Chapter Text
Sometimes, he might let himself say that staying bad was easy.
It wasn’t, god knows it wasn’t, and he never wanted it. Staying bad was a death sentence for him; all he was was improvement and innovation and constantly scrambling up and further towards perfection. If staying bad was truly easy, it wouldn’t hurt as badly as it did. He would never have forced himself out of that bed, the morning after he knew, and kept going.
But getting better was hard.
“You keep putting your foot up like that, you’re gonna pull a muscle.”
“A bit less backseat yoga from the class, please.”
“Just sayin’. You wake up sore and grumpy tomorrow, there’s no more ice in the freezer.”
“Is this your class? Do you want to teach the class, Miguel?”
“Sure. I’m an exercise expert, yo.”
“That was a rhetorical question. Also, how do you run out of ice? It’s like, the easiest thing to make.”
If anyone had asked Donnie, he would have said holding their weekly yoga session so soon would have been a bad idea. He had been managing just fine on his own for two weeks, and the bone-deep exhaustion that was so obvious on his siblings’ faces that even he could pick up on it told him they weren’t suggesting a return to it purely on their own enthusiasm.
But no one was asking Donnie, at least not about anything other than ‘what were you thinking?’ or ‘don’t you think you should take a break?’.
So here they were, again.
“Can’t you guys just be nice to each other for a minute? Raph has a headache.”
“You just don’t wanna admit you’re the one who eats the ice cubes out of the tray.”
“They’re a refreshing snack!”
“You chip your teeth, big guy, remember that I’m not a dentist.”
“Who would win; one magic giant mutant snapping turtle, or one ice cube?”
“You underestimate the power of these chompers.”
Donnie let out a quiet scoff and glanced at Leo.
“I’m just impressed you know how to use ‘rhetorical’ properly.”
He hated, hated the half second of a pause before Leo threw him one of his stupid grins in return.
“So you admit it. You admit I’m impressive.”
“Not what I said. I did not say that.”
“Yeah yeah, see you in court!”
“You lower my life expectancy every day.”
“Ah, my master plan. That’s why I save your butt so much.”
“So you can kill me with your own hands.”
“Exactly, you understand.”
Donnie rolled his eyes at that, muttering his signature groan under his breath. The action sent a rush of vertigo through the back of his head, but it was fine. This was a normal thing. This was ordinary.
And his bad leg took that moment to buckle.
Donnie was sent listing sideways, bumping against Raph’s side, who caught him with a large, steadying hand.
The touch sent a buzz of sharp, scuttling discomfort along his shoulder, and he quickly changed positions to lean against the wall instead.
And Raph was still touching him.
“Alright, no touchy-touchy the turtle today, actually. No good.”
As fast as it came, his brother’s hold was gone, but it still hovered a few inches from his arms. The proximity was still- bad. It was all bad.
“Alright. Is there- anythin’ else I can do for ya? You need help, or-“
“I’m fine. I just- need my shell back. It’s fine.”
Donnie forced his hands to curl around his bō and stumbled towards the corner where his battle shell sat just a little too far away.
“There’s no need to be pissy. The big guy was just trying to help, D.”
“Yeah. Well. Thanks. But I’m good.”
He was doing so good. He had been classic, snazzy Donatello for weeks now; he could keep doing it. It might even get them off his back a little.
“Wow. Very convincing, ‘tello.”
See! Even Leo thought so.
Donatello finally, finally reached his battle shell, head only spinning a little dangerously when he bent down to pull it over his shoulders.
Only. Only, when he put out his hands to grab the shell, his knuckles scraped against the armoured top. Another attempt had his fingers missing entirely, having to drag his hand through millimetres of thin air to form even a tentative grasp on the side of the heavy tech.
But it was fine, he had it, until green hands joined his on the side of the shell and-
“I SAID it’s fine, Raph. Back. Off.”
Donnie yanked the shell back into his own arms, which suddenly, obviously led to another shift in balance and, without a big brother to fall back against, the softshell was left clattering down, mercifully sideways, onto the floor.
A burst of red-hot pain shot through his front at the jostling, but it wasn’t even real, so it could fuck off, thanks.
“Oh, ouch, D. You good?”
“Just peachy.”
That had been Mikey, and Donnie really didn’t appreciate all the feedback from the peanut gallery, actually. Their voices grated on his ears; another blast of sensory input that his large and impressive brain had to shuffle through, pushing static in behind his eyes as they refused to focus.
