Disclaimer: I do not own the turtles and I am not making any money off of this story.
A/N: Sorry, I know I said that I was going to do Raph's part next but it really was Donnie's turn. Raph's part will be next. Promise!
Chapter 8
Donatello's Dilemma
The groggy haze was slowly lifting from Donatello. There was noise about him and someone was talking but he really couldn't make it out. To him it just sounded like one continuous groan. Carefully he opened his eyes, trying not to alert who ever was with him that he was conscious just yet. The room was dark but he could just make out a few shapes. Some kind of equipment was scattered about but he still couldn't quite see enough detail.
He could hear shuffling foot steeps coming towards him again so he closed his eyes once more, feigning unconsciousness. The voice was closer now and very clear. It made Donatello's blood freeze. He knew that voice; he still heard it in his darkest nightmares. With as much subtlety as he could muster Donatello tried to lift his arms from the surface he was laid prone on but he met resistance. It took all of his will not to panic at that moment.
"I know you're awake Donatello." He wanted to ignore him, but it wouldn't get him anywhere and he knew it. There was a deep, scratchy laugh right by his ear. "It doesn't really matter. If you want to pretend that you are still unconscious go right ahead. You will still cut just the same."
"Bishop, please don't do this!" There was an edge of panic in his voice that he simply couldn't hide but at least he didn't start to tremble. The man was at his head just out of Donnie's line of sight. He craned his neck but still could not see him. Donatello didn't know why but it was suddenly very important for him to see his tormentor.
"Donatello, you know better than to beg for mercy from me." Now Bishop did step forward into what little light the room offered.
Bishop was dying. Donatello recognized the radiation burns that covered his exposed flesh. Painful welts and blisters marred his once perfect skin, where once his complexion was a pale white it was now a screaming red.
"What happened to you?" Why Donatello asked he wasn't really sure. It wasn't because he was concerned about the man, just honest curiosity.
The wounded man looked down at himself, as if just really noticing that he was different, before he looked back to his latest experiment. He debated not answering the turtle but then decided that it was no consequence for the terrapin to know what he was going to die for so he told him.
"I suppose I could tell you. As you can see aliens have come to this world. We put up a good fight but obviously we lost. That monster Shredder thought he could destroy me, he dropped a bomb on me and my force." He gave a nonchalant shrug. "They were all killed but I was able to live. My genetic engineering allowed me to survive but it still isn't enough. Sense that day my body has been slowly falling apart. However, I have you yet again!" At this the corners of Bishop's mouth twitched up. "Perhaps this time I will succeed. I need more genetic material to finish my new clone body."
Bishop started to shuffle about the room again, turning on a few more lights as he went along. Donnie was finally getting a good look at his surroundings. Donatello's ninja training kicking in as he searched for any weak spots and exits, his mind cataloging and filling away everything that he saw. All of his tools were missing, knee and elbow pads as well as the Staff. He looked about as much as he could but was relieved to see afore mentioned items laid on another table not far from him. He doubted Bishop had any idea what the Staff was capable of. Thinking it no different from the Staff Donnie always carried with him as a weapon. There was the distinct impression that they were fairly deep underground in what might have been an old bomb shelter or a cellar. No windows anywhere to be seen and only one door which looked heavy and rusted.
An old computer sat up against one far wall that was giving off random readings. It was old, perhaps from the sixties, Donatello was mildly surprised that Bishop had been able to get the thing to work. Above the computer was what looked like it could be an oversized fish tank but what was in it was far from anything aquatic. The floating mass vaguely resembled a human form. Donatello could see what might have been the beginning stubs of arms jetting out of the things sides. Bent crippled sticks descending down out of the bodies lower pelvic reign could have been counted as some sort of leg. The head, if that is what it really was, was the shape of a foot ball that had seen better days. There was no nose, only a gaping hole where it should have been. The eyes were dark and misshapen, almost nonexistent.
Donatello averted his gaze, if this was what Bishop wanted to transfer his consciousness into, he doubted there was any real hope for the human. Indeed, Donatello started to pay closer attention to the man. His movements were stiff and erratic. Bishop continued to mutter to himself and he would look up at Donnie every now and again as if he was surprised to see him there.
All that pain, all that loss might have stolen more then Bishop's lab and experiments. It was becoming more and more apparent to Donnie that Bishop had also lost his sanity somewhere along the way as well. He had to get out of there. The man was always a bit unstable before with little care of his or his brother's lives but now that he was insane to boot? Donatello felt an even stronger fear for his own life.
