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Chapter Text

Being apart of the Technodrome was... incredible. Being so wholly welcomed into such vast knowledge and power was thrilling- world changing. He was everything. He was everywhere. Nothing was out of his reach. He could feel the space in his head expand, his senses heightened to new levels, and as long as he ignored the pain in his shell and the prickling in his limbs and the pressure in his head, he would describe this as the best experience of his life. Truly, nothing could ever compare.

And then he was ripped out.

Violently.

Without any care to what it would do to him.

And suddenly the greatest experience of his life had turned into a living nightmare. He had never felt pain like this before, and not a second too soon, he blacks out.

———

"...nie!"

"Donnie, wake up!"

Donnie's eyes blearily crack open, dizzying colors invade his senses, and he fights the urge to close them again. He can hear himself wheezing, struggling to take in a full breath. He feels his head dipping down towards his chest, and he realizes he's being held up. Blinking to try to clear the haze from his vision, he looks around to his brothers, who are all being held up by the same gooey Krang matter. Donnie almost does a double take when he sees Raph, with the Krang's influence gone, but he doesn't even get a second to revel in this new development, because Leo and Mikey are suddenly yelling for him again.

"Donnie, c'mon, you have to fight it!" Leo shouts from across the room. A flash of blue lights up the room, and Donnie can feel the electricity of his brothers ninpō light up in his chest. And now that he's focusing on it, he can feel Raph's ninpō there too, strong and steady. Feeling that spark ignites something within his own kindling, and when Mikey's ninpō joins the mix, that's all the push Donnie needs before a beam of striking purple joins the cacophony.

There's yelling, but Donnie's ears are ringing, and everything sounds like it's happening behind a wall of cotton. He sees everyone's ninpō burning away the Krang matter that was holding them up, and he assumes the same was happening to him, but he could barely feel it.

Donnie drags in a breath, feeling like he was breathing through a straw, and uses all of his strength to lift up his right arm to pull at the Krang gunk that was pulling at his neck. If I could just get a moment to catch my breath...

And then the Krang matter is gone, and he's falling.

Donnie lands hard on his side, pain flaring through the upper part of his spine and echoing out across his chest, and the impact forces a weak cough out of him that takes away the little bit of air he had managed to gain in his lungs.

"Donnie!" he hears from above, but his eyes are slipping shut again, his energy spent.

There's a soft thud next to him, and a gentle hand on the side of his face. "Donnie, open your eyes man, please. C'mon, just open your eyes."

Leo.

Donnie slowly peels open his eyes again, despite how badly he wanted to just let them remain closed. Because Leo asked nicely.

Donnie drags in another breath.

Why is it still so hard to breathe?

"There you are," Leo sighs, a confusing mix of worry and relief painted on his face.

Donnie hears quick footsteps behind him and a soft gasp, "his shell," "oh Donnie," but when he tries to turn his head to see who's talking, Leo's hand that was still on his face presses down lightly to keep his head in place. "Don't move."

Donnie's head is starting to feel light from the lack of oxygen.

"Oh my god, Leo, what do we do." Mikey. That's Mikey. Donnie's fingers twitch against the ground as he tries once again to turn his head to see his baby brother, but Leo's hand remains firm.

"We have to move." Raph. His big brother is here too. Wait...

Donnie's already unsteady breathing halts, his eyes going wide. "Wait," he croaks out, all eyes turning back on him, "if you're all here... the Krang." Donnie's words slur, and his sentence ends in another wheezing breath.

The others share a confused look above him. Leo looks back down to meet Donnie's eyes, gently taking his hand with the one that wasn't securing the softshell's head. But Donnie could barely feel it. Everything felt so disconnected and muffled. Shock, maybe.

"Donnie," Leo says sharply, like he'd been calling his name a few times. Donnie drags his eyes back up to Leo, blinking through another round of haze. "Donnie, you're holding them off. Or, at least I'm assuming it's you. There's a big purple dome around us, and you're glowing, so..."

Huh?

