Chapter Text
For Donatello, returning to his destroyed home was like reopening a fresh wound that was just beginning to heal. He didn't want to go back, and yet he had no other choice. As much as he and his brothers didn’t feel ready, the ruins of the place that had seen them grow still awaited them ... They could not evade reality forever.
They had to face the ghosts of that battle.
Splinter had promised them, with renewed optimism, that this would be a new opportunity.That rebuilding their home was a symbolic way in which they could write a new chapter in their story. This time they would be stronger, they would be prepared for whatever adversity might come their way.
Their father’s spirit was refreshened, having freed his ancestors from the fearsome shadow of the Kuroi Yoroi.
But Donatello didn't share that feeling, he just couldn't. Although with all his might he wished that re-building their home could strengthen his spirit.
It was as if that pain could not leave him, as if it were clinging tightly to his shell, a silent reminder of his condition as a fragile and mortal entity. Of how he had failed to stop Shredder when he broke into the sewer, into their home, the place they believed for years would be the only space where the entire family could feel protected. It was a matter of looking at his laboratory, now destroyed, save for one or two screens that lit up the place with a gloomy flicker, illuminating the mechanical remains scattered on the floor. Nothing had been spared, not even Shelldon. His frame was scattered in various pieces all over the floor, giving an appearance so bleak that the young terrapin's heart clenched violently as he witnessed the scene.
The more he looked at the crumbling walls in the gloom, the more he felt the weight of what had happened fall on his back, realizing how everything that defined him as someone important within his own team had no value whatsoever. He was the weakest link in the chain, his body had always been the most vulnerable. He knew it. It was a reality from which he could not escape, even if he had spent hundreds of sleepless nights working on a way to compensate for that fragility. And yet, that now seemed more than ever like a miserable waste of time. In a matter of seconds the work of most of his life became nothing. He hadn't saved Gram Gram, he hadn't protected his home or his body, everything he had built for himself and his brothers had been shattered.
There were too many emotions inside him. Disappointment, fear and a sudden rage at the magnitude of his own conclusions, which brought him to the point of feeling his legs begin to shake. More than the first time they faced Shredder, more than when they fled the sewer, leaving their father behind. Anguish was taking hold of his being, a loneliness so silent and at the same time so evident that it could not be silenced by the words full of optimism of his brothers. He felt small, insignificant in a world so vast and dangerous that anyone could erase his existence at once. And this time he would not be lucky enough to be protected by anyone. What could he do when faced with the certainty of that situation?
He didn’t notice when his legs gave out. Nor the moment he had started to tremble. It was as if his senses were suddenly focused on his breathing, his heart rate. His own erratic gasps and the blood pumping on his ears became the only thing he could hear.
There was no way to control this, not with that unfathomable fear embedded in his heart. He was unable to contribute to the team, much less could he save those he loved. And his mind, always sharp and accurate, was in charge of reminding him of those weaknesses. Louder than ever before, overwhelming like the cold darkness of what used to be his laboratory.
Weaknesses that had always been there.
That he couldn't ignore anymore.
That hurt because they were undeniable.
And then, Donatello cried.
And cried ...
Until there were no more tears to let out ...
Slowly, a drowsiness and a heavy calm took over his body, granting him a lapse of clarity amid all the turbulence of his thoughts. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring at the ground, and for a moment, the noise stopped.
He was grateful that his brothers had gone out for pizza without him, surely understanding his need for space, and that Splinter was visiting Todd to get more manpower to help with the rebuild. He really appreciated it because that way they couldn't see the state he was in. He didn't want to worry them, nor did he want them to ask any questions. He knew perfectly well that if he did so, he would not be able to control himself. He wouldn’t be able to quell the torrent of insecurities that threatened to overwhelm him, sweeping everything in their wake.
He had to compose himself once more, and stand up, he had no choice.
He had to count ...
To breathe…
And start all over again ...