The drug Bishop had used to capture him was out of his system and he was now fully awake. He allowed his body to relax, to let go all of the tension despite his current situation. A deep calmness washed over every muscle and with it a renewed energy. With clear sharp focus he pushed against the restraints and felt the leather give slightly. Hope filled him as he relaxed his muscles again. Everything about the place he was in was old and dilapidated; he stood a real chance of escaping! He just needed to free himself before Bishop started to pay attention to him again. Again, with all of his strength he tried the old leather; it stretched but did not break.
"Now," Bishop announced staggering back to Donatello's side. "Let us see what you can do for me."
There was no time left as the man approached him with a scalpel in hand. The tool itself also looked like it had been scavenged out of an old medical dumpster. With as much strength as he could muster, which was quite a lot, he pulled but once again the bonds did not break.
"Now, now, there is no need for you to try and escape the inevitable. Don't worry, this will hurt."
"Bishop, please don't do this." Donatello wasn't begging, he could never bring himself to do that. He was trying to appeal to what little bit of Bishop that was human to not bring harm to another living, feeling creature. Yet, Donnie knew his voice fell onto def ears.
He refused to look away as the blade came down upon the thick skin on his arm. It was dull and Bishop had to put his weight down on the thing to get it to make the first incision. Pain radiated through Donnie but it was no worse than he had felt before and he tuned most of it out. Years of fighting and numerous wounds had taught him well; how to feel beyond his own pain.
There was a wet slap next to his ear, like a large peace of raw meat being put on a dinner plate. Donatello didn't need to look to know that he was now missing a large chunk from his arm. He hoped it would appease Bishop for now. Blood flowed freely from the new opening; he could hear it running off the table onto the floor like a court yard water fountain.
Muttering and shuffling were the sounds Donatello was trying to focus on, anything but his arm. However, it wasn't any more comforting as it was clear Bishop was far from done with him. Something heavy and made of metal was being picked up. Donatello continued to stare at the ceiling, pulling at the leather that bound him to the table. Despite his earlier hope, he felt doomed. The bounds were not letting up no matter how he pulled; he simply didn't have enough leverage.
"I can't seem to get the electric one to work so I will just have to use this one." Donatello glanced over to see Bishop holding a saw. It was a simple one like one would expect to find in most garages. The man laid the thing on Don's chest, teeth down. At the first drag of the blade Donatello didn't feel pain, but on the second it started. It didn't stop, the grating sound reverberating off the stone walls. A new pain, one that he had never felt before was upon him. He wasn't sure when he had started to scream, he was only aware that his voice had gone hoarse.
Blessed blackness began to creep at the edge of his vision. It was a blackness that Donatello welcomed with open arms as it embraced him. He felt as if he were at some great cliff holding on to the edge. He felt his grip slipping but he really didn't care anymore. He welcomed the peace the dark offered and so he willingly let himself fall.
Hours, days, minutes, Donatello really had no concept of time anymore as he felt reality start to come back to him. The first thing he was aware of was the considerable amount of pain in each of his limbs and chest. Past events came back to him in a rush and he sat up. A bit too fast as his head was still spinning. That is when he became aware of the fact he was no longer bound. Bringing a hand to his face he tried to wipe away his blurred vision. It did help some.
He started to mentally check himself over. His arms were stiff and sore; Bishop had made some sort of an attempt to bandage the crater he left on the sorer of his two arms. Donatello really wondered as to why, perhaps regret? He shook his head; it was probably to stop him from bleeding out. Donatello tried to take in a deep breath but stopped when he felt a sharp pain. Bringing up a hand to his chest he grimaced as the burning sensation shot through his whole body. Gently pulling his hand away and looked down at the wet oozing mess. A section of his plastron had been sawed away leaving another gaping wound on his chest. It was also bleeding but it had obviously already clotted some, as long as he was careful it wouldn't tare.
All in all, he was in pain but his injuries could have been a lot worse. Perhaps Bishop decided to take a break? Again he doubted that, more like the man was trying to fix his misshapen clone before he was out of time himself. Still, it didn't change anything; at least he wasn't strapped down now. He was free to move about and to escape.