"Leo," Raph says urgently from wherever he is. Donnie still can't see him or Mikey. If only I could just sit up... "We still need to get the Krang through that portal." There's hesitation in his voice, and Donnie wishes he could see his face.

"I know!" Leo snaps, voice trembling and eyes brimming with overwhelmed tears. It felt so unlike him. He'd only seen Leo make that face a few times in their lifetime, and most of what he could count were from the last 24 hours. Donnie focuses solely on flexing his fingers around Leo's hand, and Leo squeezes back automatically, looking back down at him but still talking to Raph. "I know, but- we can't move him like this."

"Leo, we can't stay here," Donnie hears Mikey say from somewhere above him, voice soft and pained. Donnie feels his heart pinch.

Donnie watches as a tear rolls down Leo's cheek, catching the purple lighting of Donnie's ninpō. Then Leo squares his shoulders and his face hardens, eyes glancing up to meet the others above him, and Donnie knows that he's come to a decision.

"Raph, in a few minutes I'm going to need you to pick up Dee. As carefully as you possibly can. I'll portal you down to a safe spot. Donnie actually managed to get the ship pretty close to the portal before the Krang grabbed him and Mikey, so all Mikey and I have to do is push the big guy through. I need you to watch Dee, if you can find anything hard and flat to lay him on once you're down there, that would be best. Make sure he doesn't move." Good, Donnie thinks as he listens to his twin slip back into his leader voice, Leo's got this covered. Donnie can feel his eyes slipping shut again right as Leo's eyes shift back over to him. "Dee, look at me, I need you to focus."

Donnie would have rolled his eyes at the slider if he wasn't feeling so sluggish. Instead, he tries to hum to let him know he's listening, but it turned more into a weak groan.

"Before I have Raph pick you up, I'm going to do a quick check to see how you're doing. I need you to keep the shield up, okay? Can you do that for me? No, don't move your head, I got it," Leo adds quickly, pulling their hands apart to stop Donnie from nodding with both of his hands.

"Okay," Leo says, more to himself, as he finally lets go of Donnie's head, throwing a sharp glare in his direction with one more, "don't move, keep your eyes open," as he picks up Donnie's wrist to take his pulse.

He frowns, clearly not pleased with what he's feeling, but he moves on anyways, carefully shifting his head to lean against Donnie's chest. It was difficult since Donnie was on his side, and Leo seemed to take extra care in making sure not to jostle him. Leo's frown only deepens. This check up clearly wasn't going well. Damn, there goes my perfect test scores...

Then Leo goes to check his eyes, but without a pen light to use and the lighting around them being so dim, he gives up on that, moving to hold Donnie's hands instead.

"Squeeze my hands," Leo instructs.

Donnie has to dig through his energy reserve moving his fingers, and he notices that his right hand reacts before his left. Huh. But either way, he manages to give Leo's hands a weak, lopsided squeeze, which seemed to be good enough for now because Leo nods approvingly.

"Okay, now wiggle your toes for me." The slider sits up a bit straighter to look at the softshell's feet. Or, where Donnie assumes they must be, because he can't feel anything below his chest. Donnie's never been in shock before, and after this experience, he never wants to again. Though, that's a bit redundant. No one ever wants to go into shock, that would be masochistic. But Donnie definitely would rate this experience a zero out of ten, would not recommend-

"Donnie, focus," Leo says, placing a hand on Donnie's arm, bringing Donnie back to the present. "I need you to wiggle your toes." Was Donnie becoming delusional, or was there a hint of desperation in his brother's tone? Probably both.

So Donnie wiggles his toes like Leo has asked of him, if only to ease his brother's concern.

"Donnie, seriously, man. Move your toes so we can finish this up. I know you're feeling kinda out of it right now but-"

What? "I already did," Donnie mumbles out, immediately wishing he hadn't spoken when such a simple task leaves him breathless and dizzy.

"What? No, dude, you didn't. Try again." Leo's tone sharpens, eyes going wide, despite his casual wording.

Donnie furrows his smudged brows. "What're you talkin' about?" Donnie tries to get an arm under him to push himself up, turning his head towards his legs, confused, but the second he tries to move, Leo's on top of him again.

