Author's Note: Get ready for some action, guys! Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favs! They make my day.

Two song suggestions for this chapter, very important. First half of the chapter - "Still Here" by Digital Daggers. A lot of their songs take me back this fic, so if you're interested, check out their album The Devil Within. Needless to say, it truly fits with this story.

Later on, however, is a different story. If you want an awesome song to add as a soundtrack to Donnie's first ever fight as a Foot ninja, "Shut Em Down" by Celldweller is my pick. This song is intense... and so is the battle. Enjoy.

"Again!" barked TigerClaw, his beady black eyes never leaving the pupil known as Hisoka. Inwardly seething, Donatello readied himself once more. This time, the FootBot attack came from the left, and with no weapon to defend himself, Donnie could only roll away and hope for speed. He was no match for the bot, though – not like this. Without his bo staff in hand and still uncertain of how to distribute his weight in battle, Donnie could only barely evade the hits and do nothing to counter them. They'd been at this for weeks, with every moment he wasn't in the lab falling to this time-consuming humiliation.

This wasn't like training with his family.

The style was altogether different, reminiscent of Karai's distinctive movements but harsher and more mechanical (and not even on part of the bots). Leaning ninjutsu from TigerClaw and Rahzar was a world away from Splinter's teaching and it left Donnie at a loss. Whereas before he'd carefully cataloged all the movements, jumps, rolls and jabs from the first fifteen years of his life, he now found an insistent grating voice, berating him into something new and cold.

Watching the other students, if they could even be called as such, had chilled him to the core. It was the things they were taught – not how to evade, disarm or incapacitate – but ways to dismember, maim and kill. It was a cruel parody of the art he'd learned as a child. And he simply could not catch on, no matter how much the instructors pushed him.

Finally, TigerClaw shoved him to his knees on the mat. The other students began to trickle out, though Donnie had no idea where they went or what they did after their sadistic schooling. However, when Donnie began to rise to follow, the mutant tiger halted him with a snarl.

"You, boy. You are a disgrace."

Donnie bowed his head tensely and said nothing. It shouldn't have mattered to him what a madman like TigerClaw thought, but it did. It mattered so much it burned his soul. Because here he was, in a life parallel to his own, and still he wasn't good enough.

The mutant went on, "If it were up to me, I would leave you in that lab and never prompt you to leave. At least you are of use there," and he might have continued if not for a low, gravelly voice that interrupted.

"And yet it is not up to you, TigerClaw..."

All attention shot to the door of the dojo as the shadows formed into the figure of a person. Shredder stepped into view, his mismatched eyes settling over the pair of them. The Footbots stood nearby, absently attentive. All the other human pupils had left. Shredder stopped in front of where Donnie continued to kneel. Uncertain of what to say or do, Donnie kept in his place, his gaze low and his chest still tight with shame.

"This boy is hopeless, Master." TigerClaw sneered at Donnie from where he stood, tall and proud. Rahzar hovered nearby as well, Donnie noticed, and he seemed interested in what was going on. Donnie kept silent, though he did lift his eyes to Shredder. The two locked gazes in a shared moment of bold, brazen arrogance. Something in Shredder's countenance shifted and Donnie thought Shredder might hit him for his uselessness, maim him in exchange for the pittance of help he had been to them so far.

But he did not. Instead, he brushed TigerClaw away with a swoop of his cloak and began to round Donatello in a thoughtful way. "Rise, boy."

Donnie did so, his eyes back to the mat and shifting uncomfortably. He fought to keep still, but even as Shredder paced, the young genius was busy mapping possible escape routes if worst came about. A few minutes of silence followed before Shredder spoke again, his footsteps silent around Donnie's stationary form.

"Tell me, Hisoka. Is there someone in your life you care for? Someone above all others?"

Donnie's brows furrowed at the unexpected question. What was Shredder getting at? Either way, he would be forced to respond. His first thought was his brothers – but even if he had been able to divulge that, he knew it wasn't the answer Shredder was looking for. With alarming ease, his mind shifted to a freckled face with wide blue eyes.

