Disclaimer: If I owned the ninja turtles, I would not be here writing fan fiction. I do not own the turtles or any associated characters or places. They are the property of Mirage Studios. I make no money from this and I mean no harm. Please do not sue.

Chapter 38

Donatello pushed away the ill feeling for now as he had been trained to do for years. The feeling always struck him after this sort of thing and he knew what he had to do to make it go away, but that simply was not an option right now. It was easier to push the feeling aside during a fight. The tough part was getting home and cleaned up. He swallowed hard as he moved through the sewers. Taking care of the feeling now would do no good as he still had not completely rid himself of the problem.

It was late, very late. His uncles probably did not yet know that he had even gone out. It had actually become something of a habit, at least on the nights that Uncle Raph stayed in. Going out when one of his uncles was also prowling the city was just inviting trouble. He had learned that long ago.

The metallic smell bit at his nose and Donnie swallowed once again, controlling his body for the time being. He was almost home, his punishment nearly over. Quickly punching the security code into the panel at the door to their home, Donnie silently re-entered the lair with the stealth borne of the ninja training he had received since his return to this world. Quiet by nature, he had always been pretty good at slipping by his uncles. He had yet to slip by his dad's radar, but since Leo wasn't home he believed he had little to worry about.

Donnie carefully and silently made his way to the bathroom on the lower level where his sleeping uncles were less likely to hear his movements. Safely locked in the room, Donnie removed the bloodied kama from his belt and forced down another wave of nausea. Next he removed the naginata from his back. Its blade was bloodied just like the kama. Bile rose in his throat and he nearly lost the battle to keep it in check.

What Donatello didn't know was that he was not as alone in being awake in the lair as he thought. Michelangelo watched unnoticed from the second floor as his nephew slipped in. From his vantage point, it was easy to see the blood coating the teen. Mike had hoped that as the weeks passed, whatever had caused this change in Donnie's behavior would sort itself out. His attempts to find out what was upsetting the young turtle had been met with flat out denial of a problem. The change in weapons and the late night excursions were powerful testament to the contrary.

Not only was it unlike Donnie to go out in the middle of the night like this, it was even more unlike him to come home covered in blood. At least it had been up until a few weeks ago. The young turtle had learned to deal with his nausea, but the sight of blood still made him ill. The fact that Donnie almost ran for the bathroom upon arriving home was a sure sign that had not changed.

Mike shook his head as he moved back into his room. Donnie was home safe, and that was what Mikey had been waiting up to be sure of. Confronting his nephew now would not help the situation. He couldn't shake the feeling that Donnie was punishing himself for something. The question was... What?

The young purple-masked turtle picked up a single kama and started to clean it as he had been taught to treat blades. Normally, he might do this in the dojo, but that was more open to the rest of the lair and the chances that his uncles would hear him moving around in there was greater. Donatello was thorough in his work despite the slight, occasional shiver that wracked his frame and the continued fight to keep his body's reaction to the vile, red liquid he was removing from his weapons in check. One kama cleansed, he moved onto the second. About half way through he had to pause and take a moment to breathe. He hated being covered in blood and he hated cleaning it off his weapons, but this was a punishment he had earned some time ago now. Once both kama had been cleansed, Donatello set them aside and turned his attention to the the naginata. After another moment spent breathing so he could get through the task before succumbing to his body's continued desire to purge itself of the contents of his stomach, Donnie began to cleanse that weapon as well.

When all three weapons had been cleaned, Donnie carted them up to his room and put them in their proper places. As he laid the naginata down on it's long rack, he glanced at the bo staff one space up on the wall. Today, for some reason, it caught his attention and he looked at it for a moment longer before the metallic sting of the blood that still clung to his skin reminded him that he had to finish cleaning up quickly.

The young turtle hurried back down to the bathroom where he took a hot shower and rid himself of the blood that coated his person. Some of it was his, most of it was not. A large bruise and gash on his thigh that had obviously been made by a chain would have to be hidden from his uncles for a couple of days, but that was no problem. It was still cold out and he often wore sweats around the lair. He was barely out of the shower and hadn't even wrapped a towel around himself when he threw up, finally giving in to his body's insistent cries now that it was safe to do so without the threat of cleaning up something else that would just bring the urge back.

Donnie pulled a towel around himself as he knelt on the floor in front of the toilet. He was shaking like a leaf, and not solely because he was cold. The shivering continued for a long time as the teen tried to calm his body again. Donnie tried to recall the last time he had eaten a full meal for dinner and managed to keep it down for the whole night without throwing it back up after an evening like this one. Uncle Raph had stayed in the lair lately and Donnie almost never gave up a chance to sneak out anymore. As the shaking slowed and came to a stop the teen realized that he still felt sick, but it was not the same as before. He was quick to stifle the coughing that wracked his body a moment later.

