Perchance To Dream

By: Teoryn

Disclaimer: I do not own the turtles and I am making no money off of this story.

Synopsis/Author's Note: Donatello is trying to learn how to live with his recurring nightmares after being captured and tortured by Bishop. This is a one shot story that was inspired by 'Blood Rites' that I am still writing. This, however, can be read on its own without prior knowledge of that story, and anyone who is following 'Blood Rites' nothing about the ending will be given away here. Enjoy! And please let me know what you think of it, leave a review. I always like to know how I can improve my writing. (-:

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He sat alone on the sofa. The lair was dark and quiet except for his little corner. Donatello had a lamp on as well as the tvs. The volume was turned down low so as not to disturb anyone else but he needed the dull continual hum that it made. Just as he needed the soft glow of the lamp, that gentle, calming glow that offered to keep all of the shadows at bay.

There was a time when he didn't know this unease and he missed it. He envied his brothers their ability to sleep peacefully through the night. He smiled softly to himself, there was also a time when he would chide Mikey gently about his on going need for a night light, but then his life changed. Now he was the one who held onto light in the depths of darkness. Light was a closer friend to him than his bo staff, it offered him a protection he couldn't find any other way.

Darkness, it wasn't the void itself that bothered him; it was what was hiding in the void that made a deep chill run through his bones. Every time it encroached upon him, every time he felt the bone aching wariness wash over him from days without sleep, dread would fill his soul. He knew the moment he closed his eyes those memories would come back to him. He would feel the pain, as ripe and fresh as the day it happened. He would hear the sound of his own voice screaming; see the cold impassive eyes of a man without a conscience.

Donatello didn't beg, but try as he might he couldn't stop the scream that pushed forth from his lips. It was a sound that escaped his control as pain became his only sensation. The wretched sound would reverberate off the surrounding walls, falling back to his own ears. It didn't sound like his voice, it was too detached, too alien of a sound to have come from him, yet he knew that it had. If only he could so easily detach himself from the memories that plagued him almost a year after.

Unwillingly in his minds eye he saw Bishop again, standing over him like some demented Frankenstein. Half wasted away from radiation burns and half insane from the continual pain. For the first time Bishop wore his soul on the outside of his skin, for everyone to see. They could see the dark creature he truly was. Like a moving, breathing portrait of Dorian Gray escaped from the easel upon which it sat. Gone was the pale skin and in its place was festering welts and red angry patched of raw skin. There was no inch of Bishop that had been spared, the scent of burnt flesh and rotting wounds chocked Donatello as Bishop brought about his tools, brittle from rust and misuse.

There had been nothing he could do, Donatello tried to escape the nightmare but the leather that had held him down would not budge. No one was coming to save him. No one knew where he was, no one knew to look for him. He was alone. Donatello had fought to keep that thought back as he felt the rusty blade bite into his flesh. Blood running down his arm in rivets, and then Bishop had brought over the saw.

Donatello shook his head violently trying to clear it of the images. He didn't want to remember! However, it was as if the memories had a life of their own. It seemed to him that he had no more control over them than he had control of the rise and fall of the moon. He gazed at the blinking screens of the tvs in front of him, perhaps if he kept his eyes focused on something then it would be easier, easier to try and forget.

Random flashing images turned into random vague lights. Losing shape and meaning to his brain. They were being replaced by yet another memory. A cell, cold bars buried in dark, dank stone. Light far off, too far, because he was surrounded in shadow. They reach out for both his physical form and his spirit. Dark fingers with no shape griped him tighter, fanning his panic and disorientation. Desperately, he tried to break the power of its hold over him. Moving further back into his prison, trapped.

Donatello again shook himself from the memory, escaping for but a moment. His escape was a short lived one. He felt himself slipping once more into the darkness; the void was reaching out to him with sharp claws. One horror was traded for another within seconds. He could see a body, his body, on the ground stretched out at his feet. Death had come for him and there was nothing left but bones, his bones. Time had ravished them without mercy and without care. Bishop had succeeded in bringing an end to his life and no one knew any better. None of his brothers knew that he lay beneath their feet, turning to dust.

He knew that they were his bones; the tattered peace of purple fabric told him all he needed to know. Torn and faded, his mask lay unmistakable against impersonal stone floor. He reached out for it but didn't know why, he didn't want to hold it, didn't want to feel it. Yet, that didn't stop him from grasping the fabric, holding it in his calloused hand. As he had done a thousand times before, he looked upon the mask without truly seeing it. Perhaps some deep part of him thought that if he held onto it long enough, he could breathe life back into it. Change the fate it had suffered. Somehow affect the fate he had suffered.

He was shaken out of his reprieve by the sound of shuffling feet and a soft mumbling voice. Normal sounds that he had heard before but now they carried an overwhelming feeling of dread for Donatello. Bishop was coming back for him. Panic was closing in on him at such a fierce pace that Donatello was truly at a loss of what to do. Years of training left him and he began to tremble. Donatello knew what fear was, he knew it far too well.