"Yes," answered Donnie quietly. A pause, and then, "A girl."

Shredder paused in front of him and nodded, and Donnie prepared a fake name – Shredder knew who April was, after all – but the older man never asked. Instead, he spoke a command.

"Close your eyes."

Another flicker of hesitation and then Donnie complied, his vision filling with black. The dojo had fallen quiet, with only Donnie and other masters of silence nearby to stir up a breath of noise. A weapon rack sat off the side, and during training it had rattled ominously. Now it, too, was silent.

Was Shredder trying to relax him? Donatello's mind raced with questions, but he pushed them away. When the other man spoke again, his voice was a heavy weight on Donnie's mind.

"Imagine her face in your mind's eye, boy. See her eyes. Think of her smile. Hear her laughter."

Reluctantly, Donnie let his memories of April tug at his consciousness. Once the flood of visions started, he was powerless to stop them, and the knot in his chest loosened. Behind the darkness of his cloaked vision, he saw April on the first night they'd met, walking peacefully down the street with her father and then later, her hopeful smile when he and his brothers had rescued her from the Kraang.

He saw her on the many nights she'd stayed at the lair, the cool reflection of the television screen on her sleeping face after they'd all finished a late movie. The way she lit up at a new discovery or even grew cross whenever she felt like she was being coddled too much. Her flushed face during training or the adorably annoyed expression she gave him – and only him – on the rare occasion he managed to deny her something.

All of it and more filled Donnie's heart and lifted him from the spot of darkness far below the surface of New York City, where he stood surrounded by murderers and madmen. His lips quirked a bit, his eyes still closed. Shredder must have sensed his comfort, because now he pressed on, his voice lower and more malevolent than Donnie had ever heard it.

"Now... imagine her being ripped from your arms."

Donnie's peace disappeared.

"Imagine her calling out for you, begging for your help as she lies dying. But you can do nothing.. nothing to help her, nothing to save her from the pain. You can only watch as she suffers, as she blames you for not rescuing her."

Donatello tried to ward away the images, but it was too late. His worst fears had centered around April as long as they'd known each other – his horror had always stemmed from the potential for her hatred, for her refusal to accept him as the mutant he was. He had feared it in such a way that it had crippled him when the toxic fungus had shown it to him, incapacitated him in the worst way.

But this – this was more than fear. As Shredder continued, his words growing harsher and more heated, Donatello felt his heart begin to race, his palms perspire. His chest heaved, his vision growing darker beyond the veil of black. His mental vision swam with horrendous images of April, broken and bloody, body mangled and tears rolling down her cheeks. It was terrible, and his rapidfire mind conjured the very worst scenarios in a matter of seconds.

"Imagine losing her to a void of nothingness, knowing that neither you nor she can die, but must only exist to each other as the most torturous of dreams. You cannot see or speak to her again, and if you are to hear her voice, it will only be her screams of agony that reach you. See it in your mind's eye, boy!" his voice rose to a shout. "See the one you love suffer!"

Donnie's eyes shot open. "NO!" he shouted, and just then, he spotted a shadow of movement at his side. Without a second's thought, he wrapped his hand around the nearest weapon and brought it down blindly with a feral shout that tore from his chest and burst into his limbs.

When he next blinked, he saw the long blade of katana split down the center of a Footbot.

It blinked just once, whirring sympathetically and then fell apart to the floor, properly sliced in half by the blade that still trembled in Donnie's grip. Donatello stared, his eyes wide, his lips parted. His chest continued to thud dully against his ribs and no part of him was without tremors.

When he finally braved a look back up at the masters, he found Shredder appraising him with a look he had never seen before – he was pleased.

A hint of awareness dragged April O'Neil from the throes of sleep. She might've pressed it away and continued to sleep, if not for the sensation of a presence nearby. When her gaze adjusted to the semi-darkness of her bedroom, she bolted upright in her bed.

