Disclaimer: Unless you don't recognize them, I don't own them. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment.

Fair warning, this is going to be an Alternate Universe fic. It takes place not too long after the 2007 CGI movie, but the Shredder is still alive and well and in charge of the Foot. Other details of the original timeline may or may not also be altered as I go along.

Also, for the purpose of my world the ages of the Turtles are Leo, Raph, Don then Mikey (from eldest to youngest). Personally, I just find Leo and Raph being the two eldest makes the most sense based on personalities and the interactions between the Turtles.

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A special thanks to Kindred Spider for helping me through the minor meltdown I had trying to write this chapter.

I've rewritten it several times without getting to something I was happy with, but she finally convinced me that it wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be, with some minor tweaking. I'm still not sure how happy I am with the finished result, but decided to put my trust in her (though she didn't read through the final version, so if it does stink it is my fault, not hers).

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Warning: The following chapter mentions self-harm (cutting). If this will bother you, please do not read this chapter.

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For several heartbeats, Donatello could only stare in horror at his exposed scars. NO, NO, NO NO…the mantra repeated continuously in his head. Panicking, he attempted to leap up and run from the room, only to suffer a dizzy spell, nearly blacking out as he collapsed.

Only Leonardo's quick reflexes enabled him to catch his brother before he crashed onto the floor, but no sooner had he wrapped his arms around Donatello than he started thrashing in his arms. "No, no, let me go! Let me go!"

"Donnie, Donnie, easy. It's me, Leo. Take it easy!" Leonardo tightened his grip on his brother as his struggles only increased.

"No! Don't touch me, damn you! Leave me alone!" Donatello kicked back at Leo's knee, attempting to take him down or at least unbalance him enough to allow him to free himself. Leonardo was able to raise his leg and take the blow on his calf instead without losing his balance. Before Donatello was able to take advantage of his less-stable stance, Leo regained his footing. He was at a loss to understand what was going on, but was thankful Donatello was still weak and sluggish from his ordeal. With desperation lending his younger brother strength, it was all Leo could do to maintain his hold.

"Donatello, please, calm down! I only want to help you," Leonardo pleaded, not understanding why his brother was reacting so violently.

"And what if I didn't want your fucking help?!" Donatello retorted, throwing his head back in an attempt to head-butt Leo, which was read and avoided. Leo made a note to himself to work with Donnie on not telegraphing his moves, even when upset, when things had calmed down.

"I was doing fine on my own," Donatello continued, "I've always done fine on my own. I don't need any of you sticking your heads into my business now, pretending that you care!"

"Donnie…" Leonardo was stunned. He had no idea what to say, how to act. The venom in Donatello's voice…directed at him, at their family…what had happened to his calm, understanding brother? How had things possibly descended so far?

"Leo, what's going…" Michelangelo's voice preceded him as he was drawn into the room by the commotion. Upon seeing Donatello awake and aware…and very upset…he cut off in mid-sentence, staring at his brother in relief and confusion.

"You!" Donatello shouted, his still muddled mind assuming, in this case correctly, that Michelangelo had alerted the others as to his cutting. He lunged for his younger brother, wanting to hurt him as much as he himself hurt, only to be held back by Leonardo. "How could you? I trusted you. You promised you wouldn't tell them anything, damn you! You promised!"

"Donny, please," Michelangelo plaintively cried, reaching towards his brother only to abort the motion when he realized that in his current state of mind, moving to within striking distance would be a very bad idea. "I didn't want to, but you need help! You won't stop and nothing I said was working!"

"For the last time, I am perfectly fine! I don't need help from any of you!" The hatred directed at him by Donatello's glare speared Michelangelo's heart, causing him to actually gasp out in pain.

"My son, surely you do not truly believe that."

The three turtles turned towards the voice of Splinter to see that he and Raphael had entered the now crowded room.

"Well, well, the gang's all here," Donatello sneered. Noticing that Leonardo had relaxed his hold upon the interruption of their father, he gave a hard shove and was finally able to extricate himself from Leonardo's grasp. Without the support he stumbled slightly, but quickly moved back to the bed, resting a hip against it to help maintain his balance.

His anger still burned hot, running like lava through his veins, but under that lay deep confusion and pain. This was why he hadn't wanted the others to know about his absolutions. He knew that they wouldn't…couldn't understand. They weren't like him. Even among other freaks, he didn't fit in. Would never fit in…

Why couldn't they see? He deserved to be punished. He was never good enough, never fast enough, strong enough. They agreed with him, he knew they did. Cutting was the only way he could make the guilt go away, even if it was only temporarily. It was the only thing that gave him any peace; that quieted the voices screaming in his head of disappointment…

Eyes still a bit wild, he took a moment to survey the room. The only door was blocked by Splinter and Raphael. Both were watching him cautiously, but without any extreme emotions visible on their faces. While this was expected in the case of Splinter, it was decidedly unexpected for Raphael. Not for the first time, Donatello wondered at what was running through his brother's head.