Donatello let his gaze fall across the room. Like everything else, the lighting was dim but doable. He was in some sort of cell, stone floors and walls with iron bars that looked worn and rusty. It seemed a good possibility that he was in some underground prison instead of a shelter like he had thought before. A toilet that should have been the star of its own horror flick sat against the far wall with the broken remnants of a sink beside it. The part of his mind that would catalog useless bits of information told him that it didn't seem likely that the plumbing would be working.
There was another shape not far away from the old bathroom fixtures. It was covered by some old tattered blanket that was either brown by color or had simply become brown by picking up the dirt from around it. Idly he wondered if he wasn't alone in this nightmare. He didn't say anything allowed but slowly got to his feet and walked in its general direction. Donatello really couldn't explain what he was feeling, but there was an overpowering sense of dread that was incasing him as he got closer.
Quietly he knelt down and reached out his hand coming down on the top of the blanket. There was something very hard underneath and Donatello knew that if it had been alive at one time, that time had long ago passed. He pulled the blanket away and froze at what he saw.
Before him was a large, overgrown shell of a turtle. Instantly his mind went back to his brothers, but it couldn't have been one of them! They had died but it was when they faced down the Shredder one last time. Instantly he knew who it had to be, the only turtle who was missing in this insane world. Donatello knelt a little closer to where the skull laid and there he saw it. Old fabric, limp and lifeless, its color faded to only a scant resemblance to what it had once been but there it was. Donatello picked up the purple bandana and held it up to the light as if that would some how show him that he was wrong. Yet, already his mind had passed over all of the logical scenarios and he knew now that the Donatello of this time had never left his brothers. At least not in the way they thought he had.
It was clear to him now as the story they had given him had seemed so false. He would have never left his brothers without saying anything to them! They probably had been so wrapped up in their own lives that they had simply assumed he left when, in fact, he had been captured.
He looked back to the brittle bones that were close to dust. Many of the bones had been broken and there was some evidence that they had attempted to heal. The dark truth set churning in his stomach. This Donatello had been tortured until he had finally died, all without his family ever knowing.
Suddenly Donnie couldn't breath and his stomach was complaining. With speed he didn't think his injured body quite capable of he was on his feet and backing away. Images ran through his mind at a whirlwind pace. Him being experimented on, continual pain, no hope of escape, knowing that he was going to die…
"No!" he shouted out loud trying to stop the barrage of images. His stomach would not settle so he bent over the broken sink. Donnie's body was trying as hard as it could to empty the contents of his stomach which was difficult as it had been so long sense he had eaten anything. So he dry heaved instead.
He had been there for a while before he was able to get control of himself again. Laying his head against the cool stone he thought back to Bishop. He knew now what he meant about having him again and it had nothing to do with the time he and his brothers were under his mercy. The erg to heave again was upon him but he pushed it back. Slowly he pushed himself away from the wall with a new resolve. There would be no way that he would die here and he knew that his family would never forget about him. They still had hope for each other.
There was noise in the corner opposite to him and he prepared himself for a fight. Wounds or not, he would take Bishop down before he could do him in again. However, Bishop is not what he saw. Another form laid prone on the ground, shivering slightly. This one was large and only its silence from before was why Donnie had missed it. There was something very familiar about it and he moved forward silently, dropping the faded purple mask to the dank floor.
The figure turned to face him and there was no mistaking Leather Heads long face. Donnie felt warmth grow inside of him at seeing a familiar face but it was quickly extinguished as he took in the emaciated form.
"Donatello?" the voice was weak and raspy. "I must be dreaming again."
"No, my friend, you are not." Donatello placed a gentle hand on the alligators shoulder. Most of his body was cover in sores and open wounds that hadn't healed properly. Many of them looked to be infected and gangrenous. "What has happened to you my friend?" Donatello gasped softly. He didn't really want an answer as the question was more rhetorical than anything. He knew what had happened and Bishop was the one to blame.
"How is it that you are here? You are dead…" his eyes were going in and out of focus and he really wasn't sure if he wasn't being delusional again. It would be nothing new if he was, the drugs Bishop constantly pumped into him kept him in a dream like state. However, he was sure Bishop had either forgotten about him or thought he was dead because he hadn't seen the man in over a month now.