1…
2…
3…
4…
When he reached triple digits, he realized that he was no longer shaking, there was only the fatigue that followed after the exhausting process of crying. An emptiness after the explosion. Similar to how a sick person must feel after throwing up everything that was churning in their stomach. However, he knew that his fears were still there, hidden within him, and that the peace he was experiencing was as false as it was fleeting. Still, it was enough to momentarily restrain the apprehensions that clung violently to his chest.
He rolled onto his back when he finally had the strength to move. And for a few seconds he remained like that, staring at the ceiling in silence, listening to the mute hum of the machines that forced themselves to work, despite their state. He wondered for a moment if it was wise to get up, if it was worth it to continue struggling with the inevitable. His own shell was proof of his mortal condition, fragile like his creations. If he died, would he look the same as his lab did now? Would it be just as easy to rip the life out of him?
It was almost ironic that Draxum had chosen a turtle of his species in order to serve as a warrior. Objectively, a softshell like him was the one most likely to die in combat.
Painful thoughts began to invade his mind, and he could not, should not let them take over once more. His consciousness had kicked into gear again, and with it some of the self-control he'd lost after the tumult of emotions. He had to hold on to it while he could.
Looking to his right and following the path of broken lights, he saw Shelldon's image receptors. It was an object, a mere creation of his, and yet he was awed as he made contact with that dull gaze. Despite their pitiful state, he could swear they were staring back at him.
He wasn’t able to save anyone before. But he could try one more time.
________________________________________________________________
When the others returned home, they were surprised to see Donnie back at work, focused on taking Shelldon apart piece by piece as he began to design a new body for him. If the laboratory could be considered a disaster before, now it seemed like it had been attacked by a hurricane. Amongst old blueprints and some sketches, the young genius had entered a creative trance that did not give rise to any interruption.
“I know I say it a lot, but can we agree that this is the work of a demonic possession?” he heard Leonardo say from the door, but he did not turn around to argue. He didn’t have the strength to start the classic routine in which the two began to fight. On the other hand, Donnie knew there was something strange about the inflection on his brother’s voice. Leo didn’t sound as confident as he always did, in fact, even he who was terrible at detecting other people's emotions could notice a hint of concern in his words. And with it, inevitably, guilt weighed on Donatello. He was afraid to turn around and see his expression, to be scrutinized by those shrewd eyes, which would undoubtedly force out the emotions he was so desperately trying to contain.
"Donnie? Is everything alright?” The softshell shuddered as he felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by a gentle kiss. He didn't want to talk, but he couldn't push Mikey away. It was clear that the younger turtle was worried, and unlike Leonardo he had no qualms about showing it. Donatello took a deep breath, he couldn't let his voice crack, he had to remain as impassive as possible.
"I'm excellent, Angelo ... But for now I require privacy. Disassembling Shelldon in these conditions requires full concentration" He tried to smile, but he could only make a grimace. Mikey pulled away slowly, he knew he hadn't convinced him, but at least he wouldn't ask questions for the moment.
When he heard the footsteps of his two brothers walking away, he finally felt able to relax. He needed to contain himself as best as possible, at least until night, where he would be able to let it all out, cry, maybe open up without completely collapsing.
But it was easier said than done, the rest of his day was full of visitors. This time it was Raphael and his father who came more frequently. He could assume that Mikey and Leo had spoken to them and expressed their concerns.
Luckily neither of them had jumped to question him, on the contrary, they focused on keeping him company from time to time. In organizing the files he had scattered on the floor, and occasionally making random comments, surely so that he did not feel alone.
Splinter ,especially, was being more careful, as if he knew what the limits of his son’s emotional stability were. In one of those visits Donnie could feel the aroma of coffee flooding the laboratory, and this time it smelled differently, it was not the kind of instant coffee that he always drank, but something sweeter and even comforting.
"My son, I brought you this," Splinter announced, placing a cup of the steaming beverage next to him. "Blue got hazelnut coffee, I thought you might like it ..."
