Mikey opened the door, balancing the comics on his hand, but that didn't stop him to greet his brother.
"Hey Donnie!" Mikey chirped, he placed his other hand that was no longer holding the door on top of the stack of comics. There were about twelve comic books, and cautiously he placed them on the nightstand near where his brother laid. Mikey's heart tightened at the sight of his older brother, but quickly dismissed the feeling as he sat on the bed.
The small lamp that Donnie had on the nightstand, illuminated on his face. The soft light glowed, making Donnie's facial features standout. His eyes round, harmless, as he looked up at Mikey, quietly.
Mikey tried making everything seem normal, even though Donnie still hadn't said a word, it didn't stop Mikey from helping his brother.
"So, Don, I got you the goodies! Some of the best issues of 'Charles Darwin's R-Evolution Revenge!' the original, none of that reboot stuff you don't like; my 'Zombies on Earth? What the Heck!' - Special Edition- if I may add, see what else... Raphie's 'Modern Ninja...'" He picked each individual comic up, showing the pictures, because he still wasn't sure if Donnie understood him. Mikey bounced from sudden excitement. "And oh! Leo's Space Heroes! But if anyone asks he totally let you borrow them!" He told him, giving him a wink.
Donatello's propped against the bed, situated with dozens of pillows behind his head. Curious eyes gazed at whichever direction Mike went off to. His fingers tapped the bandages in a random rhythm, reminding Mikey that his wounds were still healing.
The quiet turtle looked comfortable, and Mikey was grateful for that. Little things like his brother being happy, made Mike happy. Mike wouldn't want it any other way.
Mikey placed a hand against his, squeezing it affectionately, but Donnie didn't squeeze his back. "So, which one do you want to read?" Mike asked, his thumb now rubbing against his wrist in circles.
His brother unrhythmic breathing responded to him; silence. It was always silence, and Mikey should be used to it, it's been days. – But he wasn't. The hope still lingered and Mikey wouldn't give up on his brother so easily.
But Mike found his brother lack of voice was some sort of karma. After all, they had told him to shut up multiple times, or to dumb down the way he spoke, and well he did. And it was biting Mikey's and everyone's ass.
Donnie sometimes gave a whine when he was uncomfortable. At times, Mikey, would know exactly what was bugging his brother, and others, he was left scratching his head in dismay. Donnie was a tough turtle to understand when he did speak, and now… Mike didn't even want to think about it.
A whine, a loud one, brought Mikey away from his thoughts and back to reality. Donnie urgently reached the comics, but Mike beat him and grabbed the first one on top of the stack. It was Leo's. He gave it to Donnie who willingly took it.
Donnie looked up at him, eyes glowing with newly excitement. His hands hesitated with unsureness where to go. He brought the comic by his lips, opening his mouth to take a bite of it like it was a snack. – But Mikey snatched it from him, knowing Leo would kill him if Donnie had stained, or even ripped, his most prized possession.
"No, Dee! You're not supposed to eat the comic book!" Mikey told him, patting his hand as a way for Donnie to let his hands down, but he didn't. Don pouted, and reached for the comic again.
Mike faced him away, feeling like he was fighting with a child, and Mikey didn't want to think of his brother like a kid. Especially his brother who was always a super genius even before he can crawl.
And at first, blue and mahogany eyes locked in contact, Mikey saw the sadness in his brother's eyes and thought of an idea; "here, Buddy, I'll read it for you!" He opened the front page of the comic, preparing to read.
"Alright." Mikey sat on the chair and leaned back, clearing his throat with an obvious amused grin. Before he could read, Donnie fidgeted and wiggle like he was being tickled.
Mikey ignored him, Donnie was always energetic in the morning and moved all over the place. Mikey placed a hand on his chest, murmuring, "you're going to hurt yourself, buddy." Mikey didn't know if Donnie understood him, but Donnie gave a heave, before laying back on his shell, his head lolling to the right. Round eyes looked at him with pure innocence which made Mikey smile even wider.