“I hate to say I told you so, but-“
“You’re all impossible. I just -“
His mouth was too full of cotton, his jaw suddenly heavy and unwieldy, to finish his no doubt incredible and witty remark, so instead, rearranging himself into a sitting position only slightly slower than usual, he flashed them one sign that he knew they all remembered.
“Oh, real mature.”
“The forbidden finger.”
“Mikey, please don’t say it like that.”
Taking a few deep breaths, Donnie carefully shrugged on his battle shell, his shoulders buzzing their usual protest at the return of the near-constant strain. But it was fine.
Absolutely fine; enough that he noticed the slight off-balance the spider shell arms had now. It had been a difficult fix, considering he only had his own hands to work with now, and it wasn’t good enough. The metal hadn’t bent back in place properly, and now one of the arms was slightly shorter than the other. Even mystic powers wouldn’t be a permanent fix for that.
No good. He might as well scrap the whole structure of the limbs, rebuild with a new mould to ensure that everything was as it should be.
He should do that.
“So, we stoppin’ now or what? The man feels a lunch burrito calling his name.”
“Is ‘the man’ in the room with us? Because I know you’re not talkin’ about my lunch burrito that I made for me. ”
“What? But it’s got the good cheese in it!”
“Yeah! You think I get that stuff for you guys?”
“You don’t?”
It would probably be better if he fixed that first, actually. He couldn’t get anything done while he was like this.
Because he needed the arms now.
He would be making newer and better versions of these arms until he died, just like his battle shell - just like everything that was broken and bad and not good enough.
Everything he made with his own two hands would be imperfect, after all.
Yeah.
Better to scrap and rebuild.
No good being off-balance forever.
——
Something was wrong, again.
April could practically taste it in the air, past the tension and strange relief that apparently took permanent residence in the Hamato household.
Something was wrong, and it was still there.
Her nerves were pretty fried from not just the past few weeks, but years, so it would have been easy enough to write off. Even easier, with the tension of Donnie’s confession still hanging over them weeks later.
All of his symptoms were completely normal, especially after Donnie had classified it had been the lack of oxygen to his brain that had caused the damage, not just general “blood loss” like Leo had told her. Dumbass.
But as upset as everyone had been, it wasn’t like this was the first time any of them had been permanently injured. Raph was still learning to fight without proper depth perception, after all, and none of their minds had come out of their escapades completely unscathed over the years.
And this didn’t feel like that. It wasn’t the aching shockwaves of a fight, or the buzzing of an argument just under the surface - both were present, but she knew what they meant.
This was too quiet . Like something forcibly stuffed deep into the back of a closet, scraping to get out. Too small to hear, but just enough to sense.
It was, just a bit, like the first few days after Donnie’s accident.
So, more secrets.
And who was April if not a gold star reporter?
“Working on anything new, D?”
They were hanging out in Donnie’s lab - or, more accurately, April was hanging out in Donnie’s lab while the turtle himself paid very little attention to her at all.
His eye suddenly twitched, focusing. He’d been staring intently at a blueprint in front of him - though, by the reaction, that hadn’t been the thing that he was actually honed in on.
“Yeah? What?”
April rolled her eyes.
“Jeez, spaceman. You working on anything new? You were still updating the pods last time I was here, but you’ve cleared them away.”
He still didn’t seem to fully process what she was saying, quiet and once again half-bent over the blueprint he wasn’t looking at.
“Uh, yeah. Gotta- gotta fix up my spider arms first. New mould. You know how it is.”
With a critical eye, especially with Donnie so focused on anything except her right now, she looked him over.
If April had seen Donnie like this a year ago, she would have immediately entered panic mode. He was shaking all through his arms and back, crooked and quiet, pupils a little too dilated. He looked pale, which made his green skin almost grey.
He hadn’t responded actively to her asking about his work. Last year, that would have been cause for hospitalisation all on its own.
Now, she knew it meant a “Bad Day™️”.
She hadn’t seen most of Donnie’s worst days after the accident. Neither had many people, April suspected; as evidenced by the past few months, Donnie would sooner dig into the walls and live there than show when he was struggling. She was sure she must have talked to him on some of his worse days before, but Donnie was a terrible liar for everything except his own health. Another thing clearly evidenced.
The first time she had seen a Bad Day™️ properly in person was only the week prior. By the way Donnie had stumbled into the kitchen, downed a handful of painkillers, and then sat on the floor against the counter for the entire morning and late into the afternoon with a scrambled explanation of what boiled down to “it’s worse when I move too much”, it hadn’t been the first Donnie had had.