"Stop! Stop moving," Leo shouts hurriedly. Donnie can feel the sharp sting of Leo's panic through their interlinked ninpō, and suddenly there's a shift in the air. Ignoring Leo's frantic pleads and shaking hands, Donnie tilts his head up slowly, painfully, and sees the large purple dome he had accidentally created to surround them shudder. A loud pounding followed by muffled rage filled roars could be heard just outside of the shield, as the Krang leader slams his fists into the structure, clearly becoming impatient.

When the Krang brings his fists down again, the structure glitches.

Donnie gasps, along with his brothers, and by instinct he pushes more energy into the shield. The world starts spinning and the corners of his vision go dim as he uses up the last of his reserves, and when Donnie blinks his eyes back open, his head is laying on the ground again. Leo's shouting something to someone, and there's a flash of bright, neon blue, and there's a large arm shifting under him. The last thing he sees is a burst of purple pixels as the dome shatters before his eyes slip shut.

Chapter Text

There are flashes. Of being carried, the world blurring around him as his handler starts running. Of static ringing through the air that came from a comm disconnecting. The world going quiet. Of a bright orange flash high in the sky... a portal?

But I thought Leo's portals were blue?

He feels something hollow and cold settle within him.

Donnie tries struggling through the fog, but finds himself dragged back under.

———

When Donnie awakes again, everything is hazy and too bright, and the only sounds he can hear past the ringing in his head are a series of annoying beeps and muffled voices he can't quite place. There's a dull ache in his shell and neck, but it feels displaced and far away. For the most part, he just feels numb and tired. He debates if it's worth even opening his eyes, wanting to let the soothing waves of unconsciousness wash over him again, but his curiosity was just a little too nagging to ignore.

When he finally manages to squint past the inconvenient blurriness, he's rather unfortunately greeted with the sight of Baron Draxum. The purple goat-man was towering over him, seeming completely unaware of Donnie's new found ability to open his eyes as he continues his soft spoken conversation with someone out of his immediate field of vision. He's also made aware that he is now lying on his back, propped up with an unreasonable number of pillows cushioning his shell. Draxum shifts his weight back slightly, momentarily blinding Donnie with one of the overhead lights, which clues him in on the fact that he now resides in their humble med bay. Curse you, white LED lights. Why did I ever think to install you.

His flinch, although small, had gained the attention of the old goat-man, whose head snapped in his direction so fast Donnie felt like he got whiplash just from watching. Draxum's eyebrows raise as he says, usual monotone voice pitching slightly to air on the side of surprise, "You're awake."

Donnie goes to reply when the action of opening his mouth brings his attention to the oxygen mask strapped to his face. Without a second thought, he brings his hand up to rip it off. I'm sure that's not necessary.

Draxum jerks forward to snatch the oxygen mask from him, glaring at Donnie incredulously, but makes no move to put it back on him. "What is wrong with you."

Donnie smirks, happy to fulfill his obligation of annoying Draxum at every possibility, even when his brain feels like mush. Leo would be proud. "You tell me. Why did I even have that thing on anyways?" And wow his voice is rough. What does a guy have to do to get a glass of water around here?

Probably just ask, his brain supplies, but Donnie doesn't think he'd be asking for anything from Draxum of all people. He'd probably poison the water, or put vitamins in it. Ugh. Hey maybe I could get some flavorless juice instead. That sounds good.

Draxum sighs deeply, rolling his eyes. "I swear, between you and the rest of your brothers, I'll be gray by next week."

"Have you looked in a mirror in the last decade?" Donnie snorts.

"Purple, it is good to see you awake." Donnie blinks at the sound of his father's voice, rolling his head sluggishly to his left side where the old rat is stationed beside him. He looks tired, older. Splinter lets out a chuckle, a strained sort of sound, taking his hand gently into his own and patting the top of it as he continues, "And it is good to see you in such high spirits. It has been dull in here these past few days without your humor."

