watch some TV with us? I could turn on one of those documentary-type shows you like." It was an obvious act of unselfishness on Mikey's part. He was demonstrating that he was willing to suffer through educational programming just for Donnie's sake, but the kind gesture came a little too late.
As unintentional as it was, the emotional damage had already been done to Donnie and no simple act of kindness was going to fix it.
Alienating himself further from his family was Donnie's solution to the pain.
"Thanks, Mikey, but I think I'll pass. You two go ahead. I have a few projects I wanna work on here in the lab," Donnie said, putting a dollop of phony enthusiasm in his voice to appease his brothers. He could see that their faces were both burdened with worry.
"Are you sure, D? Couldn't your projects wait?" The innocent way that Mikey had spoken when he had asked his questions almost made Donnie reconsider his response, but he really felt like being alone.
"Yeah . . . I'm sure," Donnie said near a whisper.
Raph's mouth turned down into a deep frown. He could tell that Donnie's mood had taken a turn for the worse and his genius brother suddenly seemed more distant than normal. "Why don't you come hang out with us for a while, Donnie? I'm sure your projects can wait until later."
"I think the projects have waited long enough," Donnie said with a palpable tinge of guilt in his voice, but his face remained unexpressive.
Raph didn't like Donnie's decision, but he couldn't force his little brother to leave the lab. Well, technically, he could, but he was pretty sure the rest of his family would disapprove of that course of action. Primarily, Donatello.
"Okay, but the offer still stands. Just give us a yell if you need a break." There was a part of Raph hopeful that Donnie would reconsider, but the hotheaded turtle should have known better. His genius brother was too stubborn to change his mind when it was set.
Donnie only nodded in response.
"I'll come by later to check on your progress on that shake, and it better be gone," Raph warned, pointing at the just about full beverage in his brother's hand.
Again, the wounded turtle nodded.
"Donnie?"
"Yeah, Mikey?"
"Y – You'll let us know if you need anything or change your mind, right?"
"Don't worry, Mikey. I'll let you know." Donnie feigned another smile before turning towards his computer.
Mikey sighed and reluctantly trudged out of the lab, followed by Raph, who glanced back over his shoulder several times before exiting, clearly hesitant about leaving.
Once his brothers were outside of the laboratory, Donnie set his bottle down on his desk so he could immerse his face in his trembling hand. If Raph and Mikey would've stuck around any longer, Donatello wasn't sure if he would've been able to keep it together. The voices in his head were getting more and more relentless and his brothers had only added fuel to the fire.
"We're all getting so good at doing your stuff, you're probably gonna be out of a day job."
"All this time we were waiting around for you to fix things, we could've just been doing it ourselves."
"This fixing stuff . . . it's not nearly as hard as I thought it was. Anybody can do it."
All of the progress his family had made breaking down his walls. Donnie was building them right back up again, making them more impenetrable than before.
Pretty soon, no one would be able to get through . . .
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To be continued . . .
*Author's Notes: Poor, poor Donnie. He's sinking further and further into despair . . . 😭
As always, please continue to vote on and/or comment on my stories if you like them. Thank you very, very much for reading! 😉 CJ