Donatello opened his mouth to say something, but before he did, his father held his hand for a few seconds before letting go and quietly exiting the room. As if to imply that there was no need to say anything if he didn't want to, and maybe he didn't know, but Donatello was grateful for that.
Raphael, on the other hand, was louder, but no less welcomed. The older turtle also talked to himself aloud, coming in to say that they had gotten a few new posters of Atomic Lass for his room. That he found a near-new computer that he could use later or to leave him a plate with a few slices of pizza while protesting about having to drop off his father at Draxum's apartment.
At moments he could also feel two other presences at the door of his laboratory. He knew exactly who they were, even if they didn't say anything before leaving.
The last visit he received that day was much quieter than the others. Perhaps it was due to the fatigue of everything he had experienced in the morning, but this time he didn’t realize that there was someone else near. Not until he felt a warm pair of arms wrap around his shoulders. He did not need to turn around to know who was holding him. Mikey exuded emotions even when he was not being as energetic as he always was, and Donnie could understand it perfectly. None of them had had time to process the loss of everything they had always known as their home.
“…Michael…”
Donatello was the one who broke the silence after a few long seconds in which neither of them had decided to say anything.
“Donnie, you’ve been working all day, you should rest. Normally,I’d just leave you be, but…”
“ But we are not going through something normal” the softshell added mentally.
“Don't worry, I took a break to eat …”
He felt that hug becoming tighter, firm, but not enough to become uncomfortable. Surely the younger turtle had already noticed the slice of pizza that Raph had brought him hours ago. Cold, almost intact, with just a couple of bites here and there. That had been an almost insulting lie. However, Mikey made no move to scold him, there was no hint of “Dr. Delicate touch” in him. Only his brother, gently kissing the back of his neck above the bandana, in a gesture that the purple turtle could interpret not only as loving but also understanding. Something sweet enough to comfort his spirit and lighten the burden of everything he felt.
“We all miss Shelldon, but you gotta get some sleep. You can work on him more, tomorrow..
“Just let me check if there are any sequence errors in his convolutional neural network and-...”
"Donnie ..." Mikey cut off his words, saying his name in a harsh way, so unlike him that he didn't dare to question him. After a few seconds he spoke again, sounding soft and affectionate once more as if nothing had happened “…Let's go to bed … Please?”
It was there that Donnie broke away from his brother to meet his eyes. They glowed with that longing that always managed to distract him from the rest of the world, but he could also see something else in his gaze. A feeling that he could not identify, but that undoubtedly raised some concern in him. At times like this, he regretted not being in touch with emotions. He could not understand his little brother as much as he wanted, instead running into a wall that stood between them. However, he understood what he wanted at that moment, and he did not intend to deny him of it, even if he felt that it was not the most opportune occasion. He would always be willing to do anything, if it was Mikey who asked him to.
Silently he led the way to his room, lighting the way with the dim light of his comlink. His brother took advantage of this to hold his hand, intertwining their fingers during the short journey.
"Do you think we should tell Leo…?"
"Oh, he already knows… He's actually in your room waiting for us," said the youngest. Donnie couldn't see his face, but he was sure Mikey was smirking, and that was a gesture he couldn't help but mimic. His two brothers had prepared everything from the beginning and were totally sure that he was going to give in without putting up any resistance.
They had certainly been right.
As the dusty curtain was drawn, he expected to see Leonardo's mocking smile, he expected him to throw himself into his arms along with Mikey. And that the two of them would throw him to bed with the same enthusiasm as always.
Instead, he found his twin sitting at the edge of his bed, staring at the cracks that lined the wall.
"Leo…?"
“... The good thing about your room being the smallest? It didn’t get damaged as much. So we lucked out and can get some privacy.” Leonardo turned to look at them, showing that smile he had expected to see when he arrived. However, there was something different about it, it seemed more tense and subdued. Before he had been able to notice traces of apprehension in his expression, but now, at night and in the confines of his room, it became apparent that he was as affected as any of them.