Leonardo was closest to him, still standing where Donatello had left him and watching his younger brother with wary concern, almost as if he expected Donatello to pull a blade out of thin air and attack either the others or himself.

It was Michelangelo that caused his heart to clench in pain, however. His younger brother was standing near the middle of the room, staring at him with tears streaming down his face. He hated to see his little brother cry, especially when he was the cause.

"Why did you tell them?" he demanded of his orange-banded brother, though it came out more as a weak plea. He was too weak…to tired…for this. Whatever had happened to him during the fight, he had not yet fully recovered. His legs only grudgingly held him upright and his thoughts were irritatingly slow and muddled. Tears of frustration sprang to his eyes, though he stubbornly held them back. He would not show even more weakness. He would maintain at least that much dignity.

Feeling cold and isolated, he brought his arms up, enfolding himself in their embrace. "Why, when you promised you wouldn't?"

Michelangelo opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by their Father.

"My son, your brother only did what he thought was best." Splintered moved towards Donatello, his hand out to place on the turtle's shoulder.

Before he could, however, Donatello turned away, fear and adrenaline giving him a second wind as he maneuvered around his Father and stood off to the side, facing the room at large. Though he was now stuck between Raphael and Splinter, at least one barricade between himself and escape had been removed.

Splinter dropped his hand to join his other on the top of his cane. His head sagged, weighed down at the guilt of seeing his son flee his touch, and he wondered yet again how he could have possibly missed seeing that Donatello had been in so much pain.

"What was best?" Donatello shouted. "How can you possibly say that? He thought it was best to betray my trust? That it was best to go back on his word?"

"My son, please listen to me! Your brother did do what was best. This hurt that you are causing yourself, this pain that you carry inside, it is not right…"

"Bullshit! For the past two years all I've heard is how worthless I am, how I just don't measure up to Leonardo, to any of you! Even before that, I was never good enough for this Clan. No matter what I did, how hard I worked, what I gave…all that mattered was that I was the weakest fighter. You treated me as nothing but a disappointment, as a second class citizen, not worthy of true membership in the Clan!"

"Don't yell at Master Splinter," Leonardo demanded angrily, striding up to Donatello and poking him in the chest with a finger. "All he's trying to do, all any of us are trying to do is help you. Stop overreacting to everything…"

"Overreacting?" Donatello interrupted, slapping Leonardo's hand away and stepping closer to his eldest brother. He glared up into his face, spittle flying from his mouth as he snarled, "Overreacting?! And how, pray tell, did you arrive at that conclusion, oh glorious leader? You haven't even been here for the last two years. Or have you forgotten?"

Leonardo's face heated in embarrassment at being called out. The conversation was not going at all how he had expected. Once again he wondered at the change in his brother, who was acting more like Raphael than the cool, logical Donatello he knew. And Raphael was just leaning against the wall, watching with calm, rational eyes. It was more than a little disconcerting to Leonardo. It seemed that the whole world had gone crazy while he was gone, and it left him feeling uncertain and off-balance.

He knew he couldn't let that show, however. He had to be the confident one, the strong one, the Leader. Otherwise the last two years would be nothing but a waste of time, and he would not allow them to be meaningless, especially after seeing how much his family had suffered while he had been gone.

He would take control of this situation. He would prove to Donatello that it wasn't necessary for him to punish himself, that he was taking things too far…

"No, Donnie. I admit; I wasn't here. But I have been the leader for years. I've faced the same problems and challenges you did. You don't see me becoming so upset that I stoop to cutting myself up out of some misplaced sense of guilt."

Donatello could only stare at his brother, shocked and yet also feeling strangely exhonerated by his cruel words. He knew it. He knew that he was a failure…useless…unwanted…

Raphael had had enough. He had made a promise to himself and his little brother to make things right, and he intended to keep it.

"Nah, you just got so upset that you decided to run away and go awol for two years. Personally, Leo, I'd say you don't have much room to talk."

The entire room turned to look at Raph, still leaning against the wall next to the door, arms folded over his chest. "'Sides, you've always had Splinter backing you up. We all know nine times outta ten he's gonna take your side when any fights come up between us. He basically threw Donnie in the deep end without water wings and stood back to see if he'd manage to swim."