There was no escape as the faint light turned into Donatello's enemy as it gave another monster a shadow that was coming for him. In panic he looked for an escape but it was no use, he already knew that there was no way out. There never really was. The bent shadow of a mad man slowly reached out for him and he moved back further into a corner of the cell. As the shadow crept up his leg, Don felt his life ebbing away from him as the cold darkness descended upon him. He wanted to scream but try as he might no sound would come forth. Taking a deep breath to fill his lungs he then tried to push it out but still nothing. No one would ever hear him scream, no one would know that he was about to die. No one would ever come looking for him.

Despair crashed down upon his shoulders, bringing him to his knees as Bishop entered the cell. He could do nothing to stop Bishop as he laid one rotten hand on his shoulder, but something was loosed within him at the contact. Donatello could finally scream.

"Donatello!" the voice was distant and not part of the nightmare. It froze the world Donatello was trapped within.

The voice calling his name seemed so far away, but it offered him what he didn't have and that was hope. Like a blind man he reached for the voice, grasping onto the tale ends. He allowed the sound to pull him from the darkness he hadn't even realized he had fallen so deeply into.

Donatello opened his eyes and was assaulted by light. The sound of some late night infomercial was humming behind him. A gentle hand was draped over his shoulder and he glanced over to see his brother Leonardo. Donnie knew instantly what had happened, he had allowed himself to fall asleep. The nightmares had come, sinking their teeth deep into his psyche. There was a clock on the far wall and he glanced at it. At the most he had perhaps dozed, if you could call it that, for ten minutes at most. His dark dreams needed very little time to break him.

A year, it had been a whole year and he still wasn't any better. He couldn't sleep and when he did he was always plagued by dark painful memories. Donnie rubbed his hand over his eyes. He was so weary. Before all of this it had not been uncommon for him to go without sleep while he tried to finish some sort of project, but he was always able to sleep a peaceful dreamless sleep afterwards. Now, now he stayed awake to avoid the dreams. Working his body to a level of exhaustion that he felt physical pain.

In the beginning April had gone to the doctor and was able to secure a prescription for him. Pretending she was the one with the disorder, or more appropriately, the one who could not sleep. She gave the pills to Donnie and they kept it a secret between them. He had never told her what had happened, well, not in any kind of detail anyway. Donatello had told her just enough so that she was willing to help him.

Keeping secretes from Leonardo was down near impossible. It was only a matter of time until he figured out something was amiss. Although, Donatello had hopped he would have had more time. Leo had been suspicious for a good month before he finally said something, no thanks to Mikey's cat. Don had the bottle securely hidden under his pillow; it was a good hiding place that is until Klunk found it. Round bottles roll very nicely when they are pushed by inquisitive paws. Mikey's cat was far from a kitten anymore, old in fact and very rarely played with anything. However, it was as if the fates were conspiring against Donatello. Needless to say, the bottle ended up in the dojo of all things. Leo, being the first up and the practice maniac that he was, obviously was the one who found the bottle of prescription sleep aids. After reading the list of side affects: vomiting, diarrhea, headache, liver problems, muscle cramps, indigestion, in rare occasions death, and in some other cases it may cause dependency.

Out of all of the things those pills could do, Leo was worried about dependency. Okay, maybe he also mentioned concern on the 'in rare cases, may cause death,' yeah, Don was sure Fearless had said something about that one as well. Honestly though, it was as if Leo was afraid of his little brother turning into a drug addict. He wasn't immature like Mikey, or impulsive like Raph, he was Don, the smart one who knew exactly what he was doing. Yet, Leo wasn't about to let it go.

Leo, being his all knowing and sometimes far too nosey self decided to take away the pills until Donatello was able to tell him what was really bothering him. Leo went on to lecture him about using the pills like a crutch. He needed to face his problems, face his fears or his fears would in turn rule him. It was probably the first time Donatello made an honest attempt to defy his brother. Being stubborn wasn't all that hard for him, but going without any sleep was more difficult. Don did everything he could think of to stay awake for the longest time. Perhaps four days had gone by and the most he had done was take light naps. Waking himself up before the nightmares became too strong.

He just didn't want to talk about his nightmares; it just made them too real. Leo was always observant and he knew that Don was suffering from bad dreams. After the fifth day Donnie had actually fallen into a deep sleep. His body simply demanded complete inaction of conscious thought. More or less he had simply passed out in his lab. He didn't remember the dream but he knew that he must have been screaming again, Don wasn't all that sure exactly what had happened. What he was sure of is that he woke in a complete panic, arms and legs flailing about as he tried to move into the farthest corner of his room, Leonardo trying desperately to calm him, calling his name.