"I keep telling you I'm the funny one," Donnie says, giving his father a crooked grin. And then his brain catches up to him, and his eyes go wide, thoughts sobering. "Wait, 'these past few days', how long was I out?"

Draxum sighs again, though this time it sounds different in a way Donnie can't explain. He's never been good at deciphering tone, especially Draxum's, but he knows it's different, and the joking air around them has vanished. The room feels smaller now, suddenly.

"How much do you remember?" Draxum asks, folding his hands in front of him.

Donnie blinks a few times, vividly remembering the vast, powerful feeling of merging with the Technodrome, and the pain that followed. Unable to breathe, unable to move, his brothers all around him on the ground, the Krang above. Bright purple pixels. Red. A flash of blue. A flash of orange.

"Donatello, look at me," Splinter takes his head into his hands, cupping the sides of his face, forcing Donnie's attention on him, and woah, full name, this must be serious. "You were hurt, you lost some time, but it is going to be okay. I promise, you will be okay."

Donnie misses the look Draxum shoots towards the rat when he says this, but he's sure that if he'd seen it, it would only have sent him head first into a spiral. Donnie closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in. "Okay, lay it on me."

Draxum clears his throat, grabbing the clipboard from beside his bed and flips through the pages, but his eyes weren't focused on the words. Donnie knows a stall when he sees one. He's used that specific one numerous times. But, just as Donnie opens his beak to call him out on it, Draxum starts, "Your list of injuries was... extensive, but thanks to your accelerated healing factors, and my excellent treatment, the list has become tremendously shorter."

Donnie rolls his eyes at Draxum's odd, self-centered wording. "Okay, weird way to phrase that. Mind telling me what those injuries were and why, if I'm all healed up, I only just now woke up?"

"I said that the list has become shorter, not that you're 'all healed up'," Draxum huffs, readjusting the clipboard in his hands. "When you were brought to me, you were in bad shape. I will not sugarcoat it. You had open wounds all over, deep puncture marks mostly centered on your shell, but you still needed some stitches on your neck and arms as well. Those have healed well, all things concidered. You had lost a lot of blood, was oxygen deprived, and with a severe spinal injury. Your struggle to breathe was a byproduct of your spinal column pressing in on your other organs, with how out of place it was. I performed surgery to correct it, placing a metal bracer, of my own creation, to help stabilize the injury. I expect not to see any further complication with your respiratory. The mask was just a precaution.

"From what Michelangelo has told me about the events that transpired, I'm honestly surprised it's not worse. That kind of internal trauma should have killed you, or at least ripped you in half. If you were human, it would have. I was keeping you under to give your body time to heal, especially after such an invasive surgery. Thank your accelerated healing that you didn't have to stay under for longer. I started weaning you off the heavier dosage this morning, but I wasn't expecting you to be this alert this early on. The painkillers should still be doing their job though, so once those wear off a bit more, we will be doing a thorough checkup to make sure everything is working the way we are expecting, then I'll up the dosage again."

Donnie's head reels slightly as he takes all of this in, one piece of information at a time. Like a slow processor scanning each document with a buffer in between each one. He looks past Draxum to see an iv stand where the line leads back to the crook of his arm.

"Truly, you are lucky to be alive," Draxum continues, pulling Donnie from his thoughts, "We won't know the full extent of the damage until we do a physical, however... based on where the injury is located, I'm concerned about... well..." Draxum stalls again, no longer making eye contact or fiddling with his stupid papers, but rather, looking further down the bed.

Donnie follows his gaze, and something dawns on him slowly, his slow processor finally catching on to the most important piece of the equation here, sending a shiver... down his... spine. The feeling more so fading halfway down, until he couldn't feel anything at all. Not the light sheet covering him, nor the stiff mattress below. Severe spinal injury. The old goat's words echo around in his head, the world tilting on its side. Without another word, Draxum raises a hand and sets it on one of his legs, flexing his fingers around it in a slight squeeze, and Donnie's breath hitches because if he hadn't been looking, hadn't seen Draxum put his hand on his leg with his own eyes, he wouldn't have known it had happened at all, because...