Judging by the fact that Donnie was awake and moving today, this wasn’t quite as bad as that.
Still, historically, even on his worst days - one recent and particularly memorable occasion being when he had had a migraine with an aura and had still added confetti cannons to the tank by the end of the day - Donnie wasn’t inclined to ruminate.
Rumination was generally reserved for social situations where Donnie couldn’t find an easy, clean solution and worked himself up about it. In an argument between his brothers, Donnie had just started blinding agreeing with one side to get out of wasting so much time.
He wasn’t even fiddling with anything. That didn’t have to be important. April felt the need to add it to the list regardless.
“Yeah? And how are blueprints for a-“ April craned her neck a little to look over his shoulder, “- dancing toaster going to help?”
Donnie glared at her without much heat, his face a slightly darker green.
“Ok, well, first, it’s a disco toaster. Don’t devalue the bedazzling feature.”
“Why would anyone need bedazzled toast, Donnie?”
“Ah, I didn’t realise you hate joy and whimsy. I’ll be sure to add that to my files. And I’ve not started remoulding the arms yet. I’m still… considering how to approach it.”
April made a face at that; not that it mattered, as Donnie looked away, seemingly set to resume staring into the middle distance.
“Probably good to decide sooner or later. Don’t think I’ve seen you brood so hard over a project in a long time.”
And there. There it was. Just a pause where there usually would have already been a quick dismissal; a tiny thing, really, especially considering Donnie was clearly in a lot of pain and dizzy enough to make himself nauseous sitting down.
But there was that almost-silent something.
Strangely, April felt like she had when she’d been a kid, coming back to school after missing an eventful afternoon. Like she’d just narrowly sidestepped something important.
“What’re you puzzlin’ through over there, anyway? Anything your girl can help with?”
Donnie was very still for a few seconds, his gaze intensifying even as he didn’t look at her. For a moment, April didn’t think he was going to answer, too lost in his own thoughts, before he sucked in a sudden breath.
“If I remake them right now, they’re still gonna be off balance. I can’t use the spider arms to remake the spider arms, especially with the state these are in.”
He knocked his battle shell for emphasis.
“So, I’m going to have to do it the old fashioned way. So they’ll still be off balance. Because of my hands.“
“Any reason you couldn’t just reshape the current legs?”
Donnie’s fingers tightened around the edge of his desk a little.
“This is the result of reshaping the current legs. I had to do it by hand . So it’s wrong. It’ll never not be wrong, now. So I have to remake them. No point being sentimental.”
That was… a bit of a strange way to say that.
“That’s a strange way to say that. Why didn’t you just call me? I’m down to help with this stuff.”
Donnie gave her a Look, which she responded to with an unimpressed one of her own.
“Yeah, I know you don’t like help. I thought we’d established that you need it anyway.”
“Sure.”
“So, what can I do?”
Donnie scrubbed a hand roughly across his face, idly spinning himself in his chair a few times, before stopping as his face turned a few shades greyer with nausea.
He flopped further into his chair dramatically, making a long, frustrated noise.
“If- fine. We’ll try reshaping the metal again. But you need to do everything I tell you.”
Normally, that kind of request would have been met with a who the hell do you think you’re talking to, but-
It’s not like he’d never asked for help with his projects before. But this felt different.
——
“So? How did we do?”
It had been the worst mistake of her life, agreeing to follow Donatello’s every whim. The guy was precise and persnickety and even when he tried to hide that he wasn’t pleased with how she did something, she could tell by the persistent twitch in his eye.
It also probably hadn’t been the best day for Donnie to be doing stuff like this. April didn’t know if she’d ever get another chance.
Donnie stood, propped up on the newly reshaped legs, rocking back and forth slightly to test.
A frustrated snarl-bark tore its way out of his throat, and he tore his way out of his battle shell as quickly as he could, dropping it hard to the ground; his legs nearly giving out but barely, barely staying strong as Donnie leant on his desk for support.
“It’s not right.”
Ok, a delicate situation . April shuffled closer a little - not wanting to corner him, but be a solid presence of support.
“What was wrong with them? We triple checked the length and stuff-“
“It’s not right! They were- it didn’t feel - they’re- they’re wrong. Off-balance. I can’t- I can’t live with these- it’s not good enough. I have to start over. There’s no other way.”
And as much as April had known that this probably wasn’t about the arms… this definitely wasn’t about the arms.