Afterwards, they sat in silence, Leo trying to make eye contact and Don trying to stair intently at his wall. The silent question hung in the air between them. Donatello could see the tension in Leo's shoulders out of the corner of his own vision. Yet, still he could not bring himself to confide in his brother. He knew Leo and he was afraid that he would find some way to blame himself for not being there for his family, not being there for him. It didn't matter that there was no way Leo could have saved him, he would still blame himself. Don didn't want to add that heavy burden to all of the rest of his baggage.

Leo had let out a heavy sigh when he realized Donnie wasn't going to say anything. Slowly rising to his feet he moved for the door of Don's lab. One hand gripped the door handle while the other paused on the frame. Looking back to his brother Leo had told him that if he needed him he would be about, just call out his name and he would come. That made Don smile at least. Leo was the obsessive guardian of them after all.

Another month had past and Donatello still hadn't broken down, he had been surviving on light naps and caffeine but he knew it wouldn't last. Despite all of his efforts, his body could only take so much before it started to shut down on him again. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't even see straight and his speech was slurred.

Don had searched the lair trying to find the pills but he wouldn't be so lucky. Leonardo was far too careful to make them easy to find, he knew that Don would search for them. In fact Leo had confronted him in the midst of his search. He wasn't accusing which Don was thankful for, just asked him what he was doing. Lying wasn't something Donnie was good at so he told his brother the truth. Leo simply nodded his head and gazed at him, waiting.

For a moment the temptation to open up was so strong. The weight on his shoulders was getting heavy and its weight was slowly crushing him. There was an honest fear in his heart that if he kept on the path he was currently traveling there would be very little of himself left. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again; he did this a number of times before he finally gave up.

He looked back to Leo and just shook his head. A slight tremble ran though his body, both from his emotional turmoil and his exhaustion. Leo had just put a hand on his shoulder and asked him if he wouldn't like to lie down and at the very least try to sleep.

With great trepidation Donatello had complied. He lay down on their sofa. It was late and Leo and Don were the only ones still up at that hour. Reluctantly his eyes began to close as soon as his head touched the soft fabric. He heard Leo say something about not leaving and somehow that made it easier to let go. To let go and drift away, knowing that he wasn't alone, there was someone else there to anchor him down to earth. For the first time in a long time he knew at least some measure of peace. His sleep was still invaded by his nightmares but they didn't control him. At one point he had awoken on the verge of panic. He sat up with such speed it made his head spin. Leo was instantly by his side talking to him. It really didn't matter what he said just to hear his voice had the desired affect, it brought Don back to reality. The dark dreams receded back from whence they came. Leonardo's voice reminded him that he was no longer a prisoner and it was only his dreams that were attaching him.

Don had slowly lowered himself back down to his make shift bed, watching as Leo moved back onto the floor, poised in his favorite mediation pose. That was when Don finally broke. He told his older brother everything. As he talked he felt the pressure on his back slowly release with every word he issued forth into the air. A deep ache that filled his bones began to fad, it was an ache he hadn't even realized he had.

Leo had listened without judgment and without comment until he had finished. As Don had thought he would, Leo apologized for not being there to help. Don had begged him to let it go, but still he was surprised when Leo agreed. The past was something to learn and grow from, no matter what horrors it held.

So they had started a new routine. On the nights when it was too hard for Donatello to sleep, Leonardo would sit with him; a silent guardian. Really Donnie wasn't sure how he could do it. Leo would sit down in the only chair available in his room and would stay there all night. No matter how many times Don would wake up, Leo would be there awake. He would offer Don a soft word and a gentle hand on his shoulder and then Donnie would fall back to sleep.

Tonight was no exception. Don had wanted nothing more then to be able to sleep one night without having his big brother sitting with him like a stone angle guarding over a tomb. He had gone back to his old trick of exhausting himself. However, he had obviously failed because Leo was in front of him right now, a concerned look washing over his features. Don gave him a sad smile.

"Sorry Leo, I didn't mean to wake you up."

Leo just gave him a small smile of his own. "Don't worry about it. Why don't you try to go back to sleep?"

Don opened his mouth to protest but already Leo was making himself comfortable in the old battered recliner. He wanted to tell Leo he could go, that he was fine, that he didn't need his brother to watch over him as if he were some little kid. In the end, Don didn't say anything. Truth was he did need his bother.

Donatello let out a soft sigh as he lowered himself. Silently he gazed at the ceiling, listening to the steady breathing of his brother. Guessing by how deep the breaths were coming, Leo had already slipped into a state of meditation. Out of all of them, Leo was the only one who really understood meditation. Perhaps he should try it again some time, maybe it would help him clear his mind of his darker memories.

Donatello mused; perhaps he would be normal again one day. He would be able to close his eyes without the constant fear of what would come to him in his dreams. Don wasn't even really sure what it was that used to fill his dreams when he slept; when he wasn't plagued by nightmares. Yet, now there was no mistaking the horrors that he saw. A year latter and he was still struggling. Leonardo had assured him that all he needed was time and he hopped he was right.

Without even realizing it, Don drifted off into a peaceful dreamless slumber.

The End…maybe.