Was it because he could not hold it in any longer? Or was it because they were in the right place to drop the facade? Maybe it was the latter. Because all three of them looked exhausted. In fact, they looked like shit.
“I’d say we should talk about our feelings, but… I wouldn’t even know what to say…”” Michaelangelo was right, it wasn’t the time to speak, their scars were still fresh. The anxiety attack he had experienced that morning was enough proof of that. Nobody assured them that saying something could improve their mood, it was more likely that their spirits would sink even more if they touched that topic. They needed to let the emotions heal, perhaps later, once everything was calmer they could try to turn the page.
Their interlocked hands shook for a moment before the youngest turtle let go, churring softly as he climbed onto bed to accompany Leo, who was looking at them expectantly in the gentle silence.
Donnie would always remember that encounter as one of the quietest and yet most significant of his entire life.
His brothers' kisses were shaky and insecure, just like his, as if it were the first time they touched each other like that. They were anxious, so much that they bit harder than usual. It hurt, Donatello could taste blood in his mouth and he couldn't tell if it was Leo's or Mikey's or his, but at the same time he didn't care. Somehow that warmth reminded him that his heart was pounding. He was alive, and the three of them were together as lovers.
There were no jokes or banter, no obscene words to heat up the atmosphere any further, and yet all three were incredibly eager. Donnie could tell it in the way his twin squeezed his hand as he fervently kissed his sensitive shell, drawing shaky sighs from him. Also in the way that Mikey, who was already known to be touchy, rubbed his face against the plastron with a desperation that he had rarely witnessed. His large, bright eyes exuded an emotion so overwhelming that even in the semi-darkness it made him shiver.
None of them were emotionally ready to go on, and yet they didn’t want to stop. Donnie felt it in his chest, just like his brothers he didn’t want to let go. To be alone and see the Shredder's demonic eyes in the darkness.
They stopped only a couple of times to hug each other between soft churrs, or wipe the tears that they couldn't help but spill. It was a strange mix of sadness, love, fear, and sex.
Donatello had read in a psychology book, once, something about Freud's approaches to life and death instincts. If he remembered correctly, it said something about the tendency of every living being to seek self-preservation, which encompassed pleasure, union with others and gratification. He wasn't sure if he meant something like this, but wasn't that what they were doing? Trying to survive? Perhaps that explained why as their bodies joined he repeated words of love like a mantra, finally showing just how vulnerable he really felt. Perhaps it was due those instincts that the moment of orgasm was as pleasant as it was violent, to the point that his two brothers bit his nape and his neck, sinking their teeth until they broke skin and drew blood. Even Donnie himself ended up digging his nails into Mikey's thigh, hard and without thinking about the consequences.
Wasn't what they were doing part of feeling alive?
After finishing they laid in silence for a while, trying to catch their breath and feeling their hearts pounding hard.
“I'm scared…”
Leonardo said shakily as he regained his senses and wiped his tears uselessly, breaking up little by little until he let out a disconsolate cry. After Raphael, he had been the one who had given the most to protect them all. To give Gram Gram time to escape and who to this day had tried to remain positive and brighten up everyone's spirits .
But now he had no way to contain all those feelings, his painful sobs were becoming more and more uncontrollable. It didn't take long for Mikey's to join in, muffling his weeping on Donatello's arms, showing that he couldn't also keep pretending that everything was fine.
Nothing was.
For Donnie that scene was overwhelming, all those feelings pouring out of his two brothers and he was unable to do anything.. However, it did not take long for him to break too, melting into that desperate embrace.
Donatello was the one who always fixed things, but he didn't know if there was any way to fix his entire family, nor did he know if he could fix himself. He felt that fear too, and he had never felt it so strongly.
He didn’t want to face death so close ever again, he didn’t want to leave this world, he wanted to extend his life and never leave the people he loved. He didn’t want to disappear and become nothing.
The thoughts from a few hours ago were coming back.
"I'm scared too, Leo ..."
Was the only thing he could say amongst all the feelings that he had in his heart, he couldn't let them out like that at once.