"Can you feel that?" Draxum asks, as if it's the most simple question in the world.

Donnie swallows hard, throat bobbing as his hands begin to shake, eyes going wide as horror dawns on him. "No."

He's unable to take his eyes off his legs, outlined so clearly under the thin white sheet that was a mockery to all blankets out there. He tries to shift his legs, to pull them up into his chest so he could wrap his arms around them in a self soothing hug and cry like he used to when he was little, easily overwhelmed by every new taste or smell or sound, and rock back and forth until all the bad feelings went away.

But they didn't move.

Not even a twitch.

"Is it permanent?" Donnie stumbles out, not able to pry his eyes away from his lifeless, unmoving legs.

Draxum's sudden vow of silence kinda makes Donnie want to punch him.

He growls, redirecting his fear and confusion and pain into anger, pushing himself up onto an elbow to round on the caprid as he brushes off his father's attempts to keep him still with a stressed "Careful, Purple!".

He flinches as a sharp pain sings up through his shell at the sudden movement, pinging behind his eyes, but he pushes through. "Am I going to recover!? Give me a percentage, a-an estimate! What are my chances here? This is- this is fixable, right?"

Draxum sighs again, yeah, sure, get pissy with me right now. Test it, I'm begging you. "Why don't we talk about this once you've gotten some more rest. Perhaps I should have waited longer to have this conversation with you. You are clearly irritable right now-"

"Draxum-"

"Oh, am I?" Donnie snaps, plowing right through whatever Splinter was going to say. Probably some spiel about bedside manners. "Oh, oh I'm sorry if finding out I'm a paraplegic makes me a little cranky!"

"Donatello, calm down-"

"I will not calm down!" Donnie drops himself back down, perhaps rougher than he should as his arm gives out, and turns his head to face his father properly. He's dizzy from all the movement, and the spinning of the room wasn't helping with the whole everything sucks and I'm about to puke from either emotions or the painkillers right now. Splinter has a pinched look on his face, tears clinging on for dear life to the corners of his eyes.

It almost makes Donnie feel bad about yelling. Almost. He turns back to face Draxum instead, unable to watch his father cry. Unwilling to be the one who makes him.

"Will you two stop being evasive and just answer me already? Why is being blunt suddenly so hard for you? If I'm going to be spending the rest of my life laying around, succumbing to atrophy and uselessness then I think I deserve a heads up!"

Draxum'a jaw clenches, looking down at the clipboard in his hands once more. The room is silent after his outburst, aside from the persistent beeping of the heart monitor. The sound comes in faster in the aftermath of his outburst, signaling his upset loud and clear to his captive audience.

Draxum pulls up a stool that had been resting behind him and sits down on it, still not making eye contact with Donnie. Which, he was fine with, feeling overwhelmed himself and appreciatory of the break.

Draxum pauses once more, hesitating, before he pulls off one of the asinine papers from the clipboard and hands it to Donnie. An x-ray? How the hell did he get one of these? He appreciates a good visual aid as much as the next guy, but the image raises more questions than answers them. Even through his still unfocused vision, could tell this image was taken after his apparent surgery, since he could clearly see the outline of the metal bracer hugging his spinal column. He wonders briefly what his shell must look like now. The ridges of his spine had always been visible through the thin-ish layer of leathery skin that stretched over it, he can only imagine he'd be able to see the metal obtrusion now as well. The thought doesn't help his nausea any.

Draxum clears his throat, gently gaining Donnie's attention, though the turtle doesn't look away from the picture as he starts,"You have an L1-L2 incomplete injury. Just barely, but still incomplete nonetheless. Again, it's a miracle it wasn't worse. I suspect you have lost most feeling below your chest, but we won't know until we've done a more thorough analysis. Because this is an incomplete injury, your chances of recovering some feeling and motor function is slightly higher. But I want to be very clear with you, your odds are not high by any means. I..." Draxum freezes, looking up now to see the softshell is two seconds away from crying.