He, then, turned back at the comic, and began reading; "'Captain Ryan abort mission!' Grundch cried out, as he saw many Trumplets invade their ship." Mikey glanced at his brother for a second before continuing. "'No, we must not back down! These Trumplets-'" Mikey sharply halted, closing the comic book when he saw the distressed-on Donnie's face.
"Dee?" Mikey sat up more, placing the comic book away as he rubbed his brother's scalp, avoiding the stitches. "What's wrong?" He spoke again, softly. Dodging the fact that Donnie couldn't speak at all.
The injured turtle opened his mouth, looking as if he was trying to speak. Sorrow written all over his face. "Donnie, come on bro, what's wrong?" Mikey asked in desperation, setting the comic book down and now standing up.
Donnie chipped his mouth shut, and turned his face the other way.
"Donnie, tell me bro." Mikey pleaded, his fingers pinched Don's cheeks to move his face to make eye contact.
Don slapped his hand away pretty hard, and Mikey cupped his hand in shock. Donnie never did anything like that, ever.
"Hey, you're not sup-" The youngest closed his mouth shut to see Donnie's eyes glazed with unsheathed tears. He couldn't scold his brother, and Mikey simply wished he knew what was bugging Donnie.
And before Mikey could say anything else, he heard a soft grumble in Donnie's tummy. Mikey had never been so thankful that it was something so small, Donnie nearly drove him nuts to only find out he was hungry.
"You want soup? It's yummy!" He rubbed his own belly, smiling widely. Donnie directed a look away from him, but his stomach answered Mikey. "I'll be gone for a few minutes, okay? Here, Teddy can keep you company!" Mike lounged to reach for the bear they had as babies, and grabbed Donnie's hand and placed the bear on his hand.
Donnie looked at him, and smiled. He showed all his teeth and gums in glory, and Mikey didn't hesitate to hug him. Don didn't hug him back, but continued to smile as he brought the bear closer to his chest.
Mike got off the bed, now happier than ever, because the past few days Donnie never smiled. His mouth was always agape, breathing with his mouth and after five days, he smiled. Mike opened the door, ready to heat up the soup, and now nearly jumping. He closed the door to give his brother some privacy, and went off to the kitchen.
"Hey," Raph said shortly, sitting on one of the chairs by the table, watching Mike stir the soup. He toyed with his Sai, shoving his weapon in his belt and brought his hands on the wooden table.
"Hey Raph, what's up?" Mike asked and he looked at Raph. He fixed the unbalanced chef hat on his head.
"It's just gonna be the two of us – again." Raph said dryly, his fists tense. His eyes narrowed in a scowl, Master Splinter had told them all to take turns, and Leo wasn't doing his part.
"Augh, no, you gotta be kidding, brah. Leo seriously doesn't want to take care of our brother?" He scooped up the soup into a plastic bowl, his face woven in disappointment. He avoided eye contact, not wanting to show Raph his frustrations, and focused toward his brother's soup.
"He's acting like Donnie's dead or something! I tried knocking some sense into him, but he pulled that 'you don't understand' crap! Not understand my ass!" Raph slammed his fist on the table, but Mikey was used to Raph's outbursts.
Mike sighed tiredly, turning off the stove. "I have no problem of taking care of Dee. It's just, he barely sleeps and wakes up super early. I wanna take a nap." Mikey said honestly, his eyes becoming drowsier at the thought of it.
"Well, I can take Donnie of your hands after he's done eating." Raph perked his head up, giving Mikey a playful smug smile. "I was thinking to take him to the dojo."
"Really? That'd be awesome! Thanks, Raph!" Mikey's tiredness washed away, grinning like a dork. "I'll call you when Dee's done eating. What is he gonna do in the dojo?" Mike asked, now walking away from the kitchen.
"Nothing much." Raph replied bluntly, "a few stretches, or something."
"Sounds good to me." Mike hummed, knowing he could take a well-deserved nap after Donnie's done eating.
