Disclaimer: The TMNT aren't mine!
A/N: Just a one-shot. Takes place in the 2007 movie, between Leo being gone and the movie starting.
"Donnie!"
The frantic voice jarred him to attention from the project he had been working on. The panic and fear filling his name made him search for the source urgently.
"Don! Help!" the voice called again. It was a voice he hadn't heard in well over a year. A voice he never heard brimming with so much apprehension; a voice he always depended on for being the calm, collected direction of the family.
"Leo!" Don exclaimed. "Where are you?"
"Right behind you!" came Leonardo's frantic reply.
Donatello whipped around and started in shock, his brain trying to process what he saw. His eldest brother was bound to a chair, struggling hopelessly to escape. Beneath Leonardo was what appeared to be an explosive of some type, and the genius could see the numbers ticking away.
60…59…58…57
"Don!" Leonardo said, his voice insistent. "You have to defuse it! You're the only one who can! We're all counting on you."
"O-ok," Donnie nodded numbly, his logical mind fighting to kick in.
He knelt in front of the bomb, opening a panel on the top to expose the wires. His hands slicked with nervous sweat, his eyes flicked to the counter.
53…52…51…
He choked back the dread rising in his throat as he realized he had never experienced a configuration such as this one before. His fingers hovered over the wires, flitting like a nervous humming bird as he debated with one needed to be detached.
49….48…47…
"Donnieeeeee!" another voice hollered from the kitchen.
Donatello glanced up to see Michelangelo gesturing wildly at the oven.
"Dude! The oven's busted! How am I gonna cook lunch? You gotta fix it! You're the only one who can!"
"Hold on, Mike!" Don snapped.
39…38…37…
"Yo, Don," Raph's gruff voice addressed him from the couch. He was casually flipping through TV stations, he feet propped on the coffee table. "The phones over there at your geek station are ringing off the hook. You betta answer them before my sais do it for ya. Ya gotta make money for us! Ya won't keep your customers that way!"
"Hold on…" Don felt his voice growing weaker, smaller.
34…33…32…31…
All the wires seemed to blur together in a tangled, incomprehensible mass. Which one? He felt three sets of eyes boring into him, expectant, and waiting.
"Well, my son," sounded Master Splinter's voice from a dark corner of the room. "Your brothers are counting on you."
29…28…27…26…
The ground began to tremble in the lair. Ever so slightly at first, the vibrations grew and the floor began to crack like a parched desert, the lancing from wall to wall.
20…19…18…17…
Don's brown eyes widened as the floor began to give way, caving in on itself and devouring everything into its greedy maws. He was quickly a victim of it as well, the emptiness below threatening to swallow him. He grabbed on to the ledge while the bound Leonardo glared down at him and shook his head in shame.
10…9…8…
"A fine mess you got this family into, Donatello. It was up to you to keep things together while I am gone," he admonished disapprovingly.
"Everything is falling apart because of you, my son!" Splinter added, his voice becoming one with the shadows, dark and vicious.
4…3…2…1…
Donatello jolted upright, his eyes flashing open. His pulse hammering in his ears like the bass of Mikey's music and he took deep, gasping breaths. His eyes were wide and filled with trepidation as his vision tried to focus in the dim light. As his sight adjusted, he became aware of the multiple computer screens in front of him.
"Fell asleep at my work station again," Don grumbled despondently to himself.
Leaning forward, he shut down the screens and swiveled his chair around. The TV was on in the living room, soundlessly casting its ever changing light on the otherwise dark lair. Mike was snoring softly on the couch, one leg hanging over the back and a video game controller perched precariously on his snout. Don grinned weakly at the sight of his baby brother as he made his way into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He knew the caffeine was not the best idea at this early hour, but his head was pounding and his nerves shaken. He set up the coffee maker to brew a pot and slumped in a chair at the table to wait.
He sighed in resignation as his thoughts drifted from idea to idea, an ever changing kaleidoscope in his head. A frown formed on his lips as his musings stopped on his nightmare. He hadn't dreamed about his eldest brother in a while. Leonardo had been gone for over a year, and at times it felt as if it had been a lifetime, as if the memories of his brother and when the family was whole were slipping through his already weary fingers.
