Fractured
Fragment #1: His Hell
The ticking hand of a clock resonated loudly somewhere within the mildly spacious area of the living room, echoing sharply, almost threateningly, off of the surrounding walls. Each second felt like an hour, the awkward symphony that the annoying clicking created sounded more like claps of lighting against Leatherhead's eardrums. He exhaled slowly, looking back into the bottomless, chocolate orbs of his close friend, unable to even comprehend what feelings, emotions, or thoughts were brewing up beyond their depths. How could he even begin to decipher what laid just beneath Don unreadable facade? Heck, he couldn't even scratch the surface of what the genius turtle's feelings right now. All he could do was make assumptions about Don's well being- both physically and mentally-, try to sympathize with him, and be there for him as he gradually healed.
"Donatello… we don't have to do this if you don't want to," Leatherhead said carefully as he adjusted his sitting position, his elbows rested on his knees so that he could clasp his hands together in a recognizable posture of reflection. He had positioned himself directly in front of Don, only a few feet resided between them, "It's still early. You still need some time to recover and-"
"Leatherhead…," Although the intellectual turtle's voice sounded relatively meek, it held enough power and insistence to stop the larger reptile's initial flow of organized words. Don was seated in the diagonally placed armchair in respect to the multiple television sets that were being blocked by the large lizard's broad, towering form. He gulped loudly, licking at his dry lips nervously while clasping his hands tightly together, "It's alright. I understand your concern but i-it's better to do it sooner rather than later. You know that."
The large lizard sighed, shifting in his seat slightly, "I know this, my friend, but mental recall… it won't be an easy experience for you. I could undo you all over again if you were to delve deep enough into your memories."
Don seemed to contemplate this for a moment before he broke the other's gaze, choosing instead to look down at his hands, "I'll just have to be careful. We'll take baby steps. A little bit at a time."
Leatherhead paused, silently admiring the turtle's strength, even during times like this. His recovery seemed to be moving along successfully. He supposed it had something to do with being surrounded by the love of his family, his mate, and his own kind. Besides, as far as the larger mutant and the other Hamatos could piece together from Don's fragmented details thus far, the intelligent turtle had been attack by humans. Perhaps being in the company of mutants or other anthromorphic folk was his best chance at rebuilding his confidence. Even so, Don's human friends had to be informed that the intellectual turtle had finally been returned home.
Leatherhead smiled sadly at his friend, leaning his torso forward while reaching across the small space that resided between them. His much larger hand gingerly cupped the side of Don's face, shocked chocolate orbs jumped back up to lock onto intense, sorrowful obsidian; the genius turtle gasped so softly that Leatherhead almost didn't catch it. His rough padded thumb, as gingerly as possible, slide over the skin of Don's lower lid, "I… just do not wish to see you shatter again. I could not bear it."
Don swallowed thickly at his comrade's words, his eyes shifting self-consciously away after several wordless seconds. He leaned into the touch momentarily, inhaling reflectively before he slowly pulled away from the other's touch, "Thank you, Leatherhead, but I will be fine."
Don paused before craning his head back and around the armchair, briefly glancing towards the dormitories where he knew his family was anxiously waiting. They had been told to keep quiet while the session was going on… and that no matter what they heard- no matter how worrisome or alarming- they would not interrupt until the very end.
Donatello turned his attention back to the other, giving his a friend a doubtful look, "Are you sure this will work? I mean… it never worked when you tried it on me before."
LH nodded, "That may be true, but the circumstances were different then. Although your level of awareness and intellect would normally make it hard for this form of hypnotism to work, your emotional and mental state have been… well… knocked off its axis, essentially. Your equilibrium has been lost, Donatello. Right now, your mind is looking for some form of solace and the relaxing effects of hypnosis will do just that. It… my be a long shot but it is the only possible doorway we have into your subconscious."
Don paused once again, a sense of fright entered his face but only by a little, "C-can't you just ask me?"
The larger mutant's eye ridges furrowed with sympathy, "Can you truly remember on your own, Donnie? It has already been a week since your return and you can only recall bits and pieces of what has happened to you. While your conscious self may be unable to recall, you subconscious self has, more than likely, retained everything… we just have to unlock those things."
Don sighed, knowing that what Leatherhead was saying was true. The questions that he had been asked by his brothers, his father, and Leatherhead once he was able to speak properly and walk on his own had not unearthed anything from his waking memories; granted, they weren't exactly thorough question but no one really wanted to force answers out of him at the moment. All in all, Don saw his friend logic… he was just… well, "… I'm scared…"
LH couldn't help but blink at the other's blunt honesty. He was more surprised, however, that Don would openly admit that he was afraid. Donatello would never do that… but then again, things were different now; Don was not himself and he wouldn't be himself for quite some time.
Several heartbeats passed between them before LH reached his hand forward for a second time, carefully separating Don's tightly clasped hands to gently hold one of them. The lizard smiled again, try to comfort the other as much as he could, "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. We can wait. It is all up to you, my friend."