Maybe Donnie being… different, wasn't as hard as Mikey thought. Donnie was still Donnie in some ways, and he would never complain about the situation. He loved his brother no matter what state he's in.
A furious throw was sent to the punching bag. Under momentum, it swayed, the spine of chains creaking which held it above the centered flooring. It swung a distance, clattering loosely until it gave way to the suffocation of its steel restraints. It returned to its heavy sustained hover, waiting for a next round.
Sunlight bristled itself from the open coverts of sewer grates, creating a light harmonization through the thistle oak tree of the dojo. Delicate beams traced themselves woven through branches and shedding taints of light on the two terrapins in its wake.
"Alright, Don―" Raphael, who turned from beating his way to the punching bag's core, turned to his brother. A sweat beaded forehead glistened slightly as a green hand wiped at them roughly.
"We need to get you back into shape. So― try to hit this sucker!"
He looked at his brother, driven by his own determination; emerald hued eyes flashing glaringly at the terrapin. But all he did was direct a blank eyed look sideways, towards the arsenal of their weapons sheathed into ember wooden compartments masterfully.
At first, Raphael chipped his mouth shut, his mind pushing a midway command down his throat once more. The turtle was sat down on the rugged floor, clumsily though in dumbfounded content. He said nothing― did nothing― but stare; it was all he ever did all day no matter how much they tried him for any other gesture. He refused to even take notice of his idly stitched head but, like a pink elephant in a subway, it sat― challenging him and staid gout above all else.
A lining that encircled the top of his head was woven to a close timidly. Scabs of blood pulsed from slightly unfinished jobs, the dried blood through stitches. The scar kept vile at the scalp and Raphael thanked that the rest was vanished into the crevices of the back of his head― where he couldn't see them.
The unprofessionally fixed wound made a morbid display on the turtle's head but, as if the injury wasn't there, he stared― sat there with an idle expression in his eyes like he was aware of nothing.
Raphael wished that weren't the truth.
The mahogany lit gaze that he knew so well had vanished for eternity from his brother's solace; same eyes― but his eyes now grew unfamiliar. He didn't know this Donatello; he didn't want to know him. Raph still couldn't believe― wouldn't believe― that this was now his blabber mouthed genius of a brother.
"... Come on, Don," his voice pushed a bit further, fathered with a slight patience in reminder of Donatello's condition.
"You gotta get moving!"
He clasped his hands together in attempt to get his dumbfounded attention. This was like trying to encourage a stale infant to smile for a camera or trying to get an old dog to chase after a ball.
He didn't like it.
Raphael started to frown. He wasn't about to give into the case scenario and click his lips together in desperation. With a flick of his wrist, he dashed his torn tails of crimson away to where they lay dangling on his coarse, shell covered back.
"Come on― you can't just sit there! You gotta move one way or another!"
Nothing.
All motions that arose from the turtle was a wiggling of his toes.
Anger started to boil in Raph with a mix of fear. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. Raphael tried scanning for a signal― an oral sign to ensure that his brother wasn't lost. He wanted to believe that under that dazed, one noted look, was the Donatello he came to know.
As the unpleasant realization started to course through him, a surge of irritation struck him bitter.
"Do something, dammit!"
His hoarse yell tore away at the sincere, atmospheric calm of the dojo; a furious cry that even he flinched at. He took a glance at his brother only to find his face widening in an undeniable terror. His feet curled inwards closer to his chest while a hand was propped behind him― as if he were ready to run for it. Slowly, Raphael's anger started to simmer. His throat felt rough like sandpaper, choked with a mass of guilt.
"Hey... Hey. Don." He started, but in the loss of his brother's fearful daze, he didn't know how to continue. In gradual struggle, the words came to him in calmness.
"You know what... Let me help you."
He took a step forward, but all that did was null. Don backed as if he were setting a shaking finger on the trigger of a gun, trying to defend himself from a monster that threatened him. A monster that was his brother.
Raphael timidly took a few steps forward, arms widening as he tried to calm his brother down.
"Donnie…I…"
Before he could even reach for his fearful brother, his name echoed through the dojo; "Raphael!"