Everyone looked to Donatello for something and the stress of it was beginning to get to him. He was expected to wear so many different hats, each one different and more complicated than the last. He felt as if he were trying in vain to keep the family afloat while he himself was barely treading the surface above the murky depths. He was not Leonardo. He was not a leader. Splinter had trusted him to lead the family in Leonardo's absence, but things were falling apart at the seams and he was failing miserably to keep the fragmented strands from slowly fraying at the edges.
Raphael was becoming ever more moody and distant; even Mike's ever present optimism was visibly ebbing. Donatello, who used to pride himself on his logical thinking and patience, was more irritable than he had ever been in his life. They were all worried about their wayward brother, though it remained unspoken, a black cloud constantly darkening the sky of their lives. Only Master Splinter seemed unphased by it all, which gave the purple-banded turtle that last sliver of hope to hang on to. Splinter was usually able to sense when one of his sons was in peril. Thus that left Donatello with the question that had been haunting him for six long months: why hadn't Leo come home?
And Raph…his musings returning to his red masked older brother caused his expression to darken and his already sour mood to deepen. Raph's behavior seemed to be getting worse by the day. He was away all night and slept all day. While Don and Mike worked hard to bring in money, train, and keep up with the chores (which was hard enough and half the time the living room was a wreck), Raphael would show up from time to time only to eat the food that he had not even helped to pay for…and every time Donatello confronted Raphael about it, they got into an argument.
Don hated arguing with his brothers, but the resentment was getting to him. Words he would usually think through popped from his mouth fueled by fatigue and the strain of all his responsibilities. Don felt as if he was precariously balanced on a crumbling mountain ledge. He was losing footing fast, and had no tools to keep himself steady.
As if on cue, the sound of the brick entrance to the lair opening shook Don from his thoughts, and Raph came trudging into the lair. And once again, Don's words came jumping out, cutting and angry.
"Nice of you to grace us with your exalted presence," Don said dryly as Raph opened the fridge to grab a soda.
Raph whipped around, his mask tails flying violently. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, but he didn't yell his reply, almost as if he were trying to keep his temper in check, "Not now, Donnie. I'm tired, and I just want to go to bed."
"Well, I must say that I am comforted by the fact that you think enough of us to come home to go to bed, " Don retorted, factiously.
Raph opened his soda roughly and chugged half of the can. He lowered the can and a mocking smirk twisted his lips.
"Y'know, Donnie, sarcasm isn't very becoming of you."
"And your attitude and behavior aren't very becoming of you!" Don snapped. "I wish you would have some consideration for the rest of us. With you gone all the time, Mike's been becoming obsessed in this Nightwatcher goon as if he's some god, and I'm stuck with everything else! You could at least act like you care and help out some!"
Raph's eyes flared with barely contained rage. He stalked up to Don, balling his fists and gritting his teeth. His control was slipping quicker than cheese off of Mike's pizza.
"Two things, Donnie," he spat his younger brother's nickname as if it were an insult, "One: what I do is nunna your business. Two: how DARE you say that I don't care?!"
He rose himself up to his full height next to Don, his muscles rippling in his arms, taut in his fury. Don tried his hardest not to let his intimidation show, but the slight widening of his brown eyes betrayed him. He knew that was how Raph tried to win their arguments, since he was so much bulkier than his genius younger brother.
His logical thought process finally catching up with his frustration, Don decided it was best to try to defuse the situation. Yelling back at Raph would only serve to further the hot-head's ire. He took a deep, calming breath, pinching his snout with his forefinger and thumb.
In the calmest, most unaccusing voice he could muster, Don said, "What I'm trying to say, Raph, is that it would be nice if you made an attempt to assist around home more…or at least eat a meal with us. Mike really misses you, and we both work so hard…"
Raph slammed a fist on the table, making Don wince.
"Last time I checked, little brother," he snarled, "we were grown-ups, legal adults. I don't need a mommy telling me what to do."
"We're not legal citizens of anything, Raph, and you know it! If Leo were here…"
At the mention of Leonardo, the last piece of control Raph had been managing to hold on to shattered like fragile glass.
"WELL HE'S NOT!" Raph roared. "He's off prancing around like some pansy pretty boy leaving us behind in the dust. And you say I don't care? I didn't leave! I still come back and then I have to deal with your shit! Didja ever stop to think that maybe he hasn't come back because you're a whiney pain in the ass?"
