Finally another chapter! Special thanks to Ravenshell for being my beta!

Chapter 34

We're starting to fall into rhythm, regaining some resemblance of normalcy, or as normal as you can with a brother recovering from mutagen radiation. Don hasn't turned back to normal, but he ain't mutatin' anymore either, so I guess that's a good thing.

Master Splinter and Leo make sure Don gets his treatments three times a day. I have to remind myself that the treatments are helping him, no matter how peaked he looks afterwards. Mikey's always in Don's face, blabbing about one thing or another. I'd rip my mask tails off if I had to listen to Motormouth Mike day in and day out, but Donnie doesn't seem to mind or if he does he doesn't say anything. Come to think of it, Don hasn't said much of anything since Mr. O'Neil and April left. Leo shuffles him from the den back to his room throughout the day, but he never says anything, just sits there eating, sleeping, taking his treatments like he's told. But at least he's getting better, right? All he's gotta do is chill and let the medicine do its job. He'll be his old self in no time, but something tells me his 'old self' may not be good for him right now.

Everyone has their role in Donnie's recovery; mine is to keep my distance and my mouth shut. I don't want him having any setbacks. Sensei said my words could either help or poison the people around me, and right now I don't trust myself to say the right thing around Don. It's best that I stay outta the way and let the others take care of him.

"Raph."

I grunt in response to Leo's voice. He places a tray of soup, crackers, and orange slices in front of me. Elbows on the kitchen table, I arch a brow over the turkey sandwich I'm getting ready to take a bite out of. "Why don't you take Donnie his lunch today."

"Something wrong with your hands?" I ask, looking him over before taking a bite of my sandwich. Leo's been taking Don his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. No need to break the routine.

"I'm sure he'd like to see you," he pesters me again.

"Don sees me every day."

"That's not what I mean and you know it." I sigh as Leo's lips thin out into a line of irritation. "He thinks you're angry with him."

I shrug off my brother's nagging. "You don't know what you're talking about, Fearless."

"You don't talk to him; you walk out of the room when he comes in; what else is he supposed to think?" Leo gripes, his voice bordering an argument. "You say you're not angry with him, then prove it: take Donatello his lunch." My face grimaces with annoyance at the order, my lips part ready to tell Leo where to shove his tall order, but his next words give me pause. "He needs you too, Raph." And with that manipulative play of words, he walks out the kitchen, leaving me with my thoughts and a tray of food.

Sewer apples.

Walking away from the kitchen, I try not to let Raph's attitude get to me, but it's hard. He hasn't lifted a finger to help us with Donatello. I wanted to tell him how selfish he's being and how much his absence is hurting Don. He needs to shape up and start acting like his brother for once, but I kept my premeditated lecture to myself.

I make my way to the dojo in hopes of calming my rising aggravation. With a huff, I concentrate on finding my center. Everybody has made an effort to make amends with Donatello, except Raph. Why is he being so stubborn? I have the mind to march back into kitchen and really lay into him. He has no idea how hard it is to look Donnie in the eyes and make up a lame excuse for why he is ignoring him. But as much as I want to give Raphael a piece of my mind, something stronger within my conscience tells me to wait. Exhaling slowly, I feel the tension melt from my shoulders. I need to trust my brothers... I need to trust Raphael; have faith that he'll do the right thing without having a shouting match with him.

Yesterday was hard. It was a blur of drowsiness, nausea, and apathy. Today is better. Tomorrow may be worse. Unfortunately, I can't blame it all on the drugs coursing through my body; with everything that's transpired, Sensei said this feeling, or rather lack of feeling, was to be expected. He told me talking would help, but I never feel like talking. However, it never keeps Leo or Mikey from forcing me to.

How are you feeling today, Donnie?

D, wanna watch Attack of the Killer Slug People?

Are you sure you don't want more to eat?

Dude, I could totally go for chocolate-stuffed crust pizza right about now.

Are you okay? ….You zoned out….are you having another anxiety attack?

How long do you have to be on that loopy medicine?

You've been in your room all day. Don't you want to sit in the den for a while?

Their constant attentiveness can be a bit… overwhelming at times, but I don't complain. I answer their questions and do what they ask. It's the least I can do for all the trouble I've caused them over the past couple of months.

Sighing, I look down at the genetics book in my lap. I've been staring at the same page for the last fifteen minutes. I've read this book hundreds of times but today none of it makes sense. Having seen evidence of the spiritual realm's existence with my own two eyes, how does it fit into my beloved world of science? I stroke the weathered page of my book. Is the key to stopping my mutation more spiritual than scientific, or a Frankenstein's monster combination of the two? Maybe today wasn't a better day after all.