"Donnie?"

The teenage boy in question lifted his head. He was on his knees next to her bed, his hands clasped on the edge and his head bowed against them as if in prayer. He was keeping a vigil at her bedside, and she had no idea how long he'd been there. "What're you doing?" April murmured, moving to stand, but he'd stopped her with both hands, gently coaxing her back to bed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice strangely cracked. "I didn't want to wake you." It was then that April noticed several things – for one, he was dressed in all-black, some sort of uniform she'd never seen before. Another was his expression – he looked stricken, haunted. His brows were furrowed and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He looked desperate and miserable. Like he was letting go of something.

"Donnie..." April reached up and took him by the elbow, drawing him to the bed and sweeping his mussed hair out of his face. He closed his eyes at her touch, wincing even as he followed the motion with a tilt of his head. April frowned. "What happened...?"

"Nothing."

"Liar," she reprimanded quietly. Shifting back on the bed, she tugged him fully onto the sheets. To her surprise, he didn't hesitate, only pausing to kick off his shoes and then fall onto his side beside her. When his eyes lifted to hers, she felt her heart twist.

"Please, tell me what's wrong -"

"Nothing is wrong," he whispered fiercely. He shifted closer to her, his arm moving over her waist to pull her closer. Her heart spiked at the nearness, for more reason than one, but Donnie only dropped his head to brush against hers and close his eyes. She allowed herself to relax when she realized it was only comfort he was seeking – and desperately needed. Still, he wouldn't talk, so April pulled herself up as close to him as possible and snuggled into his grip. A single fingertip reached up to brush against his jaw, a warm palm at his cheek. They remained like that for a few moments, neither speaking. And then he did.

"I love you, April."

He had re-opened his eyes and now nothing could hide the intensity behind them. "You don't have to respond," he went on, his tone lost and uncertain in that way she knew so well from before the accident. The way his voice lilted and dropped, his eyes lowered, his shoulders hunched. "I just wanted you to know."

April flushed, a soft breath escaping her as she swallowed tightly. But she knew what to say – not because she was expected to, but because it was so obvious. With a soft smile, she moved the hand on his cheek to his chest, her fingers curling against the fabric there.

"I love you too, Donnie." Her smile grew. "I love all of you. You're my family." She fell quiet for a moment before continuing, knowing the path of Donnie's mind, even as he kept his expression unreadable. "But..." her voice briefly caught on the words, but she continued. "... the way I … love you. It's different. From your brothers." The corners of her mouth lifted involuntarily. "It always has been."

Donnie's eyes moved over her face, the furious workings of his busy mind evident behind his dark red eyes.

She went on haltingly, "I don't know.. what to call it or... what it means." Her fingers dropped to his and she pulled their joined hands up between them. "... but I know it's special." Their fingers interlocked, and she could feel how much rougher his had gotten since his training. She leaned close.

"And just so you know... I felt that way before your accident."

This time, there was no disguising the series of reactions that battled over Donnie's features. Surprise. Excitement. Uncertainty. Happiness. Fear. Admiration. Love. And then, strangely enough, the fear was back. Reaching up a hand to the small of her back and keeping her close, a more intimate pose than either of them had ever been in, Donnie pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes once more.

She thought she had finally relaxed him into a state of rest, but his next words were as fervent and determined as she'd ever heard them, even as he whispered them into her hair.

"... I will do anything... to keep you safe, April."

Over the next few weeks, Donnie began a new training regimen with TigerClaw and Rahzar. The latter seemed more incline to work with him, and at first it confused Donnie until he remembered that, as Chris Bradford, Rahzar had trained students for years. TigerClaw was more of a stand in, but Rahzar faced the potential of new talent with a sort of hunger and ferocity that Donnie had never seen before. He pushed him, taught him new moves and warped what Donnie felt like he knew about the arts.