“What are you talking about, D?”
Donnie banged hard onto his desk, teeth bared, body shivering hard . He should probably have sat down before he hurt himself. April knew this probably wasn’t the time.
“This! All of this! I can’t- this needs to be fixed, but I can’t fix this, so I need to start over. They’re no use to anyone like this.”
He breathed harshly, and April didn’t say anything. She wanted to, wanted to push and probe, but if journalism had taught her anything-
Donnie finally sat back down, bonelessly. He reminded April, not for the first time, of a puppet with its strings cut. She waited.
“There’s- Dad was talking to Draxum, few weeks ago. About me. About what to do about me.”
April narrowed her eyes.
“What have I told you about listening to that guy?”
It didn’t matter which of the men she was referring to.
Donnie looked up, staring at a point over April’s shoulder absently. He looked exhausted all of a sudden, like all the frustration had been drained out of him with his temper tantrum.
He was silent for a few more moments.
“There’s- you can use mystic energy to heal a lot of stuff, so… so he thought maybe they could fix me.”
A faint rumble. A train was running late.
“…maybe? Sounds kinda risky. What did… what did Drax say?”
April tried to meet his eyes. It didn’t feel like Donnie could see her at all.
“Eh.”
“The hell you mean eh?”
Donnie curled in on himself a little - not intimidated; it seemed more like his shoulders were dragging him downwards. His expression stayed unreadable.
“There’s- it’s complicated. I’m figuring it out.”
April gave him another unimpressed look.
“Donnie, you know if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll just go and find out myself. I’m not an idiot.”
Donnie’s tired, semi-glassy pupils narrowed in on her. There was something there - fear? Resignation?
Gotcha.
“…mystic healing works like time travel. They could probably heal the nerve damage no problem, but-“
“But resetting your brain isn’t the best idea.”
Donnie let out a low huff. It might have been intended to be a laugh. It wasn’t one.
“It would… revert the synapses. New turtle. New Donnie.”
April let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand down her face.
She stood up, making her way to sit on the floor by his chair, and leant against him gently. He didn’t move away.
“That… that really sucks, D. I’m so sorry.”
‘Fixing’ Donatello had never really occurred to her. Well- she was definitely interested in mystic powers, and she didn’t want her friend to suffer, but…
His condition wasn’t really a game ender. It sucked, it sucked so bad, and it scared the crap out of her every time she thought about it, but… it was Donnie. More than that, it was these guys. She knew without really thinking about it that this could never trip them up in any way that counted.
But Donnie didn’t think like that.
He’d want a fix of some kind, faster than his yoga or any brain plasticity exercises. Thinking you might find one and then…
It sucked, objectively, to hear there was no easy solution for her friend’s problems. She knew it sucked for him infinitely more.
“Hm.”
April glanced up at Donnie at the noise, scrutinising.
“…have you talked to any of the guys about this?”
There was a long stretch of silence, in which her friend’s face was, as ever, infuriatingly blank. He looked almost bored.
“No. There’s been- there were factors I needed to consider, before informing them.”
“Like what?”
And then-
He didn’t say anything.
And… what?
April felt something prickle on the back of her neck.
“D?”
Donnie remained silent, other than slouching minutely forward. And that was-
Didn’t it sound a little like-?
“Donnie. D. Tell me you’re not considering magic lobotomy as a real option.”
And it wasn’t a rhetorical statement. April was… because surely she’d just jumped to a weird conclusion, right?
There was no way he would actually-
“It’s not- I’m… weighing all my options. Right now.”
April laughed a little, half hysterical. What?
“What? What the fuck, Donnie?”
Donnie shifted again, but April was hardly paying attention, because-
Because what the fuck?
What the hell was he talking about?
“I- I’m not saying it’s an option I’m actively considering -“
“Oh, good! So it’s just a possibility that you could brain-wipe yourself. That makes me feel much better.”
She felt so sick. It was-
“April-“
“I’m not doing this with you. We’re not doing this. You take that option off the table now, or I am telling Leo. So help me god, Donatello, don’t test me.”
She didn’t know exactly why she reached for Leo of all people. A few years ago, it definitely would have been Raph she threatened him with.
But, well. Leo had been batting pretty well in the emotional conversation game recently, however much it surprised her.
And she wasn’t going to do this alone.
She’d had conversations like this with human friends before, too.
And Donnie still wasn’t answering, just staring at her with a blank sort of confusion.
Confusion?
“ Donnie ?”