He had a feeling that he might drown if he did.
________________________________________________________________
Donnie didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he opened his eyes. Through the holes in the curtain he could see the sunlight softly lighting the lair. Due to the dimness, he assumed that the sun was barely rising, therefore his father had not returned from Draxum's apartment to resume with the repairs, so there was plenty of time to get clean and have breakfast.
He had to admit it, Mikey had been very clever in convincing Splinter to stay the night at the apartment until his room was repaired, even though his brother's intentions were focused on more altruistic purposes.
His two brothers lay sleeping peacefully. He could see how comfortable Mikey looked, even with his face against Leo's plastron while the older one drooled, messily. Nothing remained of the outbreak of feelings from the night before.
Donatello, for his part, felt incredibly refreshed, with less weight on his chest which swelled slightly. It was almost tempting to stay in the warmth of his bed, and feast his eyes watching his brothers sleep, but there were too many things to do today. Finish repairing Shelldon, plan what he would do next with his lab, see how he could improve his technology.
He closed his eyes as he threw his head back, that unpleasant feeling of worthlessness was less strong than before, there was no doubt, but that didn’t mean that it was totally gone. He decided then that it was time to get up and go forward with some of his work. He knew that if he stayed longer without doing anything, his apprehensions would grow and torture him more and more. He carefully separated himself from the embrace of his lovers, put on his shorts and covered the two turtles with a blanket that was forgotten on the floor. As he left the room, he couldn't help but gaze at what was left of the lair. The dim lights of dawn gave it a much more desolate look, as if that place had been abandoned for years and not just a couple of months.
It wasn't even cold, but for Donatello the scenery was so overwhelming that it made him shiver. Luckily, another presence soon arrived to the scene, distracting him from those ghosts that were beginning to haunt him.
"Hey Donnie..." He had been so absorbed looking at his surroundings that he hadn't noticed Raphael at his side until he spoke. “Up so early? Don't tell me you spent the night working...”
"No, Raph. Mikey came to look for me at the lab last night and…” When he turned to see him he noticed that his older brother was wearing a white sweatshirt, which was a mess; Blood and dirt stained the garment, his arms and face were no better, there were many bruises along his skin. What had happened to him? Had he been out all night? He didn't have time to start questioning him, before he even opened his mouth, the older turtle made a sign pointing to his neck while trying to hide the embarrassment in his expression.
True, he forgot about the bites, when he put his hand to his neck he realized how deep were the marks resulting from his encounter with Leo and Mikey. He needed to think of a good excuse to give Splinter as to why his neck was going to be bandaged for a couple of weeks. But that would be something to discuss at another time, he knew that Raphael would be uncomfortable talking about it. His brother did enough by covering for any suspicions their father had, in addition to trying not to judge them or mention how their relationship could affect the team.
Raphael was simply the best brother she could wish for, even if he didn't say it often.
"Uh ... yesterday I went out with Casey. We went to play hockey, then we went to you know ... clean the streets a bit, release some tension." Apparently, the older one noticed his intention to question him about his appearance, so he decided to say it on his own accord. Raph was a little nervous when he spoke, he avoided meeting his gaze, as if he had done something wrong. Donnie supposed he felt guilty that he had gone out on patrol to take it out on criminals, instead of venting his feelings in a much calmer and healthier way.
He wondered if that had been the way Raph dealt with his own demons during this whole process. If, unlike them, he took out that fear and that pain through fighting, in addition to spending time with the one who was once their enemy. Perhaps it was also a way of coping with the loss of Frankenfoot by having an equally feral new sparring partner. One who could also listen to his grievances and questions. Whatever the reason, he only hoped that it would be favorable for the elder, it would be hypocritical of him to question if it was correct or not.
