As nice as the warm water felt, it was doing very little to shift the stubborn stain of paint from Leonardo's skin and shell. He should have spent more effort cleaning it off yesterday, he thought regretfully. But, after everything that had happened, the exchange with Raphael and then the interrogation from Master Splinter, he'd just wiped off the worst before retreating to the sanctity and privacy of his room.
Now the paint had hardened, meaning it was less about gently washing it off and more about brutally scouring it away from where it was fixed to his body. Perched on the small wooden stool, Leo attacked his leg for the umpteenth time with the scrubbing brush in one hand and the shower head in the other. His skin felt raw, and it was still the wrong colour.
The bathroom had once been the public toilets for the now disused station. Several of the cubicles remained near the door, as did the sinks, but the far part of the room had been gutted of the fixtures to create a wash area. It had been one of Donatello's first forays into plumbing, and Leonardo could remember several floods his brother had caused as he learnt the necessary skills.
From initially diverting what had once been tap pipes to attach a spray head, the facilities had slowly been improved over time. The shower had been enhanced, with a longer pipe and easier controls. Although mismatched, the tiling was complete and channels in the floor allowed the wet area to drain into the grate. An industrial kettle in the corner, not dissimilar to the ones they'd seen at the paint factory, made the deep bathtub that Splinter relished. Once upon a time, it could have housed them all.
However, right now, the large metal vat just gave Leonardo a constant, looming reminder of the near disaster that had been the previous night. For the second time in a month, he had almost allowed Donatello to die.
The night Donnie had been injured, it had been Leo who attacked Tiger Claw. That decision had caused the shot to stray across the battle. If only he'd aimed his blow from the other side, or targeted the pistol itself, then the shot would never have struck the chain and caused the gantry to fall. Donatello would never have sustained his life changing injuries.
Then, even being fully aware of his brother's disabilities, Leo had still allowed him to come along on the mission. If it hadn't been for Raph… If Donnie had fallen…
A lump formed in Leonardo's throat, the invisible hand of guilt clenching tighter than ever. He could still hear Raphael's words, as clearly as if they were freshly spoken. The furious blame within them, that Donatello had been permitted to come so close to serious harm.
His brothers trusted his decisions. There were times he had to put them in danger, for the safety of the world. But last night was not one of those times. Last night they were looking for information, trying to find out what the Shredder was up to. There was no immediate danger to them or the people of the city.
He should have pulled the team out as soon as he realised they were not alone, Leo thought bitterly. It had been his choice. He was the leader, and he'd failed to lead them to safety. Instead, he'd almost led Donnie to his death. Well, he would not make that mistake again. In future, he would be sure to err on the side of caution.
Over the sound of the water, the turtle heard movement in the other half of the restroom. It wasn't Splinter, as the rustle of fabric and gentle steps made his father easy to identify. Of his brothers, there was one most likely candidate at this time in the morning.
"Mikey?" Leo guessed aloud.
A few footfalls later, and a familiar face peeked through the curtains that offered a modicum of privacy to the wash area. They'd only added those once April started to regularly visit, as the brothers had no requirement for them.
"N-no. You need s… something, Leo?" Donnie asked.
It wasn't who Leonardo was expecting, and he was astonished to even see his brother up and about already.
"Oh, Donnie!" he said in surprise. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
"I needed th-the b-b… bathroom," his brother explained, before tilting his head slightly as he contemplated for a second. "R-red isn't… isn't… your colour, Leo."
A frustrated scowl crept across Leo's face. "I know! I'm trying to get it off."
Donnie stared blankly for just long enough to make Leo feel bad for snapping. But rather than seeming upset or annoyed, his brother abruptly brightened. "I can help!" he said, as he turned away.
Leonardo heard the uneven footfalls of his brother favouring one leg as he headed out of the room. A minute or so later, the footsteps preceded Donatello reappearing with a bottle and a rag.
"Th-this'll get it off," he promised, setting the two items momentarily aside so he could remove his wraps before entering the wet area.
Dark bruises ringed Donnie's ankle, and Leo knew they would be a perfect match for where Raph's fingers had roughly caught him and then resolutely clung on, as their brother had suffered a seizure while hanging upside-down.
"Turn the w-water off for a m-minute," Donnie instructed, as he came over to kneel next to the stool.
Leonardo did as he was bidden, then turned back to find Donatello struggling to open the safety lid on the bottle he was holding. Quickly, he reached out to take it from his brother.
"Here, let me."
For a moment or two after opening it, Leonardo held on to the bottle and gazed at his brother expectantly as he awaited further instructions. But when none came, and instead Donatello reached out silently to take the container back, he reluctantly returned it.
Trying not to grimace, Leo watched as Donnie seemed to be trying to pour a small amount over the cloth, but ended up maladroitly sloshing it over his hand instead.
Worried that the unknown substance was dangerous, the leader quickly snatched up the shower head to wash it away. But before he could turn the water back on, his brother stopped him.
"It's fine." Donnie stated, as he reached out to rub at the paint on Leo's leg with the soaked rag. "It's just… just… uh… min-mineral spirits. It's… it's a paint th-thinning solvent. A little bit w-won't harm."
"B-but I wouldn't in-inhale the fumes f-for too long," he joked. "O-or pour too much d-down the drain. It's n-not great for the e-envir-envir…env… e-en…"
"Environment." Leo filled in, helpfully.
