A/N: Hey everyone! So, I decided to write this short little fic. I loved the way they displayed the emotions in the season finale, and felt like they were mostly realistic. Especially the turtles. This one focuses on Donnie, and how he faces it right after the battle. Read at your own risk…

Hope y'all will enjoy!


Cold…
Empty…
Nothing…

For once, there was no answer. There were no possible calculations or plausible theories. No plan, or real solution.

How could there be?

The truth looked him straight in the eye: this isn't something Donnie could fix. No, not this time. Their friends, family, even their home, gone. Just…gone. Nonexistent.

Now they were in space, trapped on board a ship–a foreign environment. Sure, he should feel excited, but as he stared out towards the blackened depths, watching distant stars flicker, there was nothing.

Just numbness.

He couldn't even muster up any tears. His face was blank, jaw slightly hung open. Even his mind was silent. There just wasn't a single thought, and he couldn't even move his head. His gaze locked onto the void, his mind trapped within the empty confines.

How long had it been? Minutes? Hours?

Suddenly, he felt a cold, hard touch on his shoulder. No warmth of any kind, and as Donnie turned his gaze towards the presence, he was met with unfeeling eyes. No passion, real sympathy, or any emotion at all.

His stomach tightened as he looked down towards the robot–Dr. Honeycutt. The Fugitoid, in other words. Honestly, he didn't care what names or alias the thing went by…All he needed to care about, at that moment, was the fact that it–he held his life in it's hands.

"May I offer you a cup of cocoa as well?" it asked, tone mototinus.

Cocoa? At a time such as this? Donnie could scarcely believe the situation. But no, he didn't want anything of the sort. And so, he mustered up a weary smile.

"No, I'm good," he replied, shaking his head.

"Very well."

Donnie turned his head away and looked towards his family. He really didn't want to continue the conversation further, leaving The Fugitoid to go about its business. Then as his eyes scanned the deck of the spaceship, he could feel the somber atmosphere as it grated against him. Each face was heavy, etched with grief. April sat with Mikey, and just like how he was, her face was expressionless. Then as he turned his attention towards Leo, he could see his cheeks moistened with tears.

A hard lump formed his Donnie's throat and he choked it down. He could feel a twisting, churning sensation deep within his heart, but he pushed it aside…letting the numbness return. No, there was nothing Donnie could do–especially, this time.

He breathed deeply and shifted his head towards the sight of the scenery outside the ship. It was a wondrous, majestic sight. Something he dreamt of as a little kid. A once in a lifetime experience, right before his eyes, and yet, he couldn't even bring himself to summon a real smile. There weren't any rushed feelings of exhilaration…or even a sense of awe.

It was all too unreal.

We were in New York, just moments ago…with Sensei. Well it feels like it was moments ago, at least. Within his mind, images began to flicker. The trees shaking violently, gravel shooting through the air, and the icy chill that surrounded him. Then the light that left his eyes. Sensei…

For a moment, Donnie's breathing came to a halt. His eyes widened, pupils shrinking. His lower lip trembled, and he curled his toes against the cool metal. It was as if the weight of the air grew heavier by a ten-fold, and he felt it crush him–smothering him.

Then as he allowed himself to breathe again, it disappeared.

All of it.

He shut his eyes, and his mind went blank again. Then as he reopened them, Donnie's pupils returned to their original size. Only the light dimmed, becoming lackluster–no sense of emotion. There was nothing he could do, and if only he had been there to shut off the portal. He had wasted time by not using the transportation device until the last moment. He could have been there, and maybe things would have worked out.

No, that was a silly notion. He couldn't possibly blame himself and he knew that. There's just nothing else he could have done. They all tried their hardest, and the one to blame for all this no longer existed.

So he couldn't even bring himself to feel anger. There was no point.

Just like how there was no point in even thinking of possibilities or solutions.

Everything seemed so bleak.

Cold…
Empty…
Numb….