“Cassandra seems to be someone you can enjoy spending time with. It’s evident that you have similar tastes in various subjects and activities…” That was his way of telling him that everything was fine. There was nothing to judge. He knew his older brother wouldn't do anything stupid. He would even bet that he could prevent innocent people from suffering under the fury of the former foot clanswoman. Raphael silently put one of his hands on his shoulder in a gesture of sincere thanks before going to his room and Donnie followed him with his eyes until he saw him disappear behind one of the few doors that still stood.
He hoped his older brother could sleep just as soundly as they had. Forget all this destruction for at least a few hours before Splinter returned and they had to get back to work.
He also had to take advantage of those precious hours.
When he entered the laboratory again, he went directly to where the disassembled pieces of Shelldon's head were resting. The day before he had finished separating his parts. He hoped to save everything that was part of the control system at the expense of other components, which he had to sacrifice.
Yes, he could give him another body and another shape, that was not difficult, but he needed his memory to be intact. It was there where the "soul" of his creation resided. The memories they had lived together, his personality, everything. If that had not been damaged, in just a few days his little assistant would be flying all over the place as if nothing had happened. But he could not be overconfident, he had to verify that everything was working well.
He connected the memory to an old laptop that April had lent him temporarily and began to check if Shelldon's neural network presented any chain of errors within its flow. Fortunately, everything seemed to be in order. The first few minutes of analysis showed nothing different from the last time he did a routine checkup.
The young terrapin put a hand to his chest, feeling like he could breathe in peace. But his relief was short-lived, since from one moment to the next the networks in charge of the visual receptors and the area that sent impulses in case of danger began to blast with intense signals. Donnie lunged for the laptop and an alert signal popped up on its screen, accompanied by a window displaying a graph whose peaks rose and fell erratically. It was a graph of stimulus levels.
He felt startled with confusion. Those kinds of signals weren't in the robot's configuration before. And while Shelldon was programmed to learn independently, there was no way he would have generated reactions like that on his own. On the other hand, he was not receiving error signals in the information flows, all the parameters were correct except for those violent responses from the visual receptors.
It was then that, driven by concern about the state of his assistant's memory and a feeling of intrigue, he decided to do a temporal analysis of the brain responses in his android. He had a slight hunch as to how the results would go. It was only logical that their last fight had affected Shelldon too.
"Gasp…" he exclaimed aloud. "As I thought, these readings are from the last few seconds before he was destroyed. But what do they mean?"
It was then that he began to review the database of images that the robot had retained, comparing them with the stimulus peaks. It was strange, now that he was looking more closely. The variations had not only occurred in the last seconds before he was destroyed, but had been there for a long time. Perhaps from the moment the fight began and they had increased progressively. Was it an emotional response to the noises of the fight? Something like that... Something like that was not possible, Shelldon could only react with direct stimuli.
He decided to try sending information back to the neural network, this time containing some recordings of the baseball game a few months ago, when Draxum had broken in while wearing the Kuroi Yoroi. To his surprise, the answers were immediate. Different neurons began to present strong and erratic impulses; One blue node turned red, then two, then six, branching out until they took up an entire sector. In turn, in the graph that showed the responses, those peaks appeared again, more and more pronounced.
Was Shelldon displaying stress responses to images that reminded him of Shredder? For Donatello it did not make any sense. Although in his programming he had "taught" him to have more human behaviors, and sometimes it was disconcerting to him how organic his reactions could be, it was almost impossible that he had developed anxiety about what was happening in the sewer, much less a trauma in the face of death... Unless, accidentally, he had made his neural network somewhat more complex than he intended. Forming new nodes independently, to the point of looking a lot like a human brain. What use could he have for that, in addition to inadvertently generating a trauma response in his robot? The idea certainly intrigued him. The brain of an automaton as complex as that of a living being, it sounded like something out of science fiction. But as unbelievable as it was, he wasn't going to let it go so easily. Donatello was a man of science. He needed clear answers, and to have them he was willing to do anything.
Perhaps, deep within him, a glimpse of what he would do if his suspicions turned out to be correct was beginning to emerge. For now, Shelldon and only Shelldon, was his biggest priority.