Something inside of Donatello had clicked that day with Shredder.

Now, the old ways of Splinter's teachings felt further and further away, replaced by the gratifying pulse of the grittier techniques exercised all around him. Splinter had spent the last sixteen years teaching turtles and had formatted his lessons appropriately – Rahzar had trained humans, and he taught Donnie in the same way. As the time passed, Donnie found himself with new methods of evasion, more tactics for gaining the upper-hand in a fight. He learned how to work his muscles against larger opponents and take advantage of his slimmer, less bulky body in combat.

Whenever he wasn't in the dojo, he was in the lab.

And on the rare occasions he was in neither, he was at Murakami's, asleep or eating. Sometimes he would fight to get away to visit the lair, but those instances were becoming few and far between. Some nights, when the sunrise was only a few hours away, he would leave Shredder's lair and sneak his way into April's bedroom. She never seemed to mind when she found him in her bed, fully-clothed and curled up next to her in the exhausted sort of sleep that had him nearly comatose. Sometimes he could even feel her cool touches on his forehead through his thick sleep, brushing through his hair and stroking his cheek. Those nights, and the mornings that followed, were certainly among the best. His twilight hours were starting to blend together in one long day with only short intermissions for sleep.

One might've thought that being in such a deep state of sleep would steal away his dreams, but the images still came to him every once in a while. The first few times, he had been alone at Murakami's, but on one evening, the images of fire and melted flesh felt so real they jerked him from his sleep right next to April.

"Donnie?" The garbled murmur from his side had Donnie blinking away the horrifying feelings that plagued him. He looked down at April, barely visible under the pile of blankets she'd somehow summoned up the length of the bed and gathered around her face. Sunlight was just starting to peek over the horizon, and its warm rays cast April's bedroom in a healthy glow that did nothing for the wild beating of Donnie's heart.

"Sorry," he murmured. "Bad dream."

He started to get up then, instinct driving him to rise whenever he knew the images wouldn't fade away. He had never been able to return to sleep after being startled awake by the burning maze, but April's arm sleepily grappled at his torso – now covered by a white t-shirt – and pulled him back down. She mumbled something incoherent (April was not a morning person, Donnie had noted) and then settled her arm loosely around him when he was flush against the bed again.

He turned his head to look at the peek of April's face visible beneath her blankets, but she seemed to be asleep once again. He turned under her lax grip and pressed into the pillow.

And then he fell asleep.

"What the hell are you tinkering with now?" asked Rahzar, his unnatural eyes watching Donnie from his corner of the dojo. Donnie glanced up and then turned his gaze back down to the weapon, his eyes scanning it for the slightest hint of imperfections.

"Something special," he said vaguely. A pile of shuriken, emblazoned with the symbol of the Foot, sat off to the side, each with a distinctive glow. Donnie set aside his tools and picked up the first weapon, his current project. Turning it over in his hands, he gave it an appreciative smile. He was due back in the lab any minute – this was actually his break for a meal – but he couldn't resist admiring his work for a moment longer.

Yes. Very special indeed.

"Keep going!" Rahzar growled from the side, and when his opponent paused for breath, Donnie charged. With a sweep of his legs, Donnie snatched the balance from the other boy and sent him sprawling to the mat. A swift strike to the chest had the other ninja gasping on the floor, body curled over and strangled noises escaping him.

Donnie straightened, his mind already gladly categorizing the various moves he'd used, their success against this opponent and others of his size. What he could have done differently, what might have been more successful from an energy conservation standpoint. The physics of the fight, the momentum of the moves, all careful choices furled by a careless, reckless heat he'd never felt before.

He turned away from the struggling opponent, his mind distracted and his posture indifferent.

"Master Shredder."

Oroku Saki slowly turned to face his visitor, his second in command. He raised a brow beneath the mask of his helm, but TigerClaw sensed his question and continued on.

"I have.. suspicions. About the boy, Hisoka."