“I’m not- it’s never been-“
“Take. It off. The table.”
And she was furious. Because this whole time, he had been- had he really been-?
“…April, I can’t just disregard-“
“ Oh my god. Wrong answer, Donatello.”
She already had her phone out. This was-
She wasn’t playing this game with him.
“A-“
But Leo was already on the line.
“Yo, Leo? Your brother is literally being the biggest, dumbest idiot on the entire fuckin’ planet.”
“What else is new? Also, which one?”
April snorted, but there was very little humour in it. She pointedly avoided looking at Donnie’s frustrated face as he tried to kill her with his mind.
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, dumbass.
“Donnie thinks lobotomising himself would be a good solution to his problems.”
“It’s not a l-“
“Donatello, I swear to god, you say another word to me right now-“
“Huh? April, what?”
April rolled her eyes aggressively. She was so angry.
She was terrified.
“I’m gonna come up to you and explain. Then I’m going the hell home. Alright?”
Because this was-
She wasn’t doing this with him. She had killed herself over and over doing it before, and she wasn’t doing it with him.
At least, not right now.
“April-“
“I’ll come round again tomorrow, D. We’ll talk soon.”
Because she hated them - they reminded her of her worst classes - but for him?
Goddamnit, April was going to make a presentation.
——
Leo was tired.
No, that was an understatement. Leo was exhausted.
He felt like he had been running a constant uphill marathon for months, years, and for the millionth time, he wished their father had just let Raph stay the team leader.
At least then he hadn’t felt so responsible. Nothing had been his fault, back then, even when it inarguably was.
Although, was it really leadership that felt so heavy, or was it just time?
Leo felt like an old man, sometimes, and he wasn’t even technically even an adult yet. This was probably how Raph already had stress wrinkles at 18.
But god. Jokes aside, it felt like this family was trying to kill him sometimes.
“What the hell is wrong with you.”
“I was never going to do it.”
“You’re a bad liar, so don’t start. You wouldn’t have tabled it if it was never an option.”
“That’s- I had a lot of other options. It was low on the list.”
“Yeah? So you haven’t been thinking about it off and on for weeks?”
“I don’t know why you would think I have been.”
“Maybe all the weird stuff you said to April about starting again?”
“That wasn’t- I got frustrated, I wasn’t-“
“And what about all the weird stuff you said to me? About fixing you?”
Yelling probably wasn’t what Leo actually wanted to do right now. His brain hadn’t really slowed down enough for him to consider much on that point.
“Because for some reason he’d prefer to not even be himself at all than to carry on as he is!”
April hadn’t been gentle about it, to him or Donnie. Leo wouldn’t have expected her to; if anything, it made the whole situation carry a more sibling-argument tone, instead of-
Instead of whatever the hell this was.
Because Leo’s brain was barely even awake, even functioning, and all of a sudden Donnie was being pushed towards him with an instruction of “tell him off and keep an eye on him for me”, and it was-
He hadn’t even considered this.
Donnie didn’t even have the decency to look uncomfortable - mildly irritated, at best, as though this whole conversation was just inconvenient to him.
As though Leo hadn’t been struck, suddenly and harshly, with the fact that his brother had been scheming-
Well. Leo wasn’t an idiot. He knew what this looked like.
“Listen. I don’t care how low on the list it was. It shouldn’t be on the list. Honestly, I’m a little upset that there is a list, but I know the type of shit you pull. If you’re- if you’re upset about the situation- I get it. I don’t understand how you feel, but- but you talk to us, man. You don’t go and do this shit.”
“I’m not suicidal, Leo.”
Donnie spat the word at him like it had offended him, which- ok, Leo got that. The word was pissing him off a whole lot right now too.
“Then what, Donnie? Because I know Dad didn’t say “oh boy Draxie, that’s just swell! Please kill my child for me!”. I bet he dropped it right away, when he found out that’s what it did. So you can’t even fall back on good old daddy issues this time. He just wanted to find a way to help you, you moron. Yeah, him trying to “fix” you is garbage, but that’s because I know how it feeds into your mechanic mentality. None of us want this for you, Don. It’s not an option.”
Even if it was a non-issue, just something Donnie had been carrying in his back pocket-
That sort of shit cannot be anyone’s backup plan. That should never have any chance of happening, because-
Because then you know it’s always an option, to give up.
“…I have to be fixed, Leo. If this is a way I can do that, then… then I have to take it.”
And of course, because of course it was always worse, because it always got worse -
I have to take it.