Don shook his head in response, "I… I may be scared of what I will see… but there is nothing I can do about it. Its either now or later and… I-I prefer to just get it over with."
"… Alright," He squeezed the Donnie's hand slightly, "If what you see becomes too much for you, no matter what degree of intensity it may be, just squeeze my hand and I will bring you back."
"If it works."
"Yes. If it works. Alright?"
"… Okay."
Leatherhead nodded curtly before taking a deep breath, his eyes became inviting and entrapping. Donatello found himself paralyzed by the stare, unable to break away, unable to think… hell, unable to concentrate on anything but those obsidian pools. The larger reptile spoke again, this time his voice was, somehow, smoother and… deeper, in sound and bass. It became an even monotone, almost too balance to be a real voice, "Listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on nothing else but my voice and the sound of the clock in the distance. Can you hear it? Nod if you do."
Gosh, he sounded like a recording…
Don found himself nodding without consciously meaning to. LH smiled, "Good. Now, close your eyes and continue to focus. I am going to count down from ten. With each descending number, you will find yourself getting closer and closer to a state of weightlessness. The clock's rhythm will be the director to your decent. Do you understand?"
Another nod.
"Good. Close your eyes."
Don eyes slowly closed, the sound of the clock that had once sounded so distant suddenly sounded louder than ever, as if it were directly next to his ear. Each 'tick' sounded like a movement of the earth underneath his feet. He tensed but relaxed when Leatherhead began the countdown.
"Ten."
Tick
"Nine…"
Tock
"Eight…"
Tick
"Seven…"
Tock
"Six…"
… Was it just Don or was… the pauses getting slower? Was the clock slowing down? Had it coincidentally malfunctioned? Now of all time?
"…Three…"
Don's heartbeat jumped. Where the hell did five and four go? He was beginning to panic now but… for some reason it didn't seem to show through his person enough to alert LH. He was stuck; the point of no return.
"…Two…"
…Tick…
Time was stopping, Don's physical body felt nonexistent somehow. Like… like it was floating; like there was no gravity. The physical world was disappear right before his senses.
"…One…"
…
"Sleep."
Nothingness.
"… Donatello?"
Don was jolted awake by Leatherhead's voice once again, his eyes opened but were momentarily unfocused. He couldn't identify his surroundings quite yet but he already knew where his mind had brought him, sadly. He squinted his eyes, trying to force his sight to adjust but found it to be hopeless at the moment.
"Donatello? Are you still with me?"
Don nodded, "Y-yes."
"Okay. We're going to go back to that day. The very first day. Concentrate and remember…"
Don complied, his vision cleared miraculously, as if on cue. He felt his breath hitch; he was automatically able to identify where he was: a bare, empty room with grey, concrete walls on all angles. He didn't need to be hypnotized to remember this abominable place. How could he not? He could still remember the texture of rough, abrasive concrete against his skin, the dry, tasteless air, and the maddening silence. All that was missing was a straight jacket and a sense of sterility.
His eyes then found the set of stairs at the far right corner of the room; something that had always seemed like a bittersweet notion to him. After all, it was the only pathway out of his two week prison but the door at the very top had always been locked, automatically impeding his escape… and it had been locked from the outside. If it had been from the inside, the intellectual turtle would have been able to get out without a hitch. Whoever locked him away knew that he wasn't just a mutated turtle; they knew he was a smart mutated turtle.
They knew he was smart enough to get out of any normal situation, like a locked cage with a combination lock or a room with at least one window. This, however, forced him to play the waiting game… to 'play along', essentially, with his captors. At the time, he thought he was going to be interrogated or, at the very worst, tortured for information about his brothers, the liar, or his technology. Oh… how wrong he had been.
"Where are you?"
"… My hell."
"… How do you feel? Are you able to move around freely or are you impeded?"
Don slowly looked down at himself, noticing the fetters that chained his wrists together: a set of handcuffs. He suddenly felt a wave of dizziness come over him, his body rocking awkwardly to the side, his shoulders leaning against a nearby wall for support.
"I'm dizzy… the world is spinning. I'm drugged and… I'm handcuffed."
"Is anyone there with you?"
"No… not yet anyway."
Don shook his head roughly, attempting to dispel the nauseating dizziness that plagued his vision but to no avail, "I'm in a room, no windows. It's bare… only a mattress, a set of stairs and a door."
"You're in a basement of some kind?"
"Most likely; I believe so."
"Does it look familiar? Have you see it before that day or no?"
Don paused, look the room over again, "I'm… not sure. A great deal of homes in Manhattan have the same look to their basements so I… I don't know."
"Okay. Don't think to hard on it. Now, what-"
Don's heart leapt up into his throat when the sound of a turning lock was heard. He stumbled a little, trying to back away from the staircase but only succeeded in loosing his footing, falling back on the naked mattress beside him. He began to pant, his heart like a wildly beating drum by now before he sat up right, facing the stair as defensively as his fatigued state would allow.