Donnie swallows, feeling a hot prickling in his eyes as he fights back a wave of despair. He's too drained to feel anything else anymore. The anger he had been using as a shield against everything else is gone, having faded the longer Draxum talked. He distantly feels Splinter take his hand once more in silent solidarity, pulling it away from where it had been loosely holding onto the x-ray imaging. He doesn't have the energy to bat him away this time, and he doesn't think he wants to. He thinks he'd actually really like a hug right now. This can't be happening. What the fuck. This absolutely cannot be happening.

He always knew there were risks with fighting crime, and sure, they got hurt from time to time, but him and his brothers always felt so... invincible. They were created to be instruments of war, abnormally strong and fast healers. And even before finding that out, they had always been so much more durable than humans. It's why they throw themselves into harms' way, because they know they can take the hits.

I guess there's only so many hits we can take before the laws of the universe catches up to us. What goes up...

...and all that.

"Donatello," Draxum says, bringing him back to the present. There are tears rolling down his cheeks now, steadily. Donnie can't bring himself to wipe them away, his arms feeling heavy as his head fills with static. "I will be working with you to the best of my abilities to help you gain back as much as you can from this. Like I said before, I will not sugarcoat anything. This injury is severe, and you will most likely suffer long term effects from it. I- I do not believe you will walk again, and I am... deeply sorry for that."

Donnie tries to scoff, but it turns into a strangled sounding sob. This absolutely cannot be happening.

Oh how he so badly wants to be able to curl into himself and hide from the world. Shove his head under the blankets and never see the light of day ever again. Except, he doesn't want to do that at all. He really just wants is a hug. A warm, all surrounding, bone crushing hug. He wants his dad to hold him, rock him and tell him 'everything is going to be all right', like when he was little and had come running to him in the middle of the night crying about a nightmare. He wants his big brother to come in and scoop him up and squeeze him until he feels like he's about to pop. He wants his little brother to hang off of him until he loses his balance and falls to the ground. He wants his best friend to rub his shell and lay her head against his as they stare off into space together. He wants his twin to lean into him until they both topple over, laughing. Always laughing.

He wants his family.

Instead, he cries, the closest thing he gets to any physical comfort being his father's hand holding his.

"I'll go get you a glass of water," Draxum excuses himself quietly.

Donnie looks over to the only remaining occupant in the room, sucking in a shuddering breath as he tries to work up the courage to ask for the one thing he so desperately needs right now. If it had been his brothers, he wouldn't even need to ask, they would just know. But they aren't here right now-

They aren't here right now.

"Dad?" The next pump of his heart is a little harder. Louder.

Donnie watches as Splinter wipes a quick hand over his eyes, as if he could conceal the fact that he had been crying with him. "Yes, my son?"

Donnie suddenly feels desperate with the need to know what happened to his brothers. They would be here if they were okay. They would be. Which means they must have been hurt, or worse- "Where are the others?" Please tell me they're okay, please, please, please-

"Purple, take a deep breath with me. You're panicking when there is no need." Splinter angles himself more in front of Donnie so he could take both his hands, locking his eyes with his own, and taking a few exaggerated breaths to get Donnie to follow. He hates, just a little, that it works. He hates that he can be that easily influenced. That his brain will copy anyone to make sure his body gets what it needs. Sometimes, that's taking a bite of food when someone else does at the dinner table, or his heartbeat slowing down to match pace with the sleeping person he was lying with. In this moment, it's opening his lungs in the same cadence as his father in search of a steady flow of air.

Copy and paste.

While Donnie's tears still remain constant, his shuddering breaths have calmed, and the tension that had built around his shoulders eased, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

Everything hurts, actually. Everything he can still feel, at least. Not terribly, but enough to notice just above the strong pain meds that were being fed to him through the iv line.

"Your brothers are okay, they're just healing from their own injuries. And I sent April home with future boy to get some rest. There is nothing to worry about, keep taking deep breaths," Splinter says in a voice so soft and caring that, rather counter productively, Donnie's breath hiccups again. I want a hug, Dad. Please, I want a hug.

