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Donatello tapped away at the control panel of the Shellraiser, his expression grim. On the screen in front of him, five colored dots were progressing through a complex map in black and white, representing the city's sewers.

He took a look at his father, who was driving in silence. He wondered if he should try to tell him something - but he had apologized so many times he had lost count. Not that everybody didn't keep telling him that it wasn't his fault; he just felt compelled to.

And now he was hiding behind the scenes while his brothers, April and Casey hunted Irma down in the sewers. He knew it was the sensible thing to do - this way, he wouldn't faint from exhaustion at the worst possible time - but he still felt sidelined.

However, they couldn't afford to wait any longer. If the vial held no appeal anymore for Donatello, it had become clear that the damage it had done was not so easily reversible.

If reversible at all.

Donatello's mind wandered back to the day when he had finally accepted that truth, and told his family.

He remembered the anguish on their faces, right before they controlled their facial expressions again. Yes, anguish - but also a lack of surprise, as if they had feared it all along.

It was three days after Donatello had been deemed independent from the vial's content. It was a relief for everyone not to have to watch him constantly. Donatello knew he had been a very difficult patient. Splinter was the only one he hadn't tried to get around, and his father couldn't be on watching duty 24/7. Especially not as he was still recovering.

But his family had managed to keep him from doing anything stupid, and after twenty-four escape attempts, including twelve failed tries at destroying the apartment walls, they had finally declared victory.

Now that Donatello's mind was free to focus on other matters again - namely, what the vial had done to his body - he had talked to Dr. Rockwell for hours, asking him to conduct a few more experiments and sharing assumptions and deductions.

The results weren't encouraging. Whichever way they looked at it, it seemed that there was no way to reverse any effects the vial had on living organisms.

When Donatello had confided in his father, Splinter had tried to use the Healing Hands on him - to no avail. Whatever substance was damaging Donatello's body from the inside wasn't recognized by his organism as a foreign body, and therefore couldn't be expelled like the poison it was.

Donatello had buried his rising panic deep inside and told his family and friends that he wished to talk to them. They had gathered in his room within minutes, even Raphael and Casey who hadn't been inside the apartment.

"I won't get any better," Donatello had explained, his voice steady. His hands would have been shaking if he hadn't pressed them together so tight. "And I'll probably get worse. There is something in the vial that reacts with muscle mass and slowly destroys it."

He hadn't given them any more details, like the fact that sooner or later it would make breathing impossible.

"Are you sure?" Leonardo had asked anxiously.

"We're sure. If there are components which can cancel this, they're not from our world."

"Then we find Irma and make her talk," Raphael had said, fists clenching so hard that his joints had whitened.

"And if we can't make her?"

Michelangelo's face had been heartbreaking to watch. Donatello would have loved to tell him that everything would be okay - but he couldn't find it in his heart to lie to him.

"That vial comes from somewhere. We find that place and search it until we have our answers," Leonardo had replied.

No one had asked about what would happen if they didn't.

Donatello leaned back on his seat and pressed one button to talk to the able-bodied team, the one who took action.

"Go right at the next intersection," he instructed, trying to keep his frustration to himself.

"Thanks, Donnie."

Leonardo's soft voice didn't give any hint that something was amiss. It might have been an ordinary mission, with Donatello running an errand of some kind before meeting the others. It wasn't even the first time that one of them was running out of time. He remembered when Michelangelo, in a move that only his brother had refused to call stupid, had applied a product containing mutagen on his skin. Or when Raphael had been poisoned, and Donatello had created a cure for him on the battlefield.

They had made it through, every single time. He had to trust the formidable team they made together.

Donatello rubbed his eyes, tired, and coughed discreetly to avoid worrying his father even more.

April was sitting on her bed, legs against her chest, holding a picture frame. Donatello sat down next to her.

The woman on the picture was beautiful. She was smiling with determination at the photographer, in a way very similar to April's, and held a baby in her arms.

"It's your mom?" Donatello asked, feeling rather stupid. He recognized that woman; she looked exactly like the Kraang-creature who had tried to kill him and his brothers in Northampton.