I shift a bit in my bed to look at my alarm clock. It's 12:30. Leo usually brings my lunch faithfully at 12 o'clock. Not that it really matters; I never have much of an appetite anyway. Leo's tardiness is just another meaningless observation that my restless brain feels obligated to make. Other observations: There are 482 words on this page I'm still staring at; 172 visible bricks on the wall adjacent to my bed; 50 mutated scales and counting on my hand….

Sensei, Leo, and Mikey try to ignore me when I start idly counting or reorganizing things, pretending its perfectly normal, when I know its borderline OCD. Raph is the only one who doesn't pretend. He keeps his distance, which is probably the smartest thing to do, considering meditation is doing little to stop the scratching sensation against the mental wall in my mind. But I don't think Raph keeps his distance in fear; it's more out of anger for the disruption I've caused this family. I've managed to make amends with everyone except Raphael. I asked Leo about him, but he always makes up one excuse or another about our temperamental brother's whereabouts. I usually just nod accepting the lie, but knowing the truth…he hates me for not being strong enough to fix this, to deal with this.

A knock on my door startles me from my thoughts. "Come in," I mutter just loud enough to be heard.

Tray in hand, I clamp my mouth shut as I knock on the door. I can do this. Just go in, give 'im the food, and get out.

At the sound of his muffled voice, I shove open the door with my foot. I look at Don, and he stares back at me with huge owlish eyes. It's hard to tell if it's fear or shock on his face; both expressions I find annoying and make me even more eager to leave. He's propped up in his bed with some thick nerdy book in his lap. I'm pretty sure he's doing research or something since Sensei banned him from the lab. He should probably be resting. I shake the thought from my mind.

'Don't say anything, Raph, just give him the food and get out,' I tell myself as I make a beeline for his bed. Don stiffens as I approach him. Putting the tray on his nightstand, I take the book from his lap and let it drop to the floor. Don whines at the resounding thump of his precious book, but he doesn't argue, just stares at me. I ignore his startled stare and his gaping mouth as I place the tray on lap.

I blink.

I blink again.

Raphael is the last person I expected to come bouldering into my room. I wanted to see Raph, to make things right between us, but now my words are dried up and feel like sawdust on my tongue. Our eyes meet briefly and in that moment his piercing gaze is so cold, I involuntarily stiffen from the chill it causes. I jump a bit as he angrily snatches the book from my lap and drops it on the floor. I want to ask him what my book ever did to him, but his intimidating stance weakens my response to a small huff. It's only when he shoves the tray of food onto my lap that I realize he's brought my lunch.

"Where's Leo?" I ask quietly, not wanting to anger my brother any more than he already is.

His question squeezes something delicate in my chest. He wants Leo, not me. I don't much blame him. I ain't exactly won the brother of the year award. The feeling in my chest twists into something angry and familiar and I wanna tell him Fearless made me come in here, but I lock my lips together and breathe out slowly through my beak. No… no, that isn't what I need to say. So, I say nothing.

I look him over and manhandle him by the shoulders to adjust his pillow…. ya know, so he's sitting up better and crap. He grasps his tray tightly at my sudden movements. I try to ignore the way he stares at me like a kicked puppy. When I'm satisfied with his posture, I punch the pillows behind his shell and neck to shape them for support. I step back to get a better look at him and that's when I noticed his skin. He's changing colors again, fading into the beige color of his folded sheets rumpled around his legs. I ain't stupid; I can read between the lines. Even if he won't say it, his body is speaking loud and clear: He doesn't want me in here. I've given Don enough grief, no need to add to it. Turning on my heels, I make my retreat.

Instantly, I regret my question as a cloud of irritation brews in my brother's eyes. He sighs through his nostrils and then grabs me by the shoulders. I squeak out a protest, but it quickly dies on my lips as Raph grunts. With a bit of effort, he shifts my taller frame from slouching to upright and then proceeds to punch my pillows? ... He steps back as if analyzing his handiwork. Was he trying to make me comfortable?...

Then he stares at me, at my abomination of an arm. His judgmental eyes make me second guess what I thought was a kind gesture. Now, I just want to disappear. I look down in an attempt to avoid his critical gaze; that's when I notice my skin is practically the same color as my bed sheets. Ugh! I hate this stupid mutation. My head snaps up at the sound of shuffling. Raph already has his hand on the doorknob.