"Yeah, great. That's just great." Donnie muttered to himself as he pulled it together enough to stand up and head back up to his room. Sometimes he took the time after coming in to sharpen his blades, but this time that would have to wait until morning. He'd taken care of the blood problems, the remaining illness was something else. The teen growled to himself in frustration then silently slipped out of the bathroom and returned to his room for the night.

The next morning Donatello was in a poor mood. The fact that he could not stop coughing and shaking was not helping matters. Raphael had also sent him out of the dojo before training would normally end when he realized that Donnie's shaking was not from cold, but from illness and exhaustion. Though the teen had objected, Raphael had remained firm. A glaring match between the two resulted in Raph as the victor and Donnie storming out of the dojo to return to his room and his nice, warm bed. Which, though Raph had not stated it, was exactly where he wanted him.

"That kid is getting harder and harder to handle." Raph grouched once Donnie was gone.

"Yeah," Mikey agreed, "and he's been sneaking out at night."

Raph nodded in agreement. "He's started wearing more clothes and when he actually has them off there are too many bruises to be explained by sparring."

Mikey nodded in agreement.

"And as much as I like the kama..."

"Yeah, not really what I ever imagined him using either." Mikey concurred. "I hope Leo gets home soon. Maybe that will snap him out of it."

"We can hope, but I don't know if even Leo can fix this one."

Mikey sighed and looked toward Donnie's room before starting another sparring session with Raph.

Donnie hated this. He hated being sick, he hated that his uncles were upset and worried about him. He was fine. There was nothing wrong with him. So far, he had been unable to find a way to convey this to his uncles in a way that they understood. Or, maybe they just did not believe him. The second option did not seem that much better than the first in Donnie's mind. Either way, his uncles were worried about things they shouldn't be bothering with.

Now that he was lying down and resting, Donnie felt the shakes he had been experiencing slow and go away. Which was a great relief to him as the shaking was incredibly annoying. He picked up a book from the nightstand and looked at it for a moment. It was one that his father had given him for Christmas, just before leaving.

Donnie knew that he had told his father to go. He knew that this trip had been postponed year after year. While it was something that Leo had tried to hide from his son, when Donnie thought back on it, he realized that there had been signs of his dad wanting or needing this trip for years. Still, Donnie could not help but feel that he had been abandoned. It was unreasonable, he knew it, but that did not help him push the feeling aside.

With a frustrated growl, Donnie pulled a shuriken from his belt and threw it at the map on the opposite wall. The weapon embedded itself firmly in Japan.

"I hate that stupid country." Donnie muttered to himself. Though he knew his anger was displaced, that didn't seem to lessen it at all. Realizing that if he fell asleep he probably would not want his belt on, especially as there were six more shuriken where the one currently in Japan had come from, Donnie removed it and tossed it to the floor. Looking back at the map for a moment he shook his head. He just felt angry all the time now.

Donnie could easily remember when he wasn't angry. It was before his father had ditched him here while he went off gallivanting around the world. Anna never came around anymore either. Usually because she was always busy at school.

"Or so she says." Donnie grumped as he dug a little deeper and firmly entrenched himself in a nice little pity party from which he had no intention of removing himself anytime soon. Uncle Mikey would probably come in shortly and try to make him eat something, but Donnie did not feel like eating. Not that the desire not to do so had ever stopped anyone from forcing food on him.

"Stupid Don." Donnie muttered about his past life that he couldn't remember. "Why couldn't you just stay dead and in the spirit realm or whatever like a normal person? Why'd you have to keep coming back until they made you into a messed up thing like me?"

"Leonardo, My son..."

Deep in meditation, Leo easily recognized the contact for what it was.

"Master Splinter?" The blue-masked turtle was shocked. In all these years, Master Splinter had never once directly contacted him. Somehow, he suspected that whatever had brought his father here could not possibly be good.

"Yes, My Son," Splinter nodded, "I am here. I am proud of you, Leonardo. You have done well in your life so far. And you have found a good balance between your dedication to your art and your dedication to your family. I am also pleased to see you training under The Ancient One."

"Thank you, Master Splinter." Leo responded when Splinter paused. Even as he did so, he was waiting for the other shoe to fall. There was just something in Master Splinter's tone that tickled Leo's mind with a knowledge that something was wrong.

"You have learned much in your time here in Japan, My Son, but it is time for you to go."

"Master Splinter? What?"

"Your son needs you. Go, Leonardo. It is time for you to return to New York."

Leo nodded and bowed in his vision and when he glanced up from the bow, Splinter rose from his own and gave the blue-masked turtle that small assuring smile that said he was very pleased indeed. A smile that Leo had sorely missed over the years and was ecstatic to see once again despite the circumstances.

Surfacing from his meditative state, Leo rose from his tatami mat and stood. He glanced around one last time before heading out to find The Ancient One. It was time to excuse himself from his sensei's tutelage and move on.