Raph tore his attention from Donnie and whipped his head to see his older brother, arm crossed, by the doorway. "What the shell do you think you're doing with Don? He's supposed to be resting –in bed!" Leonardo bitterly yelled, azure eyes narrowed to a scowl.
"Donnie needs to get out of bed before all his muscles becomes to jell-o, and since when the shell do you care?" He remarked, he stalked his way towards the eldest. "We're supposed to take shifts to take care of the Brainiac, and you're ignoring him. What's wrong with you?" Raphael jabbed a finger at him, his head raised.
"I'm not ignoring him, Raph." Leo weakly protest, but kept his glare ablaze. "Donnie shouldn't be out of bed, and you know that!" He yelled with a nagging tone. They closed in on each other, the lethal looks in their eyes never shifted as they stood mere inches from breaking the last coat of poise that kept them from a relentless fight.
"Donnie's fine, Leo. He rested long enough, he needs to be in shape!" Raph shouted back, arms folding over each other.
"Don needs - "
"Will you shut up already? He's already up, and he's fine! Now go be an ass somewhere else and go back wallowing in your own guilt! You didn't show concern for him then, so why the hell are you starting now?! Dammit, Fearless, just leave us alone already!"
"I'm not wallowing in my own guilt, Raph. Why should I be guilty anyway? My decision was clear, and you even agreed to it, we all knew it's snowing out there –and we all knew what the results of leaving Don to the Shredder was!" The two brothers continued to bicker. Initially, Raph had known and accepted their decision. They couldn't have fought the Shredder and won, the cold would have killed them all. At some degree, he vaguely understood the choice of leaving one to save the group.
But—he peaked at his little damaged brother on the carpet and his fists shook at each side as his eyes flickered back towards his supposed leader, responsible for this mess— it had been the wrong thing to do.
But that wasn't the problem right now.
"That doesn't mean it's okay to ignore your own brother, Leo!" Raph's breaths grew heavy- stale with hints of anger that whispered silent curses to the turtle ahead of him. Everything Leo did- everything he said- was pissing him off to no end. His hands, clutched and nearly risen to his side, shook as his will worked to resist the fervent urge to give his – oh so – Fearless Leader a piece of his mind.
The two angered turtles had quickly forgotten about their younger brother, who continued to sit on the floor, attempting to stand himself up. He was having trouble. His left-hand hesitated to place itself on the mat, and his legs trying to pull himself up. He attempted to use his right hand to heave himself up, but, like him, it fell back down.
Don swallowed a lump, his right leg dragging itself up, before he sat back down. It was no use. He gazed at his hands, looking up to see the red and blue mask turtles. The Red one made him feel scared, yet somehow there was love in between that, and Blue… He doesn't really remember him. He doesn't interact with him like Orange and Red.
The injured turtle gazed on the ground, trying to lift himself up. He ignored the two different voices yelling at one another, he didn't try to understand what was going on. Whatever words came out of their mouths was gibberish to him. He only understood a few words, and that wasn't helpful in his defense.
He needed help getting up, the mats were very uncomfortable and he was starting to ache. Where was Orange? The one who was always considerate of helping him? His mind was a mess, he couldn't concentrate on one thing with another at the same time, and he didn't understand what was going on.
He lifted his head to feel the soup crawl up in his throat. It took him by surprise. Bright lights took over his vision. He gave out a small choke before he grew rigid, and slumped to the ground, the last thing he heard was someone yelling out what seemed like his name, before everything darkened.
"Raph, Leo? What's going on? A groggy Michelangelo slurred. Since he took night and morning shift to take care of Don, he barely slept at all. This was the only time he did sleep though, unfortunately, his timing couldn't be more of an unlucky coincidence. They just had to have a fight during his only chance at rest. Michelangelo had grown used to Leo's and Raph's constant bickering- but he was too irritably woken up to stand it right now; not in these times.