"Raph, wait!" He pauses. I pause, too. Why didn't I just let him go? He's made it quite clear he doesn't want to be anywhere near his pathetic freak of a little brother. When I push down the mixed emotions, I wince at the pain in my head. The wall. I forgot; I can't hide there anymore. I want to make things right between me and Raph, but I'm not ready for the confrontation that's sure to follow. However, I don't really have a choice unless I want this mental wall to start cracking. Exhaling deeply, I look at my brother.

"Raph, wait!" The awkward urgency in his voice makes my hand clutch the doorknob, my body frozen in place by my brother's voice. "I know you're still angry with me…. You've been avoiding me since we came back from the spiritual plane…."

I don't want to do this now. If I say something I'm screwed; if I walk out I'm screwed and look like the world's biggest jerk. So, I keep my eyes focused on the floor, mentally begging for Donnie to just let this go.

"Everything that happened there was so surreal and… awkward. I know you didn't want to be there and I'm sorry for putting you through that." There's an lumbering pause. "….I'm also sorry for decking you."

"Don…" My tone is testy, but it's all I can muster as my chest tightens with tempered emotions I know I should keep to myself. Why won't he just drop this and eat his stupid soup?

"The mutagen radiation had me completely out of control. I'm sorry, I—"

"Oh my god… seriously, Don? Seriously?! Are you trying to tick me off?" I can't hold back any longer. Clutching the doorknob, I open and slam the door shut, but the gesture does little to keep me from wanting to jack my brother up by his shell.

"No… no, of course not! I just thought…."

"You just thought what, Don? ...That hot-headed Raphael came in here to make you feel worse than you already do?" I gesture with my hands to restrain the urge to whack my idiot brother in the head. "What kind of selfish prick do you think I am?" I watch his mouth gap open and closed like a fish. He's probably searching that big brain of his for words to say, but I don't give him the chance. "Look, I don't need your apologies. Matter of fact, why don't I do you a favor and get the shell outta here."

I braced myself for the Raph-like explosion, but instead of him telling me what a sissy I'm being, he completely turns the tables as if I'm the bad guy, as if I somehow hurt his feelings. My skin flushes with wave of warmth and a burst of anger I didn't know was there erupts from me.

"What do you want from me?! I've mentally gone through every possible reason for you to be ticked off with me and I don't know what else to do!" Frustration splutters pass my lips. "Just… just tell me what you want. Tell me how to fix this!" My normal fist slams against the tray in my lap causing the soup to wobble and drip over the side of the bowl.

"What the shell are you talking about?" I try to keep the annoyance blazing in my chest under control but he ain't making it easy. His skin starts doing a pretty close impression of my signature mask color. Okay, I guess that means he's pissed, but what the shell did I do this time?

"You're angry with me!"

"Hey, I'm not the one red as lava in here." I jut my chin out at his crimson skin. "Furthermore, did I say I was angry with you?" I challenge his accusation.

"No… but—"

"Then stop puttin' words in my mouth, Brainiac."

"Well, if you actually made sense, I wouldn't have to."

I clamp my mouth shut but not before a growl escapes. My teeth grind as I remember Sensei's words. Words can be poison... words can be poison... words can be poison. With that mantra keeping my stewing words at bay, I breathe out deeply before looking at Don again. He hasn't said more than three sentences in two weeks, but apparently he's just full of insightfulness today.

"Your words never match your actions. One minute you're telling me how pathetic I am and the next you're manhandling my pillows in what I can only assume is supposed to be a comforting gesture?... How exactly am I supposed to take that?" I shrug with disgusted annoyance. "There are only two logical interpretations I can develop from your erratic behavior. Either, one: you're bipolar, or two: you're... you're just doing this out of sibling obligation. Seriously, what other possible explanation could there be? And at the moment, I'm really leaning toward sibling obligation."

"Sibling obligation?" His eye ridges raise in surprise at the terminology.