Donnie hesitated, then nodded in agreement. "The Clean W-Water Act, states that… that…" He trailed off, gazing at the rag in his hand with a slight frown.
After waiting a few seconds, Leonardo gently prompted, "Donnie?"
"Huh?" His brother looked up. "Oh… I was just… I th-thought…"
His brow furrowed further, then he shook his head with a sigh. "No, it's gone."
The paint seemed to be loosening as Donatello resumed wiping at it with the soaked rag in his off-hand. Where the skin was rubbed raw the mineral spirits stung, but it was nothing worse than a mild irritant.
"Are you still having problems with your right side?" Leo asked, as he watched.
Donatello nodded. "Yeah. I… The p-part of… of my brain that c-cont… controlled it has died."
Leonardo's eyes widened slightly at the statement, so casually delivered. "It…died?"
A small smile twitched at the corner of Donnie's mouth as his brother's face took on the familiar look of intellectual superiority, combined with the slightly condescending edge of someone who had to routinely deal with the ignorant.
"Th-that's what happens w-with a t-t-traumatic brain injury," he explained in his professor voice, sounding inexplicably calm about it. "Part of my br-brain has died and… and it's rewiring a-around the dead bit, wh-where it can. But… it's slow and… things are missing."
Not sure how to respond to such a statement, Leo gazed at his brother incredulously. How could Donnie be so relaxed about the fact that part of his brain was dead?
"Hey…" Leo eventually asked, his voice soft as he struggled to understand. "What does it feel like?"
Donnie paused for a moment as he considered how to respond. "Like… being in a-a comic book store. But… th-the boxes have been up-ended, a-and the issues are m-mixed up and sc-scattered ev-ev-ever-everywh-wh..."
"Everywhere."
Donatello's hand tightened slightly on the cloth. "I… I know what I w-want to say or do, a-and I feel like I s-still can. But I just… just can't seem to… to… The words and… J-jumbled."
Leonardo nodded sympathetically, wishing yet again that there was more he could do.
"It's… it's fr-frustrating. Really frust-frustrating. E-especially when… when I-I'm trying t-to say something, o-or trying to do s-something, but can't." Donatello conceded, pausing for a moment before continuing. "B-but I h-hate the se-se-seizures the most."
"E-everything else I c-can g-get used t-to, or find w-ways to get a-around the issue." He haltingly explained. "B-but the s-seizures are more dif-dif-diffi-i…"
"Difficult."
His brother's face fell into a frustrated scowl. "Yeah. I w-was thinking about how t-to stop them and I h-had some ideas, b-but…"
"Like what?" Leonardo asked, his curiosity pricking. Hope flickered within him. Despite the challenges, would Donatello be able to find a cure?
"I'm not sure," Donnie replied, with a heavy sigh. "Yet. There… there are me-medicines to control seizures. B-but they need to be t-taken regularly, or it could make it worse. And getting a r-regular… regular s-supply…"
Leonardo nodded slowly in agreement. "Yeah… Not going to be easy."
He had to protect him. He had to make sure to keep Donnie safe, to give him the time he needed to become adjusted to the dramatic changes that had been imposed upon him. Even brain damaged, there was still that sparkle of sharp intellect nestled within. Leo clung determinedly to the hope that somehow, his brother would find an answer.
As the conversation lapsed into silence, Donatello set the mineral spirits and the rag aside, and picked up the showerhead to rinse Leonardo's shell and legs. To the leader's relief, the smeary paint now washed readily away.
"When are we g-going back?" Donnie suddenly asked.
Although he already suspected he knew the answer, Leo asked anyway in the hope that he was wrong. "Back where?"
"To the future," Donatello retorted, sarcastically. "Chr-chromahome, Leo!"
"We're not," Leonardo replied, simply. "Shredder knows we know about it. He'll have abandoned it by now and we left such a mess, it'll be crawling with police. It's way too risky."
"So, do we have anoth… another lead?"
"No."
Setting down the showerhead, Donatello looked thoughtful for a moment as he retrieved the rag. "Well, l-let's check out some of the oth-other truck destinations," he suggested as he reached out to wipe at the final few streaks of paint.
Leonardo hesitated a moment before responding. "We will, but… Donnie, I want you to stay here."
Dismay crossed his brother's features. "Leo, I… I'm ok. I-I'm getting better. What ha-happened, it was j-just…"
"Donnie, you fell head first off the gantry!"
Leonardo's eyes begged with everything he could muster for Donatello to understand. The danger was just too great. He couldn't put him in harm's way, not until they'd found some way to protect him from his disability.
An uncertain frown crept into his brother's expression, mingled with exasperation as he tried to form words quick enough to keep up with the argument. "B-but I have-"
"Please," the leader begged, inadvertently cutting Donatello off again. "Just stay in the lair."
"Leo! L-Listen, I… I ca-can't—"
"You can!" Leonardo insisted, reaching to grip his brother's shoulders. "Once upon a time, that was what you wanted! You can help us from here, where you're safe. Until-"
He didn't get to finish, as Donnie's lips set in a line and he jerkily twisted away. Leo found the bottle and rag thrust into his hands, before his brother grabbed his possessions from the side and swept out of the bathroom.