A moment of silence signaled Saki's contemplation, his hands clasping behind his back speculatively. He turned away from TigerClaw, his eyes on the vast windows that surrounded his lair.

"Then test him."

"It's hooooooooooooooooooot," whined Michelangelo from where he dangled. He continued to swing a little, as if he hoped the breeze might help.

Raphael thwapped him on the head. "Hey, shut your shell, okay? We know it's hot. It's summertime."

Leonardo glanced up from his rooftop vigil and eyed them both. "Would you two focus, please? We're supposed to be looking for signs of Karai."

"Dude, I am melting into turtle soup up here," Mikey dropped to his feet and joined Leo at the edge of the roof, though his posture was much more relaxed than his brother's. "And you know that freaky Shredder just looooves turtle soup." He snickered and Raphael snorted in response, one hand curling into a fist.

"I dunno about soup, but I sure got him some punch whenever he wants it."

Leo rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to the street. It was really hot, particularly by New York standards, but he wasn't willing to turn in just yet. Not when Karai had been spotted so nearby just a few nights ago. It was a big city, but he had hope after their last encounter. Karai had recognized him and that meant there was still time. Still a chance.

Unfortunately, when his attentive gaze caught movement in the shadows, he knew immediately it wasn't the serpentine form of Karai. Blue eye narrowed, Leonardo straightened from his crouch – only to sense movement behind him. When he whirled to face the rooftop, his brothers followed his movements half a second behind.

TigerClaw and a two dozen FootBots stood opposite of them, silent visitors with expressionless masks. On the corner of a distant rooftop, Leo's careful eyes caught the silhouettes of Rahzar and Fishface. His body tensed, but he couldn't say he was surprised. They had shown up everywhere Karai had been, just as the turtles had. But this time, no one had seen Karai. So their presence here could only mean something else. Something Leo hadn't anticipated.

Raphael and Mikey took quick, subtle steps back to Leo's side, their eyes on the enemies, weapons drawn. Leo stepped forward, apart from his brothers.

"Something you need to say, TigerClaw?" he asked, his voice edged with warning.

TigerClaw drew up his great feline face and eyed him distastefully. "Nothing to say to you, turtle. But a message to send... perhaps." He beckoned behind him, his eyes turned to the dark sky.

"Hisoka!"

Leo's brows furrowed and he and his brothers followed TigerClaw's gaze to the stars. They had only to wait a moment before a dark figure came tumbling through the sky in a black flash, landing smoothly in front of them, crouched low.

When the figure straightened, Leonardo took a step back, his eyes wide.

It was Donnie. Or at least – that's who he thought it was. This version of his brother was cloaked in black from head to toe in an outfit not unlike the one Karai had worn – lightly armored with a black mask that reached up over his chin and settled just below a pair of spiteful red eyes. It left only a sliver of his face visible beneath a crop of black hair.

When he stood to his full height, towering above the shorter brothers by several inches, Leonardo realized he had a weapon strapped to his back. A gloved hand reached behind him and pulled the weapon free of its hold, and for a moment Leo panicked – Was Donnie really using a staff? How much more obvious could he be?

But when Donnie – Hisoka – approached, his fingers twirling the weapon in his hands with deft, disarmingly easy movements, Leo realized it wasn't a bo staff – it was something dark, sleek and metal, certainly long and narrow like a staff but much, much more than what Donnie had wielded before. Behind him, he heard the uneasy movements of Raphael and Mikey as they glanced at each other.

Before them, Donnie drew closer and then stopped, stooping into a low crouch with his weapon high behind him. Then, with a flick of his fingers – clink! - a metallic sound popped through the air and two large scythe-shaped blades jutted from either end of the staff, pointing in opposite directions and glinting dangerously. A modified naginata.

"Whoa," Mikey took a step back, his eyes wide.