"Yes, caring for a sibling due to family expectations, typically observed with older disgruntled siblings." Suddenly the pressure in my head becomes too much to try to gracefully articulate my feelings, and words spill from me like a dangerous whirlwind. "Let's just cut the BS, Raph. You've always hated me, since we were kids. I was never cool enough, strong enough, tough enough for you. You always accepted Leo and Mikey, but never me. I'm just your nerdy, pathetic, weakling of a—"

"Shuddup." My head buzzes as I grind my teeth. Tunnel vision is kicking in as I take outraged steps toward my brother's bedside. His red-hued skin doesn't change, but he still visibly shrinks back into his fluffed pillows. At this point, I don't really care if he turns plaid or polka-dotted. No one questions my loyalty to my brothers, not even my idiot brother. "Anything I do for my brothers—for you—ain't out of no stupid sibling obligation," I spit his psychobabble words back at him as I point at his plastron. "I don't do stuff for you because its expected of me, I do it because you're my brother! Don't you dare call what I do for you obligation…. If I hated you, would I have gone in that egg head of yours and fought that creepy tentacle demon-thing? ...Huh? ...would I?! ….Shell, I cleaned up a freakin' murder scene for yo—" I choke as the sharp fury of my words found their target like poisonous darts penetrating something deep in my younger brother. His eyes gloss over as his hands tremble, gripping the sides of the tray. Hurt and confusion swim in Don's eyes as his red skin melts into a greyish hue.

And the truth finally comes out. I can always count on Raphael to bluntly say what everybody else is too afraid to utter. Suddenly, this argument doesn't even matter anymore. I should have just let Raph bolt out of my room like he intended to do. Yes, Raph is impulsive, ill-tempered, and can be extremely crude, but he's also brutally honest. I'm a murderer. A monster. He had the right idea keeping his distance, watching me with a form of detachment. I look away from my brother's mortified expression. There's no reason for him to be upset. He's been right about me from day one. Painfully, I swallow the lump in my throat. Stiffening my muscles, I try to control the tremors wracking my body, but my efforts are fruitless. Pathetic is what I am.

God, I'm such an freakin' idiot. My anger is short-lived and regrettable as I struggle for words to undo the damage I've just inflicted. "Don… I shouldn'ta… I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Raph. I get it... I get why you don't want to be around me. Maybe I'm not an obligation to you, but I'm still a burden… a liability… to this family. I always have been. I get it." His gaze is focused on his mutated arm, refusing to even look at me. The emotions swimming in the room are suffocating I want to escape just so I can breathe, but I don't. Not when I've made such a mess of things. I've just kicked the fight outta my little brother; he's already turning in on himself.

"No, you don't get it, Don. That's not the reason I haven't been around. That's not it at all. You're not a liability, or burden. You're my brother... simple as that. "

"Then why... why haven't you been around?"

"Because I'm an idiot." I rub my hand down my face. Honest words that were once constrained by sarcasm or wrapped in snide remarks make their way to my lips, and for once I don't stop them.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Don. I—"

"You don't have to—"

"Just shut up a minute, this is hard enough to get out without you interrupting."

Okay, so this sensitivity thing is a work in progress, I'm trying here. I take a deep breath and take another shot at it.

"I'm sorry for treating you like crap, Don. I thought I was helping, ya know. I was trying to toughen you up. I didn't know all this was happenin' to you. If I'd known I would—"

"You would have still treated me like crap." There's resentment and dejection rooted in his words that I'm thankful to hear. It means he ain't through fighting, not yet anyway.

"I… I ain't so great with kid gloves." The bite is gone from my voice and replaced with something softer.

"And I'm not so great at reading people's emotions, especially when they only have two settings: angry and moderately angry," he fires back without missing a beat.

"Okay, okay. Fair enough." I hold up my hands owning up to my screw-ups as I take a seat on the side of his bed. All I can do is swallow my excuses because he's not wrong. "I get that now. Just hear me out, okay?" He looks at me expectantly. "You and Mikey are my little brothers. I'm supposed to look out for you guys. Mike's always been easier to toughen up; he always bounces back, but you... You just completely bury yourself in whatever demons you got bottled up in there." I point to his plastron. "And that kind of stuff'll tear a guy down." I hear the wheels turning in that big head of his as he pensively looks at the bowl of soup in front of him. "I thought if I pushed you hard enough you'd blow off that steam and just let it all out."

"Like you?"

"Yeah… yeah, I guess so. But you ain't like me. Never have been. You're different from us, Don, and that scares me." I exhale at my admission. "Look, do whatever you need to do... geek out, meditate, punch me in the freakin' face, but don't keep that crap bottled up, okay? Don't wanna lose you to your own demons, bro." He finally looks up at me and I hope he can see my honesty. "You, me, Leo, and Mikey are the poster kids for the school of hard knocks; you know this life ain't easy... I just want you to fight back, Don.