Donatello could only gape in astonishment, flustered at being defended by Raphael, who for two years had not had a kind word for him, had seemed to resent his very existence. A small kernel of warmth sprang to life deep in his heart for a moment before he ruthlessly crushed it. He should now better by now. Raphael wasn't defending him, he was only arguing with Leonardo as he had always done. That to do so he had to seem to stick up for Donatello meant nothing. He had made his true feelings towards his younger brother very clear. Donatello refused to allow himself to believe otherwise; refused to allow himself to hope. He did not think he would survive another disappointment.

"And let's not forget the support that Donnie himself gave you," Raphael continued, ignorant of the battle raging within Donatello. "Coming up with inventions and ideas to save our bacon all the time, being there for you to run ideas past. Donnie didn't have none of that while you were gone. He was fighting, on his own, to keep this Clan together while we all did our best to tear it apart. So don't you dare compare his time as Leader to yours."

Leonardo was beyond confused. How did he wind up being the bad guy? He hadn't taken the knife to Donatello. He was only trying to make him see that what he was doing was wrong. "Look," he sighed, "I don't understand why we keep dwelling on the matter of who made the better Leader. I thought we were going to talk to Donatello about his cutting? We know now that he can't handle a position of Leadership within the Clan. Forget the details, it's obviously just not healthy for him. So he's not going to be put in the situation again. Problem solved. Can we move on to the more important issue now?"

Michelangelo gave an uncharacteristic snarl and rushed forward to shove Leonardo in his chest. "Don't you dare talk about him like that! You weren't here. You have no idea how hard we all made it for him. You think Raph gives you grief? That was nothing compared to the hell he put Donnie through. And, unlike you who have Donnie and Master Splinter to fall back on, he didn't have anyone supporting him!"

Donatello couldn't take it anymore. Why were they trying to offer him hope, trying to convince him that they cared, when he knew that they didn't? Why were they so set on breaking him? Did they truly hate him so much? Were they that determined to turn him into the servant they so often treated him as?

"So now you both are on my side?" he snorted, glaring back and forth between Michelangelo and Raphael with watery eyes. He wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore, so many emotions were roiling around inside his mind. "Where was all this support when I needed it?! Don't think you have me fooled. None of you actually care about me. You're just upset because you don't want to lose the perk of having your own handyman."

"Donnie," Michelangelo cried, turning to his brother, reaching his right hand out, "that's not true! You can't believe that! You're our brother! We love you!"

Donatello snorted in contempt, moving away from the reach of yet another member of his family. Anger and pain; disappointment and sadness; guilt and that slim sliver of hope that refused to be destroyed all warred inside, confusing him and leaving him feeling small and vulnerable. And so he lashed out, desperate to make his brothers stop confusing him with words and actions so very different from those to which he had become accustomed.

"Really? You all certainly have an odd way of showing it. 'Donnie, fix this!" he sneered, "'Donnie, make me this,' 'Donatello, I'm disappointed in you. It is up to you to set the example for your brothers to follow.' Argh!" he shouted, bringing his hands to his head only to fling them out again at his next sentence. "It never ends! The whining, the demands, the complaints…

"Contrary to apparent common opinion, I am just as much a member of this Clan as the rest of you; I contribute as just much as the rest of you, if not more, to its well being.

"I have provided us with security, food and water, and creature comforts. I serve as doctor, psychologist, repairman, and a myriad of other positions and yet no matter how much I do for this Clan, it is never enough! I am granted only ridicule, ingratitude and broken promises, and I cannot take it anymore.

"I am DONE. The hired help is putting in his resignation, effective immediately!"

With that he rushed past the startled Raphael and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him as he fled. Seconds later, they all heard the door to the lair close behind him as well.

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In his private dojo, Oroku Saki sat in the lotus position on a small, thin mat that covered the bamboo floor in one corner of the room, meditating after his evening workout. Android and Utron eyes were closed as his mind floated in the calming nothingness. Black training pants set off the pale synthetic skin of the bared torso, a slight sheen of artificial sweat reflecting the light from the glowing candles he had lit before entering his trance.

Suddenly the phone installed on the wall next to the door rang, interrupting his peace. Sighing deeply, he stretched his tentacles over his head, android arms following the motion with a slight arching of the back. Two sets of eyes, one fathomless black, the other red as blood, opened. A single thought, and his body gracefully rose from the mat and walked over to the still ringing phone.

"Yes?"

He listened as the person on the other end spoke, a deviously evil smile working its way onto his face. "Excellent. Inform Doctor Stockman."

Receiving an affirmative, he hung up the phone, self-satisfied smile still on his face.

"Soon, Donatello. Very soon, you will be mine."