"Donnie? Donatello? What is happening?"
"S-someone's coming."
"Right now? That… that's not right. We are in control of this. When did-"
The door at the top of the stair slowly opened, the unattended hinges squealed in protest. Don's hand clenched into the ragged mattress beneath him, his anxiety increasing by a mile with each passing second. A lone figure stood at the very top. It was formless, void of a personified figure; it was like a living shadow. Although Don could not recognize the person, a sense of… disappointment- betrayal?- rose within him. Why though?
It began to walk down the stairs slowly, each step loud and booming, as if it were an entity that trailed nothing chaos and misfortune in its wake. It began to speak once it reached the last step, it's voice warped and androgynous, "You brought this upon yourself."
Don growled without meaning to, his mouth opening unconsciously. Was he living out a memory? "What the hell are you talking about? You did this! This is all you! Have… have you completely lost you mind?"
"I know what I want, Don… it so happens to be you. If you hadn't ignored my advances, if only you had just became mine, then I wouldn't have had to do this."
"You're sick _. You're very sick. You need help."
"No… I just need you… and the only way I can see that happening now is if I… persuade you. Or… if you choose to anyway… to break you." The form drew closer until it was standing directly in front of Donnie. It knelt before the genius turtle, obviously not worried about him retaliating or striking it. Was it because Don was drugged… or did it know that he wouldn't?
"Donatello?"
"I love Leo! You can't change how I feel about someone."
It chuckled,"We'll see…"
"Donatello, answer me."
It whistled loudly, startling Don slightly. As if on cue, a double set of feet began a slow decent down the steps, the sound of it, ominous and dangerous to the turtle's ears. He began to shudder; it seemed that Don had stepped outside of his memories again. He stood up swiftly, distancing himself from the stairway as much as possible, "L-leatherhead… b-bring me back. Please…"
"… I am going to count down from five. With each number, your consciousness will become more and more aware of the present as you slip away from your subconscious. Five..."
"Hurry…" The figures, who's forms were more pronounced than that of the living shadow, walked towards his retreated form. They seemed to tower over him, as if he were the size of an ant or they were size of skyscrapers.
"Four…"
They were both obviously male, both wore devilish smirks; one of them reached for the fly of his pants while the other licked at his lips with a disgusting anticipation.
"Three…"
"Heh… at least you got one of the pretty ones," The one closest to Don said, one of his hands reaching forward and towards Don's face, "I think we're going to have fun with him…"
"Two…"
Don closed his eyes tightly, his shell hitting the concrete wall. No where left to go. He was shaking. His breath shallow, 'God… not again… please not again.'
"One…"
Several faces crowded Don when he came back to reality. He gasped loudly for air, his form automatically reclined and scrunched into the crevice of the armchair he had originally been in from the start of this process. He almost had a panic attack, what with all the unexpected faces that came into view when he returned from the domain of his subconscious. It took no more than five seconds for Don to identify the faces that had not been there when the 'recall' experiment had first started: a surprised Michelangelo, a worried Master Splinter, a borderline homicidal Raphael and… a failingly emotionless Leo who looked about ready to scoop Don up within the safety of his arms at any second.
Startled brown eyes jumped from face to face, his breathing eventually balancing out after several seconds of self reassurance; he was home, he was safe, he was no where near his hell, and he wasn't going back. He was safe.
The silence that surrounded them was nearly deafening as they all waited for the intellectual turtle to talk; to say something- anything- that would show them that he was alright. When that didn't seem to come, Leo decided to break the ice.
The blue clad turtle knelt down directly next to Leatherhead, gently gripping the hand that had once been in LH's grasp, "Donnie… are you alright?"
That seemed to snap Don out of it, "… Y-yes."
A collective sigh followed, everyone's forms slump forward with relief. Don's state of stability- as much as he had gathered anyway- had not been undone. Even so… he had come dangerously close to doing just that.
"D-dude," Mikey spoke, his voice oddly uncertain, "Did you… did you know who did this to you?"
Don paused, looking long and hard at his youngest brother before he turned his gaze down to his mate, lightly squeezing his hand back. He thought back to what he had just experienced, the way he had talked to the formless blob of darkness as if he were talking to someone he… knew.
He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes tightly before nodding, "One of them… I knew one of them…"
A/N: PHEW! Gosh, this was a marathon! (smh) Man, I was determined to finish the rest of this in one sitting, though, and I did it! Yayness. : 3
Anyway, I hope this was okay. I hope you guys liked it because this took a toll on me. I had to research a little bit on hypnosis, hunt down forms of inspiration… hell, I even listen to a grandfather clock in order to concentrate fully on the hypnosis scene. I don't know what you guys think of it but I felt that since Don went through a traumatic experience, one of the only ways to fully access his memories would be via hypnosis or some other form of recollection.
Ugh… I'm tired… sorry if there are typos or grammar mistakes. I will get to them at another time, I promise. Right now, I just want to sleep (passes out)
Hope you liked.