"I do fight back; I fight hard, Raph. Maybe I don't take out as many Foot soldiers as you do, but I—"

"That ain't the kind of fighting I'm talking about, Brainaic, and you know it. Every day, you fight with that big brain of yours to doctor us up and keep us safe, but when it comes to fighting for yourself, you completely cave in. Start fighting for yourself for a change."

"...I'm trying."

"No, you're not. You're walking around here like a zombie, like you're already dead!" I throw his recent downtrodden attitude in his face because he obviously can't see how much it hurts us... how much it hurts me.

"Raph, the probability of this treatment being successful isn't—"

"Stop it. You know if the tables were turned, you would fight tooth and nail for us. It's time you do the same for yourself."

He can't deny my blunt words any more than I can ignore his sudden stillness. I know my pep talk hit him hard, but I'm not finished yet.

"And Don? ...I don't hate ya." Reaching out to my little brother, I give his non-mutated shoulder a squeeze before resting my hand on the back of his neck. "I don't understand half the stuff you nerd-out about or how you can be so socially inept but I don't hate ya."

His head bows and for a minute, I think I've screwed up again until a wet chortle bubbles from some healing part of him.

"Socially inept? ...Isn't that the kettle calling the pot black?" The gentle humor of my brother's eyes meet mine, and I clear my throat of its own wetness as I laugh.

"I'm anti-social, not socially inept. There's a difference," he snorts at my comeback as I release his neck from my sentimental hold. When I look at my brother's eyes, I catch a glimpse of something I hadn't noticed before. "Ya know, I've been lookin' at you wrong all this time, little brother."

He raises his brows in question and I try to explain.

"You remember that story Sensei told us when we were kids about the palm tree?"

"Sure, it was about the endurance of a palm tree. Did you know the world's tallest palm trees are located in central Columbia? They grow up 60 meters tall and—"

"For the love of..." My eyes roll on their own accord. "You're missing the point, genius."

With an immodest quirk of his brow that I haven't seen in months, he stares at me the way he stares at everybody when he thinks he's right about something. "Well, that was obviously what the story was about. How could it not—"

"Don, I'm trying to have a moment here, so could you shut your mouth and at least act impressionable?" He at least has the decency to look contrite as he allows me to finish. "In that story, this huge wind came and blew day and night beating the bark off this palm tree. The wind blew so hard it bent tree to the ground, but when the wind stopped, the palm tree would straighten up again. No matter how many times the wind blew, the palm tree would straighten up and stand taller than before. The wind didn't get it… couldn't understand how something so puny could stand against it."

"So you're saying I'm a puny palm tree." I sigh at Don's deadpanned expression.

"No, the palm tree just looked puny, it was really strong as shell." I pound my fist for emphasis. "Guess what I'm tryin' to say is you're stronger than you look, bro."

There's an uncomfortable silence and for a moment I have no idea if my sentiment is even accepted by my brother, but then he looks up at me with glossy eyes. "Thanks, Raph."

"Okay, could you not... do... that?" My finger gestures to his sniffling because now my eyes are getting misty. "So, we good?"

"Yeah," he says with a nod.

"Well, I've met my quota of chick-flick moments for the next year." I smirk when I manage to get a good-natured eye roll out of him. "You're soup's cold, wanna sit in the kitchen while I heat it up?" There's warmness in the room that's both comforting and overbearing. "I think a change of scenery will be good for both of us. "

"Yeah, sure." Taking his tray in one hand, I give Don a tug to his feet with the other.

As we leave his room, Leo's a few feet away staring at us wide-eyed and dumbfounded before giving me his trademark smile of cockiness.

"What?" I demand when his stare becomes annoying.

"Nothing." He continues to stare.

"Then wipe that stupid smirk off your face. Sheesh, don't you have some meditation to do or something?"

"Whatever you say, Raphael," Leo snorts smugly before walking to his room. Looking over my shoulder, to make sure Leo doesn't see, I smile to myself.

Maybe I'll take Don his lunch more often.

TBC

A/N: Thank you all for your patience. I know many of you were concerned about this story being abandoned and I just wanted to confirm that I am still typing away at upcoming chapters. RL has been chaotic...a little good, a little bad, but hey that's life, right? As long as I'm not six feet under than I really have nothing to complain about ;)

Thank you guys again for all your support and encouragement. I see your reviews and they are a constant reminder of one of the reason I love writing, even when RL prevents me from writing as much as I'd like to.

As always, please review! See you next chapter!