"Leather Head, I am really here." Donatello griped his shoulder a bit harder so that he would feel his touch through his thick hide. The eyes began to focus and then well up with tears that didn't fall. Donatello proceeded to tell Leather Head his and Karai's story and how they had to get back to their own time. He knew that he shouldn't, but he also told him that the world he lived in would have a new hope as well because the Shredder would die. Leather Head looked at him skeptically but didn't argue. As he spoke he helped his giant friend into a sitting position, bracing him against the wall.
"So in your time none of this has happened?"
"No, my brothers are still together and you still live about two miles from us in the sewers."
Leather Head's eyes grew misty as he looked over Donnie's head towards the iron door and lock. "Then we have to get you back to that time." He said with harsh finality.
Nether of them missed the sound of a key turning in a lock and they looked to see Bishop. The man looked up and about when he didn't see Donnie where he had left him but then his eyes widen when he seen the eight foot alligator on its feet.
"I thought you were dead!" He sounded more annoyed then anything else and he fumbled about for the dart gun that hung at his side.
A roar that reverberated off the walls was issued forth from Leather Head. The alligator moved forward in such a rush the Don had little time to react, only step out of his friend's way. He watched, numbly as Leather Head picked up the man and pulled at limbs. Donatello closed his eyes but he still knew what was happening. There was screaming which drowned out most everything else but still he could hear popping and tearing. Then all sound stopped. The screaming and snarling had matched each other in their life and death struggle but the ending was inevitable.
Without looking down Donatello opened his eyes, he was not a coward but he hated death, even the death of someone who would, and had already killed him. Yet, he wasn't about to stop Leather Head. They both deserved their freedom. He locked eyes with a very weak looking Leather Head.
"Come on my friend," Leather Head said softly as if even talking took more energy then he had.
Donatello didn't question and moved out of the cell, stepping over the pieces that had once been Bishop. He got to the end of the hall that led into the lab he had been held in before and waited for Leather Head to catch up. The old alligator struggled to stay standing as he slowly made his way to Donnie's side, sheer will alone keeping him on his feet. Without a word Don moved quickly into the adjoining room, collected his belongings and putting the Staff safely back into his belt before he moved back to Leather Head. He grabbed him about the waist trying to assist him out. The sight would have been comical to anyone who didn't know what the two had been through; Donatello's slight figure trying to support an eight foot alligator three times his own size.
Step by step they moved out of the underground lab and towards what Donnie hoped was an exit towards the surface. The going was slow but at last they had made it. Leather Head propped himself up against a wall as Don opened the door. Sweet cool air embraced them both.
Night had fallen and the moon shown brightly above them. Leather Head moved out of the darkness of the underground and into the welcoming light. He held out his arms and a smile graced his lips and then he began to fall. Donatello seen this and moved to help but there really wasn't much he could do as the twelve hundred pounds that was Leather Head descended.
"Leather Head!"
There was slight movement as he tried to roll over onto his back, in the end Donatello had to help him.
"Thank you my friend." There was a great sigh and then his breathing became shallower.
"Leather Head, come on. You can't stay here. It isn't safe."
Great brown eyes turned to Donnie and he knew that Leather Head had gone as far as he was going to go. He was dead when Donnie had found him in that cell. For some reason that he didn't know and probably never would know, Leather Head had held onto life just long enough to set them both free.
"I…" Leather Head struggled a bit to catch his breath before he continued. "I want to thank you." Again that sad smile crossed his features. "You set me free."
"Thanks to you to, friend," Don didn't say any more. There wasn't any more for him to say. Tears stung his eyes and there was a burning at the back of his throat but he ignored it. Leather Head was gone. His eyes glassed over with death but he looked happy still. No more pain, just freedom.
Donatello gently closed the eyes of his dear friend, turning to gaze at the blanket of starts above them. "Safe journey, may you find peace." It hurt to say those words but he knew his Leather Head was at home, alive and safe. However, that knowledge did little to settle the pain in his hart.
Donatello stood. His next mission clear, he had the Staff and he was now free. He had to find Karai and get out of this place. Leonardo was by far the best tracker but Don wasn't all that bad himself. He would head back in the direction of the building where he had originally lost sight of her and go from there. Donatello started off at a jog, ignoring the pain in his chest and arm; he needed to get them both home and fast before anything else happened.
A/N: Hope this part was okay, I was struggling with a few bits here and there. Mostly I wanted to write about Donnie waking up in a room with his own remains, how would one deal with such a horror? Thankfully it is something that only happens in our deepest, darkest nightmares…