Leo felt something akin to cold, icy hands around his throat.
“Jesus, when did we go from ‘I’d never do it’ to ‘I have to do this’? What happened to low on the list? Don’t do this to me, asshole!”
Everything was rapidly slipping through Leo’s fingers, from why would he ever even consider this to-
Red on the floor, red on his hands- that’s his brother, that’s his brother, what if it’ll never be his brother ever again-
“I don’t actually care if it’s what Dad wanted, to be honest, even if that is what he meant. Honestly, hey, fuck Dad, Donnie! Fuck him; you do not need to be fixed, especially, especially if that’s the cost. He never should have asked about that shit in the first place, actually.”
That probably wasn’t exactly true, but Leo felt dizzy and furious and in that moment, he wanted to kill any concept of quick fixes, because they were siren songs; because they had only ever always ended up hurting him and his family. Mostly from Leo himself leaping towards them, admittedly, but the point stood.
“That’s death, Don, you get that? That’s you dying, for what? You get dizzy. Your coordination’s bad, whatever. You don’t need to die for that.”
“It’s not death. I’d still be alive, and I have a teacher program I’ve been workin-“
“Stop. Just- stop it. Don’t do this. It is not that deep, Donnie. I know what Dad thinks is important to you or whatev-“
“It’s not about Dad!”
Was he really-? Was this really -?
“Then what is this about?! What, you still think we’re just gonna kick you out because you need a few extra gizmos to be up to your usual impossible standards? Don’t be thick, D. We still need you on this team. We’re not gonna abandon you-“
“I know. I know you won’t.”
“Then what is your fucking problem?!”
The whole room was buzzing. The whole of Leo was buzzing, inside and out, an old terror seizing his bones. It wasn’t like when he had heard of Don’s diagnosis. It wasn’t even the cold, aching fear of seeing his brother’s lifeless body splayed out on his lab floor, or seeing his big brother wrapped in alien life, ready to strike.
It felt more like a concentrated blade of the sharp, panicked terror he’d felt when hearing what Mikey had almost done on his own to try and get him back from the prison dimension.
The feeling that one of his brothers was going to die, was going to choose to disappear, and if they really, truly wanted to, there was absolutely nothing substantial that Leo could do about that.
His breaths came in more like gasps, like he was running, running, towards or away from another problem, another injury, another death he could never, would never arrive in time to prevent.
“What is so important about this that you’re considering wiping your brain for it? You don’t want to inconvenience us? You think you’re useless like this? News flash, you stupid idiot! You know what would be way more inconvenient? You not remembering your fucking name. You really, truly think that that would be better for anyone? Oh, my brother doesn’t recognise me or his own reflection, but at least his hands don’t shake anymore! Give me a break. What is this really about, huh? Some kind of suicidal death wish? An experiment? Because I know you can’t be trying to be selfless here, you fucking moron.”
And there was an image, for the briefest of seconds, of the weeks after the Kraang. Of Donnie, post his family’s several interventions, yelling about how incredibly self-centred the stunt he had pulled was. About how throwing himself into martyrdom without consulting his team first wasn’t what a leader did. About how stupid and careless and delusional he had been, thinking his sacrifice was anything but an attempt to atone for some mistake he couldn’t fix without suffering the barest minimum of effort.
It hadn’t felt fair at the time. What had Donnie known about sacrifice?
“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me. Tell me why you think you need to do this. ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it just looks like you’re freaking the fuck out, and grabbing the first solution you can find.”
How could he possibly repay a sacrifice like the one that Raph had made for him, giving himself up to the Kraang to save Leo’s life? How could anyone possibly make up for all the damage he caused just by being himself?
How could he possibly make up for the failure he caused if not with his own life?
“You’re getting worked up over n-“
“Donatello.”
Being the second youngest, and the coolest leader this side of the multiverse, Leo never got much of a chance to use the Big Brother Voice. He didn’t really have much space to revel in its use now, though.
Leo worked himself through a breathing exercise as silence muffled the room; made harder still by the fact that he refused to let his muscles relax until the danger had passed.
He’d probably never get to relax, at this rate.
Leo watched his brother fidget out of the corner of his eye. What would you have needed?
“Have we been doing this wrong, D?”
The sudden response shocked his twin, if the head jerk Leo caught out of the corner of his eye was any indication.
“W-. What?”
Lowering himself onto the carpet, suddenly not trusting his legs to keep him upright, Leo let out a long hiss of breath through his teeth.
He really, actually, didn’t want to yell today.