Raphael's movements became more restless, but he found time to step forward and whisper to Leo. "Come on, it's still just Donnie. Let's just take him down and get it over with." Leo nodded vaguely, but he had a very, very bad feeling about this.

No sooner had he finished the movement than Donnie sprang, and the two blades disappeared into a whirl of flashes and colors. "Go!" Leo shouted, leaping forward and meeting the blows of the blade with his own. The other Footbots jumped into the action, blazing across the rooftop against Raphael and Mikey in a cluster of furious hits. Leonardo focused on Donnie, unrecognizable beneath his humanized features and heated glare. The scythe-shaped blades sliced through the air with startling speed, each other coming at Leonardo with increasing strength. Leo barely blocked a last swipe, the sight and memory of his brother slowing him. How could he fight this? How could he fight Donnie like this?

But Donnie wasn't holding back. Every blow came at Leo with the weight of a freight train behind it, and he didn't recognize any of the moves, any of the spins as Donnie leaped and spun out of the way of his attacks, which he pushed forward with more intensity as the battle continued on.

Leo sliced through the air near Donnie's shoulder with a yell, but the other quickly darted out of the way and caught the end of Leonardo's katana with one of his hooked blades. Leo caught a brief glimpse of his brother's eyes and saw a smirk there, something that startled him so deeply that he let Donnie pull all his weight on the hooked blade – and hurl him straight up into the air, where he crashed back down onto the rooftop with a pained grunt.

Raphael was at his side in a second, but he'd barely helped Leo to stand before Donnie was on them both, his long staff battering away at both of his brother's weapons with every lightning fast spin and twirl. Several Footbots joined in the fray now and took Leonardo's attention away.

Donnie paused just long enough to twirl his staff and pull it behind his back, his eyes alight with a strange fire as he settled his gaze on Raphael. The turtle in red growled and brandished his sai.

"Come on then, if you think you're so damn tough." He twirled the three-pronged blades threateningly. In response, Donnie moved his staff high and then, in one fluid movement, he tossed it up in the air and then snapped it in half. Raphael's eyes widened as he watched him deftly catch the two pieces, and now Donnie stood in front of him, hands turning the newly formed weapons in each hand. He crouched low and waited.

Raphael charged and the two met in the center of the roof, heated swings blasting into powerful strikes. One of Raphael's sai nearly caught Donnie's shoulder but his brother darted away in an unfamiliar movement. It seemed that every turn, every strike Donnie made was so unlike his regular forms that Raphael had no idea what to expect – whereas Donnie knew exactly what he was going to do.

One of Donatello's feet caught Raphael square in the chest and knocked him clear across the rooftop where he crashed into an old air conditioning unit. He jumped back up with a snarl, his muscles burning with fury. Leonardo appeared at his side. "You okay?" he asked breathlessly.

"I'm about to kick his ass -"

"Cool your head and keep focused," Leonardo started, but his voice dropped away when he spotted Donnie stepping around them with a dangerously attentive gaze, his head tilted like a predator watching prey. Leonardo's jaw clenched and he touched Raphael's arm to move him away, but it was too late.

With a loud yell, Donatello snapped his arm in a fierce throwing motion. Two shurikens cut through the air, whistling right at them. They both ducked, but – nothing. Raphael blinked.

"He missed," he whispered to Leo, but Leo only shook his head. His eyes darted around nervously.

"Donnie doesn't miss..."

"GET DOWN!" Raphael yanked them both down just in time for the pair of throwing stars to come whizzing by from behind, piercing the air where their heads had been and locking into the stilted legs of an old water tower that shared their rooftop. Raphael and Leonardo stared and then balked in unison The throwing stars were blinking. "Shit -"

The tiny weapons exploded with a massive boom and the groaning tower toppled, falling over with a distressed crash that tumbled on top of them with crushing force. Raphael shoved Leonardo out of the way but the speed of it sent the pair smashing into a pile of debris. They both rolled over the side of the roof with a stomach-turning drop.