"Fearless -"
"Raph -"
Mikey interrupted both, before either one could speak; "Guys… Where's Donnie?" He asked, almost suspicious. He turned his head to the right, his sleepiness forgotten as his eyes widened. "Donnie!" He cried out, sprinting to his unconscious brother.
Donnie was convulsing, violently.
"Guys!" His voice shook and he turned his head to see Leo and Raph coming his way. He was unsure what to do, or what was going on. He grabbed Donnie's arms, in a weak attempt to make his shaking stop.
"Mikey don't hold him down! Raph, go get Master Splinter." Leo barked out, seeing Raph run out of the dojo and Mikey backing away from his brother.
Leonardo rolled Donnie to his side, making sure his airway was open. His whole-body spasm and shook violently – relentlessly. Don grunted as Leo placed his hands under his head to avoid it from hitting the ground with impact. His brother's eyes were open, more unfocused and dilated than before. Arms jerked in every direction. Drool began to form on his brothers' mouth, slowly seeping out of his mouth.
"That's it, little brother. Let it all out." Leo whispered, his eyes looking worriedly up to Mikey's. He paid no attention to the unsheathed tears forming on his eyes as Leo looked down to keep his gaze to his shaking brother.
Moments later, Raph came running in with Master Splinter behind his heels.
Splinter fell to his knees, taking over control as he brought Donnie's head to his thigh. He noticed immediately that Don gritted his teeth as his limbs tightened.
Everyone was quiet as he said soothing words to his second youngest son.
"Shh, everything will be alright my son." Splinter softly said to him, not letting Donnie's head slide off his thigh.
"How long has this been going on?" Splinter asked, looking up at his three sons.
"I'm not sure, Sensei. Mikey was the one who noticed." Leo answered, his tone laced with worry as he gazed at the cream patterned mats.
"That's it, my son. Breathe." Splinter's hands were rubbing soothingly on his head, his hand holding his head from sliding off his thigh.
Donatello stopped shaking, but every few seconds or so he would jerk or grunt. His eyes were still unfocused and he breathe throughout his nose heavily. Splinter stroke his head; "you are safe Donatello; I can assure you."
Donnie's head jerked back on his father's thigh, he attempted to stand up himself, maroon glossy eyes staring back at Splinter's sad, auburn pupils.
"No, Donatello, do not attempt to stand up, please rest back." Donnie acknowledge Splinter, resting his head back at his thigh, before attempting to stand up once again. "Donatello; listen. Do not get up." Splinter ordered, his tone calm. Donnie once again grunted, his breaths sounding like snores. He laid back down, concentrating on his breathing.
Splinter stroke his forearm, acknowledging his sons three minutes into the seizure. "Please go fetch some water for your brother." He said, mostly to Leo. Mikey cradled himself within the comfort of his Raph's embrace. He buried himself into his shoulder, his sobs trickling softly- muffled by his brother's course muscles.
Leonardo obeyed with no objections and rushed out of the dojo in seconds.
Donnie suddenly drew a breath as his eyes widened. His fingers locking, as if he tightened his fingers in a bend; his forehead creased in distress. Donnie leaned against his father's hold as he looked around, pupils back to normal.
"What happened?" Mikey asked, almost angry. He wiped his tears with the bandages that wrapped around his wrist.
"Donatello had a seizure, Michelangelo." His Sensei answered, watching Donnie's eyes glance at Mikey to Raph then up to him. Splinter kissed his forehead, and Don responded with a toothy smile. Splinter smiled back, caressing his son closer to him. He then looked up when Leo came with the glass of water.
"Can you stop them, Sensei?" Mikey asked, feeling Raph rub his head to soothe him.
"Seizures cannot be avoided, but what I did helped Donatello to pass through it. Turning him to his side helps from him choking on his own saliva, and holding his head helps from stopping future damage, my son." He answered, heaving Donnie up.
"Do you think you can drink water, Donatello?"