“I mean. You- I- jeez. God, Don, I was so scared when we found you, you know? And I had to save you. And I did, in the end, but it was- your heart had stopped. You weren’t breathing. You were dead, in my arms, and if you hadn’t come back… that would have been on me, you know? I didn’t want to go down and check on you. I would have failed as a medic, and as a leader, and- and as a brother.
“Every day, I- I’m so lucky. I’m really lucky, Don. Because you’re still here, man. You’re not- what happened to you is bad, man, genuinely. I only saw it from the outside, and it- and I still dream about it. About you not making it back. About things being so much worse.”
Leo had had enough emotional conversations for a lifetime these past months. He was wrung thin, who even feels this much all the time?
But-
“If- I’d get it, is what I’m saying. If you were a little messed up by it.”
Leo had been at rock bottom, in that portal. What a momentous fuck up he must have been to get there. To have to get there, no match against an alternate version of himself who had fought these things, unflinching, until the day he had died protecting a boy that Leo barely knew.
Of course the portal had been the option he’d reached for. Donnie had been right, after all. He had to atone.
Back in the present, silence was once again king as Leo’s brother swayed slightly, still standing stoic next to him, metal arms dug into every wall and corner to hold him that way. Leo couldn’t catch his eye, but that was alright.
Say something, though, hermano.
“…it was a little jarring. I’d only just rebuilt the lab, you know. It- sucked, having to fix it again. But I’m always fixing stuff. So. I should have known, you know.”
It wasn’t much. It was barely anything. But-
“You feel bad. That you didn’t see it coming.”
Scoff. “Obviously. I’ve said this to you guys already, Leo. I had a plan for everything, anything else. This wasn’t something I predicted. This wasn’t something I could predict.”
“Yeah, I get that. You’re frustrated. But I more meant- is. A lot of this has been about, you know. Saving us the trouble. I was wondering if-“
Leo huffed. Why was this still so difficult? Would it always be this hard?
“-if you maybe felt bad that you were- that it happened in the first place? That it was something that you- that you did?”
He hadn’t meant for it to come out accusatory. He didn’t actually blame his brother for anything. He didn’t want to blame him for all of this.
He, of all people, knew that accidents happened.
But-
If his brother’s full body flinch was anything to go by, he’d touched a nerve. And some not-so small part of him thought that it was about damn time.
“Yeah, well- it was a malfunction. They happen. It’s not a big deal. It was just- a bad situation. I fixed it. I’m still fixing it. That’s what I do.”
It was exactly the sentiment Leo had seen him display in their family meeting. But it felt different, somehow.
“And, what? You think this is going to fix it? You think this will fix anything?”
“I don’t know, Leo! Regardless of popular opinion, I don’t actually know how to fix everything!”
“No one’s asking you to fix everything. No one’s asking you to be perfect, Don.”
And suddenly, suddenly, Leo felt wrong-footed as his brother pushed off from the wall, stalking out towards the door, a snarl following his steps.
A flash of panic surged through him.
“W- where are you going? We’re not finished!”
“I can’t do this right now. I’m- I’m going to work on some stuff. I’ll see you later.”
It was too sudden.
“No- no, hey - stop-“
Look at me. Look at me.
“Don’t touch me!”
Leo pulled his hand back at the glint of gnashing teeth.
Fear. Donnie was afraid.
Crashing, stumbling, snapping. A bruised shell and unseeing yellow eyes.
But it was wrong. It still felt wrong.
Leo scrabbled to find something, anything, when-
“You’ll die, you dumb idiot! You’ll all die if I’m like this!”
…
What?
“What? What are you-“
Donnie made a strangely guttural noise in the back of his throat, quickly grabbing something shiny and metal and throwing it hard against the wall.
When he rounded on Leo, the slider felt pinned .
“I know you won’t leave me behind! You feel obligated now. I was scared you- of course I was worried that you would, but that’s- that’s irrational, because if I can’t make it better, if I can’t fix it, then you should.”
Leo felt like he had been thrown right back into the portal again; floating, aimless - without a single chance of feeling the ground beneath his feet again.
“What are you talk-“
“If I’m broken, and even my- and I can’t fix it, not properly - even the tech I make to help is uneven because I have to still-“
…
Another pause, but only for a second. Donnie’s back straightened.
“…you were right. Before.”
The air was delicate. Breakable.
“Right about what?”
Donnie finally broke eye contact, expression closed off and unreadable.
