AN: Warnings! SAINW. N16 Un-beta'ed.

Please enjoy reading.

The Last Will of a Mutant Turtle

A TMNT fanfiction

by Crystalbluefox

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Chapter 1

Life is not Fair

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The day when Michelangelo lost his arm in a battle, Donatello did all what he could to build him a well functional robotic arm, after treating to his high fever. Mike smiled again as he presented them his new arm, but it was only months later after putting on the finishing touches here and there, that Donatello seriously was satisfied with his work. Their youngest brother then bragged about how cool he looked like now, being part a robot. But the screams from when he lost his real arm, when it had been ripped off, torn apart, would forever haunt Donatello's memories; since he was right behind him as he saw it happen, since he would always feel obliged for what had happened to his little brother.

The day when Leonardo lost his sight at something silly as a normal eye illness, Donatello did everything he could to create a programmed special high tech sunglass, with optic sight, so his oldest brother could see again, creating pictures in his mind of the world the glasses were seeing. Leo was stunned, said that he never had seen anything more beautiful, even though that their lair long time ago had been shifted out by an old stinking disgusting train station, since the old one had suffered under an explosion, many, too many years ago. Good thing that Master Splinter never lived to see what had happened, to their lair, to their home, to their family… to them.

That too was a very, very long time ago.

Leo told him to rest, to take a break, but Donatello never listened, because he felt too obliged to update their programs, improve their high-tech so it would be better, so Mike could brag more, so Leo could see more than a 1960-tv transmitter's black-white style of the world. And he managed that, because he was at fault of that toxic there so many years ago had exploded in his brother's face, and had done nothing to nurse it professionally and let it eat up his brother's sight slowly, but surely.

Leo was a nice liar when saying it just was a normal illness… but a bad liar.

The day when Raphael fell in battle, speared with no other but one of Leo's precious old swords, humiliated by his weakness until he died, cut open, bleeding badly, Donatello wanted to do anything to bring his older brother back to life. Because he felt obliged to do so, since he was the one who stood right behind him as he heard that horrible sound of steel cutting through plastron, skin, flesh, bones and arteries for then to hit the inside of a shell. As he heard, and forever would hear, that gurgling sound from his brother's throat as blood piled up in his throat.

Leonardo killed his murder in a rage of madness.

Michelangelo made a short process with the rest of him.

He, Donatello, did nothing but sit there with his brother in his arms, stunned, shocked and just held onto him as his life ebbed out of the older turtle. Barely heard, yet even such a long time after, sounded so clear in his memory, as Raphael told him that it was okay. That his time had come.

And Donatello had cried as Raphael's hand had fallen from his chin to comfort him, though it should have been the other way around, as Raphael's eyes had closed and he had let out his final breath.

It was a nightmare.

Everything was a nightmare.

He wanted his brother back, but no technology that he knew of, would ever bring back the brother he loved so much, and then, it was only then that Donatello started to fear Death to take his two other brothers away from him as well.

He could create an arm.

He could give a blind turtle his sight back.

But never –Donatello thought grudgingly- would he ever be able to bring back a dead brother.

He was too weak for that.

He was too stupid for that.

Leo told him to stop, to go to bed and get some rest. He told him to stop working through late nights until early mornings and even further than that, living on nothing but cold caffeine and the smell of his chemicals.

They had buried Raph many months ago, as they had buried their father. But none of his two brothers knew that this time he had went back to burry their brother back up again, putting his too pale body in a long cylinder-like coffin made out of glass and filled with a pink-like fluid, that he had stolen from a secret military base many years ago and evolved into something much better himself. This liquid helped Raph's body so it never would rotten, and stay as if it always had been; young, fresh, as if he was just sleeping an endless sleep. The coffin he made sure was well hidden in a hole in the wall that he himself had made, hidden behind a curtain of posters and maps written over with calculations that even would make the smartest professors' brain's burn out.

Mikey's laugher eventually had died down to a rareness that you even could count on one hand on six months. Having only three fingers to count on, it spoke volumes.

Leo never buzzed around with them anymore; eventually he even stopped bugging him, after two years with no success. Whenever his older brother passed his doorway, the old turtle only shook his head sadly, as he watched his younger brother working late at night at something he could not even recognise what was. Donatello had even discarded his purple bandana a long time ago, using it as nothing but a scarf around his throat.

Mike, Donatello once realised, he barely ever saw anymore, only when he late at nights pulled himself together to leave his experiments to get out of his little cave of chemistries and high-tech equipment to get something to fill his shrinking growling stomach. Their little brother often lay on the old worn-out couch; the only thing they had managed to burry out from the rubble of their old lair, the only comforting thing there reminded them of a worriless past. He was sound asleep, mumbling and chewing on things in his dreams, as he always had done since they had been small little turtle-kids.

Often he sat down at the edge of the couch, running his hand over the matured little brother, who still seemed so little and fragile, even now, even with a high-tech weapon as an arm. In addition, Donatello sensed, someone was watching him as well from the deepest of the shadows, hiding so well that he couldn't see who it was, only sensing their presence. Whenever he looked up, it was gone.

Probably Leo, he always told himself. Who else would hide around in the shadows, down here, among those three?

The day when Donatello fell sick he didn't even stop working, he kept more and more to himself, not wanting to show the others how weak he had become… again… eventually he had to eat some when, even though he didn't feel hungry. He even had to leave his work to do his business, even though he didn't feel like any want to even stand up from his chair. As he did though, he didn't get further but to his own door before he collapsed flat to the floor, landing hard. He couldn't get up again, even though that he wanted to, even though that he needed to. So close. He was being so close with his experiments that he did not have time for this.

Eventually Donatello were overwhelmed by fatigue, and before his brain shut down fully, craving back all those lost nights of sleep, he even felt the humiliating feeling of himself urinating.

Damn it.

He was still weak.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

To be continued

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

AN Dark, indeed it is, but please do give this story a chance. Review & Review! They always makes me happy and makes me want to write even more!

Thank you for reading.

~Crystalbluefox