Donnie tilted his head at his father's question, he looked at the water and smiled. He shakily raised his hand to grab the glass himself, but Leo kneeled in front of him and softly pushed his hand down. "Here, little bro." He held Donnie's chin up, allowing him to take a few sips before pulling the cup back. Don smacked his lips as he leaned against Splinter once again, suddenly feeling tired.
"So, Sensei, you're telling me that the head injury caused Donnie's seizure?" Raph spoke up, his emerald green eyes gazing back at Mikey's.
"Yes, my son." Splinter replied as Donnie sat himself up more. "Let us hope that the other ones are no longer nor worse."
"Wait, other ones?" Raph asked, brows furrowing.
"Yes, Raphael. Seizures come and go. I am hoping this would be the last seizure, but I do not fully know."
Raph nodded in understanding, his eyes landing to Donnie's. His poor brother, Raph wished he could take away his pain.
"Leonardo." Splinter slowly got up, caressing his injured sons' forehead one last time; "May you please take your brother to his bedroom so he can rest?" Leo reluctantly obeyed his father, he did a semi-bow before gathering his brother in his arms. Leo placed Don's head on the crook of his elbow, though he never noticed how frail Donnie was.
His two brothers stared at him. He felt it on the back of his neck. Leo hadn't exactly been a role model when it came to Don. So, when Master Splinter ordered him to take Donatello to get some rest, Leonardo was pretty sure his indifference hadn't gone unnoticed.
Slowly, the leader walked out of the dojo, hearing Mikey sob to their father from the stress of watching him convulse. It scared Leo too, but there was nothing that could fix it. He remembered Don teaching him about seizures, before Leo bated an eye and stopped listening to his rambling.
He wished he listened to his brother when he had the chance.
The leader opened the door, entering Donatello's room slowly. There was a stack of unfinished bowls of soup from the last couple days and he grimaced how many bloody bandages were in the trash can near the bed. Leo closed his eyes for a moment, recalling his last fight with Don and him... If only Donnie listened...
Leo clumsily opened the blanket and placed his brother in, before opening the door and leaving him alone. Donnie rested his head on the pillow, exhaling shakily before almost immediately falling asleep. The leader left him alone for now, who knows how long it'll be for Donnie to wake anyway. The stress was still in Leo's system…Maybe some meditation can clear his mind –it has been a long week, for everyone.
Splinter slowly paced himself to his once intelligent sons' room, slowly opening the door. It was the middle of the night and he wanted to check on Donatello, especially after his trauma from the recent seizure. Though, he didn't expect Michelangelo to be sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Don with what seemed like a mother hawk stare. The lack of posture on his shoulders indicated Mikey's ever dropping will to keep himself awake.
"Michelangelo?" The old rat whispered, opening the door wider as he entered the bedroom.
Mikey slurred groggily, drool manifested at the tip of his lips and dripped down his chin; "I'll take a pepperoni… double pizza dog… hold the mayonnaise…"
Splinter found himself chuckling, his voice gingerly watched over and silenced into gentle delight. He sighed, making it quick and tender.
"How about some tea instead?"
Mikey snapped awake at the recognition of the voice familiar to his brain. He straightened himself as he turned to see Splinter. "Hai sensei -!" He yelled, his shoulders tensed instinctively into a stiff, disciplinary posture in attention.
"Be very quiet, my son." Yoshi silently hushed him, indicating that Donnie was still in an unconscious state from his seizure. The turtle was in a fetal position, holding a teddy bear –probably given to him by Michelangelo when he was watching him.
"Oh…hehe…sorry Sensei." Mikey yawned tiredly, rubbing the back of his neck with tired eyes, his nerves pinched.
"Michelangelo what are you doing in here?" There wasn't a spite of anger in the voice, but concern that trickled through his tone like velvet. The father of the two walked to the bed and sat down next to his son, being careful not to wake Donatello.
"Oh this? I just wanted to watch over Donnie in case, ya know…" Mikey looked at his feet, avoiding eye contact with his father. He knew very well that a possible seizure attack wouldn't happen on the same day, but he couldn't risk not being there for him again when he needed him. He just wanted to make sure… Just in case…
"You are supposed to be asleep. Donatello will be fine, my son. You do not have to watch over him all the time." This time Splinter placed a hand on his shell, which brought Mikey to look up at him. His blue eyes were filled with tears that beaded on the edges of his eyelids, staining his mask into a damp, darkly rust.