April nodded. "It's hard, you know. Not knowing what happened to her. How she died."

Donatello felt at a loss for words. He didn't know how to comfort a teenage girl whose mother had been abducted by aliens when she was only six. Besides, he felt unqualified to talk about mothers - he only had a father, after all. He put an awkward arm around April's shoulders, half-expecting her to shrug it off.

She didn't. When she looked back at him, her gaze was fierce.

"The Kraang took my mother away from me. I won't let them do the same to you. We'll find a cure for you, Donnie. Promise me you'll hold on until then."

"Promise," Donatello whispered, although he knew it wasn't something he had the power to decide.

For her, he would fight Fate itself.

"Donnie, we're arriving within sight of the pumping station."

Leonardo's words snapped Donatello out of his memories. He shook himself. It was no time for daydreaming; he had a job to do, as frustrating as it was.

He switched the infrared camera on. On the screen, a sewer tunnel appeared. From the shapes walking inside it, he could deduce that April was the one carrying the camera.

Donatello waited in anticipation as they turned around the corner to reach what had to be Irma's lair.

Finding where to go hadn't been very difficult. Donatello had activated the Kraang Tech Detector amplified by its new satellite dish, and found an area where Irma was likely to hide. On an old map of the sewers, he had determined three possible locations for a hidden lair. They had already checked the first two.

The pumping station came into view. The infrared camera only showed differences in temperature; he couldn't use a normal one because they weren't using any lights to avoid being detected.

Donatello knew there were probably sensors around Irma's hideout, if he hadn't been mistaken in his calculations and the pumping station truly was her hideout. He was certain Leonardo was aware of it too. Once again, Donatello wished he was there with them - he could have looked for alarms, deactivated traps…

Granted, he had caused a blackout so any alarm or trap would have to be triggered by a different energy source. It wasn't going to make things better for the city's electrical network, especially in its current state - the damage caused by the magnetic storm hadn't been repaired everywhere, far from it - but Donatello couldn't have cared less.

Things being as they were, he had done everything he could and his brothers, April and Casey were on their own.

On the image transmitted by the camera, all Donatello could see were the warm shapes of his family in red and the cold mass of water below in deep blue. No Irma in sight.

"So you came."

Donatello's heart skipped a beat. The image moved frenetically to show the whole pumping station - April must have been moving around - but the owner of that voice remained invisible.

"Show yourself, coward!" Raphael shouted.

From the sound of his voice, Donatello had no doubt that he was on the verge of losing his cool. He winced.

Irma didn't answer him. "Where is your brother?" she said instead, her voice full of malice.

Raphael breathed hard. Slowly, threateningly. Donatello could picture him finding his center, waiting for a good opportunity to unleash his fury.

"He's made impressive progress," Splinter whispered in his ear.

Donatello almost started. Caught up in the scene on the screen, he hadn't realized that his father had parked the Shellraiser and left the driver's seat. He quickly muted the microphone on their side so everybody - potentially including Irma - didn't hear this conversation.

Splinter put a hand on Donatello's shoulder, his eyes still on the screen. "But I shouldn't be surprised. You've all become very powerful fighters."

"Right now, I can't really fight, Sensei," Donatello objected sadly. He could move efficiently enough, but he was much slower than usual, making him an easy target for any trained enemy.

"You are, though, Donatello. Against a very insidious enemy."

Before Donatello could ask him what this enemy was - he had a feeling it would be something like 'despair' or 'fear', his father was fond of such convoluted words of comfort - the screen in front of them went black.

"Guys!" Donatello called in the microphone. "Guys?"

Nobody answered.

Splinter frowned. With difficult steps, he went back to the front of the Shellraiser.

"Now we have to wait and trust your brothers to come back to us safely. This is one of the hardest duties of… Donatello?"

The rest of his father's sentence was lost to Donatello as he exited the truck by the opening in its roof, his weakened muscles protesting against the effort.

"Don't worry, Sensei, I'll only come close enough to get the transmission working again," he shouted. "I'll be right back!"