Raph regretted the words the moment they left his lips. His mouth clamped shut as he saw the hurt well into Don's eyes. He felt some of his rage melt away placed by remorse more powerful than the hottest anger.
"Donnie, I – I –" he tried futilely to apologize, his words tripping over themselves like a drunk.
Donatello wanted no part of it, his older brother's accusation hitting him like a ton of bricks. He could feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to allow himself to breakdown in front of Raphael. He put on a mask of indifference, wordlessly poured himself a cup of coffee while Raphael stared at him helplessly, and headed over to his workstation at a clipped pace. Raphael tried one last time to get out a strangled apology, but Don ignored him. Raphael and Donatello differed from each other on many levels, and this was one of them. Raphael would lash out when upset, but Donatello drew himself inward, shutting out the world.
He heard Raph stomp off in the direction of his room, slamming the door behind him. Was there a grain of truth to what Raphael had said? Had Leonardo not returned because of him? No…if it was anyone in the family, it was because of Raphael. Those two were always at odds. But even at that, Donatello had a hard time believing that Leonardo was staying away because of Raph, as hard as he was to live with at times.
Don sat down into his work chair heavily, the tears finally squeezing out of his eyes now that he was alone, leaving twin burning, shameful paths down his cheeks. What had happened to their family? Had he failed so terribly as leader that he had driven the wedge between himself and Raphael? Was it entirely his fault? Raph was full of crap, right?
He roughly dried his eyes and sniffed.
No more tears, he thought grimly as he donned his headset to get to work. He started slightly when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned the chair to behold a clearly tired, but concerned Mikey.
"Mikey? What are you doing awake so early?" Donatello asked, even though he knew the answer.
"Dude, it's kinda hard to sleep with Mount Saint Raphie exploding in the kitchen," he grinned weakly. "You ok, bro?"
Don returned the watery grin. "Yes, Mikey, I'm alright, but I need to get to work now."
Mike's face took on a rare serious expression. "Raph didn't mean what he said, y'know. He's just taking his stress out on you. It's not right, dude, but that's just how the Raph works."
"I know that, Mikey," Donatello said a little harsher than he meant to as the memories of Raph's words cut him like a knife. He gazed down at his feet and spoke in a barely audible whisper, "but that doesn't make it any easier to hear."
Donatello's voice grew pained, "I'm trying so hard, Mikey…I really am…" He deflated in his chair. "Why can't anyone see that?"
Mike's blue eyes read of sympathy for his older brother. He lowered himself to Don's sitting level and silently grabbed him into a crushing hug. Donatello stiffened in shock at the unexpected gesture, but moments later gladly returned it, taking comfort in the embrace.
"For what it's worth, Donnie," Mikey whispered, releasing his brother. He placed both of his arms on Don's shoulders and made eye contact. "You're doing a great job, and I do see it. I totally admire you, dude. You're Mr. Fix-it, Mr. Leader, Mr. Tech, Mr. Business Manager and you're even Mr. Help-his-crazy-younger-brother-with his-gig. Heck, you even deal with Raph…now that's talent! We all miss Leo…and I think that's why Raphie is so mad….and why you're so stressed….and why I have nightmares about rabid zombie children."
Donnie caught himself chuckling at Mikey's last statement.
"You're right, Mikey. Your insight into the emotional well-being of others never ceases to astound me. Thank you."
Mike shrugged nonchalantly. "If that means you're in awe of my awesomeness, I'll take it as a compliment!" The youngest sibling winked playfully.
Mike stood back up to allow Don to get to work.
"He'll come back, Donnie, I know he will. We just have to hold on a little longer."
Donatello flicked on his computers as Mike walked away to the kitchen to get breakfast. Holding on was very hard to do when he felt that his grip was already slipping. He thought back to his dream and the crushing weight of all that was expected of him. He felt so alone and so isolated, but replaying Mike's words in his head, he knew he wasn't truly alone. He knew that himself and his brothers would hold on and that Leonardo would come home. It would take some time, and hopefully the holes left in the family would be filled and repaired, but in the meantime Donatello vowed he would do the best he could to hold on to the edges of their family's tattered tapestry with a grip of steel.