"But Donnie and Leo and Raph always watch me when I have a hard time at night…" Mike muttered more to himself in a tone, soft as a timid child. He turned back as Don pushed the blanket unconsciously away from him. Almost immediately, Mikey moved the blanket over him, knowing the cold winter could easily make him sick.
After a few seconds trickled by, Splinter spoke up.
"There is something troubling you." There was a hint of worried and concern looming through his sentence. Mikey almost winced at his father's tone.
"Huh? Nah –I'm a tough turtle. I'll be fine. You know me." Michelangelo bluntly ignored his statement, waving his hand to show he was okay. He smiled up at his father – hoping, pleading, Sensei would believe his words. Splinter had one son to worry about, Mikey didn't want it to be two sons – Donnie needed the attention, not him.
Splinter went and rubbed Mikey's shell in circles, following the hexagonal patterns on his shell, before speaking softly once again; "Perhaps Donatello is not the only one who has suffered trauma."
The turtle's eyes widened, unsure of what to say to his father, mind laced with denial and the ever-manifesting refusal to tell him what was bothering him. He knew in the end, though, that his efforts were futile. Splinter always figured it out, there was no use hiding things from him.
"You did very well, my son. Donatello will heal hopefully –"
"Eventually." Mikey corrected him, smiling softly. He once again turned to look at his father.
Splinter smiled at the sliver of positivity in his voice. He sighed with content, a soothing melody gleaming dully within his pupils. "You must rest. He will not heal right away, you know this. A wound does not mend in a matter of seconds. It will take time and patience. Do not trouble yourself over this, my son."
Mike hesitated, turning back to see his older brother; "…Hai sensei." He leaned in for a quick kiss on Don's cheek, before he slowly got up. He didn't look away from his brother as he approached the door and exited.
"You are brave Donatello." Splinter whispered, using his thumb to rub Don's arm. His son was still in fact unconscious after the hours he had fallen into a seizure. –After these past few days of slow progress, he hoped the seizure wouldn't stop his improvement.
"You had managed to escape the Shredder, during the week I meditated –waiting for any clues to indicate you were living. I have found none. I have thought you were dead and did not came looking for you myself. I am deeply sorry, my son." Splinter took a deep breath, brushing off Don's cheek. He towered himself almost discreetly to his son.
"I have failed you, Donatello, my son…" He slowly took hold of his once intelligent son's hand, holding it with great care. He was about to release his hand and slowly retrieve to his bedroom, when the hand he was holding, suddenly tightened the hold.
Splinter looked down to see Donatello's reddish brown eyes looking up at him. "My son…" Splinter could breathe a little easier now, rubbing his hand. Though awake, Donnie's face still held a mixture of confusion laced with pain. That pain- that soft look of suffering- was a reminder; of all the things, he couldn't do for his family, of what he couldn't afford to lose. Within Donatello's almond eyes, he saw Tang Shen, staring at him through the fire that scorched her gaze, mortified. He couldn't do much about it.
"I am sorry, my son." Splinter whispered, drawing Donnie to a hug. He looked down to see the bandaged head and rubbed his scalp around the wound.
The two were quiet, Splinter continuing to hug him while Don draped his arms around his father. His once intelligent son was far from being okay and Splinter knew this was going to be a long recovery. He needed to discuss Leonardo's recent behavior, but for now, he'll stay with Donatello.
Donnie pressed his forehead on his father's chest, quietly listening to his Sensei's heartbeat. His whiskers bristled the top of Donatello's head. He could hear a murmur from his father but paid no attention as he leaned his body further, comfortably adjusting to his hold.
Splinter kissed his son's head, Donatello's eyes slowly closing as his father held him tight. This time he would make sure he wouldn't make that mistake again.