"Leo!" Raphael snatched his brother's hand just as he grabbed a hold of a fire-escape, his sai dropping down to the concrete alley several floors below. When he looked back down at his brother in blue, he saw that he'd been hit by something. He was unconscious, dangling only by the wrist Raphael kept in a tight grip.

"Damn it!" Raphael struggled to readjust his grip but it was fading fast. If he could just get up to the roof and toss Leo over the edge -

"I got ya, bros!" Mikey's kusarigama chains cut through the air and wrapped around Raphael's arm just as his grip started to give. He and Leo dropped a few inches before he managed to snatch the chains, and he groaned with the effort of holding Leo's unconscious form below him. Mikey was several feet above them, both hands wrapped around the chains in an effort to pull them up. Then he gave a yelp and turned, locking the chains swiftly around one arm to keep them secure while he pulled out his chucks with his other hand. Raphael shouted up to his brother as he saw Footbots swarming near the rooftop edge, but as he watched, Mikey fought them off with one hand, his feet shuffling back to the edge of the roof precariously as he was beaten back by the sheer number of the bots.

The chain Mikey had wrapped around his arm was cutting into his skin with the weight of his two brothers dangling at the end and he was only getting more abuse from the other side. Still, even against the weight of his both Raph and Leo, Mikey fought and yelled back against the bots without dropping them.

Raphael cried out when he saw him take a brutal hit to the stomach and he yanked Leo up to his level, wrapping one arm around the other's shell and then pushing himself up with the wall with renewed strength. The gravity of his pull left bloody rings on Mikey's arm, but their youngest brother didn't let go, even as he was shoved to his knees by a Footbot. With a loud yell, Raphael hauled Leonardo's unconscious form over the edge and then hopped over Michelangelo with his blades already cutting viciously through the air.

Mikey collapsed behind him and Raphael sliced a path through the Footbots, no cut deep enough to satisfy his rage. Within seconds, each of the robots lay in pile of broken debris and broken fuses, popping wires their last calls for help as Raphael stood, heaving, his snarl settled firmly on the few figures left standing.

TigerClaw. Rahzar. Fishface.

And Donatello.

The two stared each other down for a long minute, each poised for another attack. Raphael could barely contain the flurry of blinding sensations that screamed at him for blood, for retribution, but his two injured brothers behind him stalled his thirst for vengeance.

With a snap of his arm, he tossed down a smoke-bomb.

The sewers were quiet as Donatello navigated them, his eyes taking much longer to adjust to the dark than he remembered. When he found the silhouette of their hidden door, he paused to welcome the familiarity of it.

Unfortunately, when he stepped inside his home, he found nothing of the warm comfort it had once brought.

In the living room, lying in various states of injury on the couch, sat his brothers. Leonardo was conscious once more, an icepack on his head. He was slack against the couch arm with a pained expression on his face. Raphael was cut up, but ignoring his wounds - as to be expected - in order to attend to Mikey, who was easily the most injured and beaten of them all. That wasn't entirely unusual, but the glaring red welps and cuts that covered his left arm were certainly new.

Donatello stepped inside and hurried to the couch. His brothers all looked and then balked at the sight of him. Leo and Mikey tried to be subtle about it, but Raphael was, as usual, not quite as so deft in his reactions.

"The hell are you doing here?" he hissed, standing away from Mikey and marching straight up to his bewildered brother.

Donnie glanced at the others, his eyes wide. "I live here," he stated, a bit annoyed. He tried to peer around Raphael. "Move, Raph. I need to help Mikey."

"You stay away from him! He's lookin' like that because of you!"

"Raphael," warned Leo from the couch, even as he struggled to sit up. "Lay off of him."

"What?" Raphael whirled on Leo. "You saw what he did back there!"

"We knew we would have to fight him eventually," Leo countered, his eyes cool. "We did what he had to. Shredder wouldn't have spent all that time and effort getting Rahzar to train him if he didn't plan on using him against us. Shredder still wants us dead, Raph. That hasn't changed."