But then Draxum walks back through the door, holding a glass of water with a little plastic straw in it, and there's a joke somewhere there to be made about him being a turtle, something Leo would have said if he were here, and suddenly Donnie doesn't want anyone near him anymore. He would actually love it if everyone took two huge steps back from him. But he can't ask for that, because they're just trying to help, and he understands that. Even if every touch feels like it's burning.

Donnie is encouraged to drink his water, his tears drying up as he takes a bit of a mental break. Some may call it dissociating, he calls it vacation time. Then, much too soon for his tastes, the thin white sheet is folded at the end of the bed and he's lead through a series of small movements to ensure that his neck, shoulders, arms, hands and fingers had been unaffected by the injury. Which, thank goodness they were fine, because Donnie wouldn't know what he would do with himself if they hadn't been. It's how he invents, how he creates. If he couldn't do that anymore, on top of everything else... he wouldn't know what he would do with himself. There is a small delay in his left hand compared to his right, but with time that should sort itself out. "It's most likely just from your muscles being weak. We'll keep an eye on it, and with some physical therapy that should go away." Draxum explains.

Draxum then moves on to his plastron. Checking his lungs and abdominal functions. He can breathe just fine on his own, when he's not panicking, but his core muscles don't react when instructed the way they should. When he's told to cough, it's weak, and comes more from his throat, but he manages it either way. A small victory, but one he doesn't feel like celebrating after he fails to pull himself into a sitting position without using his arms. Not even with the help of carefully placed hands on his shell was he able to move up off the bed on his own free will, and that's when the tears come back, silent this time. Draxum tries to reassure him that physical therapy might be able to help with this, but the word might in that sentence doesn't really install a lot of faith in Donnie.

And then the physical examination moves further down, and Donnie wishes he could just be unconscious for this. He gets it, they need to make sure everything still works, and that includes everything. And Draxum is being very hands off about it, as much as he can, at least. But, god, does his dad have to be in the room during this? He can't stand an audience right now. His face burns the whole time, and he wants to ask him to leave, but he just can't. He can't find the words, and he doesn't want to be alone with Draxum, and he wants everyone to stop touching him.

And when Draxum finally moves on further down, he wishes he could say it gets better, but he'd honestly rather the embarrassment of the previous examination than the reminder of what he'd lost. He watched as Draxum moves his legs, pinches his toes, bends his knees, and he can't feel any of it. It's like as if he's watching it happen to someone else, the distinctive purple markings being the only reminder that these legs belong to him.

And everything just sucks. Like, genuinely sucks. Because this time, there's no promises of it getting better, of time or physical therapy being all he needs to regain function or feeling. Instead, all he gets is his father patting his hand, and Draxum avoiding his eyes, and he genuinely, genuinely, wants to scream at the top of his lungs.

But he doesn't. Because they're just trying to help.

So instead he clenches his jaw, grits his teeth, and closes his eyes until he knows for certain that the tears have stopped. Because come on Donatello, get a hold of yourself. You can kiss your emotionally unavailable bad boy image away with all this crying.

At the end of the examination, Draxum reads his notes to Donnie and Splinter, and he can't tell if his forefront emotion to hearing he can shit and piss on his own should be relief or embarrassment. Donnie, with a deadpan look, raises his hand to wave an imaginary flag at the news. This at least gets a small chuckle from his father, so he counts it as a win. The rest of the notes are what Draxum had already told him throughout the physical, but he reads them anyways, leaving pauses in between each one for questions. Of which, Donnie has none. For the first time in his life, he doesn't want to know. His mind is going blank and he feels a bone deep weariness pulling him into the pillows below him. The pain in his back and head are becoming piercing, the pain pulsing with each heartbeat, and he just wants to close his eyes.

Draxum must have noticed, because he turns to the iv and twists a knob slightly before turning back to the softshell, "Get some rest, Donatello. We can finish this conversation another time."

Donnie doesn't need to be told twice, ignoring the itching on his face from dried tears and his father letting go of his hand to pull the blanket back over him as he embraces unconsciousness with open arms.