“You’ll need to support me more in the field. Always be aware of me. I know how you fight when you’re distracted. I thought - I thought my tech could be enough. I thought it was enough. But I’m still-“
And through all of his brother’s bravado, through the layers of tech and metal and barbed wire he had crafted so densely to protect it, Leo saw Donnie’s heart. Soft. Vulnerable.
“I said it before. If I can’t fix this, then we’re working with broken tech. You have to- sometimes, there’ll always be a weak point no matter what you try. A fault line. So you have to rebuild.”
“Like S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.?”
A breath.
And there, was when it shattered; the atmosphere around them splintering like old wood.
“What… what does S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. have to do with this?!”
Turn back. Turn back.
“You still have his code on file, right? You couldn’t fix the old him. So why not just make a new one?”
Stop talking. This is too far.
Well, sorry, Raph-sounding voice in his head, but it was this, or-
Finally, emotion lit up in his brother’s eyes. Fear-pain-anger-grief and back to anger, all in the constriction of his pupils.
“That’s-“
“It wouldn’t be him, would it?”
“That’s not- his code developed on its own, it’s not the same- “
“But you said he was useful, right? Why would it matter if it’s the same code or not, if he’s helpful ? He as he was can’t be salvaged, so why not start ov-“
“Shut up.”
“It’s not different, Donnie! He wouldn’t be the same, and he wouldn’t be who you remember, and there is no way that if he was here right now, damaged but still himself, that you would ever choose to scrap him and start over. You don’t even want to when he’s not here.
“Why the fuck would we want some brain wiped version of you? How would that be helpful, other than replacing my goddamn brother with some- some replica who’s not even close to him? You- god, for someone’s who’s supposed to be smart, you’re so stupid! It’s fine! You will get better. And- and even if you don’t-“
Deep breaths.
“Even if you don’t, even if you’re exactly this bad forever, we will still be a hundred times better and more powerful with you on the team. We’ll still be better than all the mutants and humans and yōkai and weird pink aliens combined because this doesn’t- define you, or make you worth less, or make you broken. How many times do I have to say this? God, you’re not a- a toaster, Donnie. You’re not a machine.”
And that was it, really, wasn’t it?
Donnie would cut himself open and replace every bone with tech if it meant he could work harder; more efficiently. He had always talked more through his machines than his words, and every attempt to perfect them - a few of the worst gifts ever coming to his mind - spoke to how he felt about improvement, updates. But-
“You know we’re not perfect. You’ve- you weren’t always the best at it, but you change things to suit us - our problems. You’ve said you love us as we are. You’re so full of yourself all the time , and it drives me crazy. So why do you think that you’d ever need to- to scrub away everything that makes you- you, for our sakes?”
“I…”
Donnie turned away, almost collapsing to the floor as he sat, words almost poisonous at the emotions that were forced through them.
“I won’t… you guys almost died, before. I won’t let it happen again. Especially not- not because of me. Because of something I did.”
Leo let out a disbelieving laugh, feeling manic and weightless and everything he’d felt far too many times these past few months.
“And I’m not losing you, either. Dumbass.”
A hug probably wouldn’t go down great right now. Still, Leo damn near collapsed next to him, too.
“Look, it’s just like Raph’s blindspot. Or Mikey’s arms. It’s a change, but we work with it. We help them. And we still kick ass, you know? It doesn’t mean we’re any weaker, just… older.”
“I’ve been working on braces for Mikey. Maybe even a working prosthetic for Raph, if I can figure a way for it to connect to his nervous system. Or his Ninpō, I guess.”
Leo snorted.
“Yeah, but you’re not doing that to make them useful, are you? It’s because they asked you. Because you want to help them.”
The brothers sat for a while. They’d been doing a lot more of that, recently.
“If I had showed them to you guys, and they exploded - the turrets. You probably would have… they would have hurt you.”
“Probably. Wouldn’t have been the first time.”
A small shove against Leo’s shoulder.
“Shut up. You could have died. And there wouldn’t have been anyone around to breathe you guys back to life.”
…
“I caused this. I wasn’t careful enough. You guys won’t pay for my failures.” A snort. “You fail enough on your own for that.”
Leo shoved him back.
“This isn’t a fix, Don. This is suicide. And I thought we agreed we weren’t doing that for each other. Especially not for something like this.”
The slight creaking of metal. Someone was listening.
Probably Raph. Leo hoped he had heard enough.
…
“I can’t watch you die again.”
“Yeah, well. That makes two of us, bro.”