"Maybe not," Raphael scowled in Donnie's direction. "But something sure as hell has."

Donnie stepped forward, his lips parted. "Guys, I wanted to warn you about the fight, but I didn't have time! They just sprung it on me, I didn't want..." he sighed, his shoulders dropping. "I didn't know what to do! I mean, come on... I didn't want you guys to get hurt."

"Oh, and you couldn't have taken a second to tell us about your fancy new weapon either, huh?" Raphael snapped.

Donnie grimaced. "I wanted your reactions to seem genuine, that's all." His eyes turned away from his two elder brothers and shifted to Mikey. He darted forward, not missing his little brother's whimper as he brushed his fingers against the arm.

"Oh, Mikey... I'm - I'm so sorry," Donnie quickly turned to the first-aid kit, his fingers darting over the supplies. Raph had been tending to him, but he wasn't great at wound care. Everything he'd done for Mikey so far was rough and rushed.

"It's okay," murmured his brother, even as he winced in pain. "You were just pretendin' for Shredder, that's all." His voice was small and it made Donatello's heart ache. His little brother was in pain and this was his fault - his plan, his efforts. All on him. Again. Always on him.

"Here, take this..." Donnie found the pain medicine and gave Mikey an appropriate dose, even as his other two brothers hovered nearby. Mikey smiled a little and it lifted Donnie's heart. At least one of his brothers still believed in him. Leo and Raph were still watching him, wearing matching gazes of suspicion that Leo's words couldn't completely dissuade or disguise.

"Guys," Donnie faced them. "I'm sorry you got hurt, okay? But don't you see?" He rose to his feet. "That was a test! They didn't say it, but I know it was. I couldn't fake it with you guys, TigerClaw and Rahzar would have seen right through it. But now... now they think I'm for real. They won't doubt me anymore, not after that."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't expect them to," Raphael folded his arms. "You nearly killed us, you psychopath."

"Oh come on," Donnie leaned against the couch, exasperated. "It wasn't that bad."

Raphael narrowed his eyes. An uncomfortable silence floated between them and then Donnie's eyes shifted, comprehension dawning on him. He stood once more and faced Raphael.

"You're just angry... because I beat you."

Green eyes widened and then sharpened into dangerous white slits. "You did not beat me."

"That's what you're pissed off about," Donnie straightened to his full height and glared down at Raphael. A delirious feeling of accomplishment bubbled in his chest. "You're not upset about getting hurt, you're angry because you thought I would go down easy. And I didn't."

"Shut your damn mouth, Donnie."

"I bested you for the first time ever," Donnie shook his head in amazement. "And that just kills you, doesn't it?"

"I SAID SHUT YOUR - "

"Stop!"

The heated argument closed with a snap. Leonardo stepped forward, his furious gaze on them both. "Both of you..." he said lowly. ".. need to stop talking. Right now." The other two brothers looked away, shoulders twitching with unbridled aggression. Still, they both kept silent as their brother looked between them.

"Raphael, go to the dojo and meditate."

"The hell -"

"Now."

Donatello thought Raphael's jaw would literally crack in two, he was fighting down his words with such heat and strength. When he stomped away, the slamming of the dojo door nearly took it off its hinges. Donnie felt a smirk threaten his lips, but Leonardo's face made it drop away.

"Donnie, tend to Mikey and then just - " he closed his eyes briefly, his fingers curled at his side as if he, too, were exercising the utmost in self-restraint. " .. just go. Go to your room or something." He looked away, his eyes narrow and unfocused. "I don't want to see you in the dojo or the living room. But do not leave the sewer."

Donnie's body and mind waged war, each fighting to rebel on either side of Leo's command. Ultimately, he did as he was told, helping Mikey wrap up his arm and then moving to his long-forgotten bedroom. As he settled on the edge of his disused bed, he scanned the room and fell into deep thought.