Donatello awoke to the sound of his own screaming, several hours after returning to his quarters. He'd been shocked awake by a nightmare about a small army of Bishop clones ripping their way out of his guts. Trembling in panic, he lifted the blankets to check that his plastron was still flat, which of course it was. That same voice of denial and disbelief was still running through his head.
Don knew that he had to shake it off. He told himself that he could do it. He had to do it, as he wasn't being given any choice in the matter. Donatello was capable of doing pretty much anything, and as much as he didn't like to brag, he was more than aware that despite the many obstacles that life had thrown at him, nothing had ruined him yet. So, he did one of the things that he did best - he started putting together a plan.
First item on the list was calming the hell down. He'd only been here for about a month. If Bishop's calculations were to be believed, it would be another seven or eight months until the babies were ready to be born. There was plenty of time to get things figured out. Panicking about his situation and doing something careless out of fear wasn't going to help him.
Don hadn't eaten since the 'incident' at yesterday's lunch, and he was starving and nauseous. He sat down with a box of saltines to think. Bishop had explained all about how the embryos had been created, and Don didn't have any reason to think that he was lying. Bishop could be a monster at times, but he had been blunt and straightforward yesterday.
As much as Donatello was horrified by what had been done to him, and as unprepared as he was for what lay ahead, he had to keep in mind that his wasn't the only innocent life being affected by all this. His natural inclination was to feel violated, and to think of the embryos as unwanted parasites. He told himself that he had to stop that line of thinking before it even began. The budding lives that he carried within him were created from his own genetic material and that of his brothers. That made them family. That meant that he had to protect them.
Strange as all of this was, the idea of having children was actually rather nice. Don had never dared hope for a family of his own, but it was more because it seemed impossible than because he didn't want it. Of course, he was young, and he never would have chosen this particular pathway to fatherhood, but this was the hand that fate had apparently dealt him. If he was destined to be a father, he would do everything that he could for his children.
He put a hand thoughtfully on his plastron. "Okay, well, I guess I'm not alone in all this," he said out loud. That was kind of a nice thought, and it actually made him feel a little bit better. He had been very lonely. If he was being honest with himself, that loneliness began even prior to his kidnapping. He had been lonely ever since his father died.
If there was one thing that Donatello was sure of, it was that he didn't want to stay at Area 51 anymore. He hadn't tried to escape yet, because he foolishly believed Bishop that the project he was working on was important. Maybe it really was, he had no way of knowing. However, it was clear that if Bishop went to these lengths to secretly impregnate him immediately upon his arrival, that must have been his true plan from the start. Anything that had happened since then was likely just diversion and subterfuge. Clearly, Bishop wanted to keep the babies for himself. He wouldn't let them go willingly, and given how manipulative and emotionless Bishop was, Don knew that a child could never have any sort of life here.
So Donatello had to get out while he still could. Sneaking himself and three babies out of Area 51 would be exceedingly difficult, so it was best to get going before they were born. Given the physical toll that this pregnancy was already taking on him, it was safe to assume that the longer he waited, the harder the escape would be. So, he needed to begin planning now. Fortunately, Don had already gotten a jump on this. Bishop had been careless enough to involve him in a project that required coding. Everything that he did was double checked, to ensure that there were no signs of sabotage. However, Donatello was smarter than just about anyone. As he had reassured himself earlier, there was time. One way or another, he was going to escape.
Don stayed in his quarters all day, thinking and planning. All the stress had given him another migraine, and he was curled up on the sofa when there was a knock on the door. The knock had only been ceremonious, as Bishop strode in immediately afterward. Don hissed at the light pouring into the darkened room and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
"Donatello," Bishop greeted in a too-loud voice.
"Go 'way," Don responded, curling up tighter.
"You're slurring," Bishop observed. "Do you have another migraine?"
In response, Don opened one eye halfway and did his best to glare. He knew that Bishop didn't care at all about how much he was suffering.
"It's probably because you haven't eaten since yesterday," Bishop guessed. Don would have pointed out the nearby, half-eaten box of crackers, but he didn't have the energy.
"I'm afraid that I can't offer you any painkillers," Bishop continued. "We aren't sure how that would affect your offspring. But, I think that you would feel better if you perked up and had a bit to eat."
It was clearly the advice of someone who had never experienced a true migraine. Don stubbornly stayed put and did not acknowledge anything that Bishop had said.
"Come on," Bishop growled. "We need to get your daily hormone dosage into you, and you can't skip your phone call with your brother's two days in a row. They'll get suspicious."
"S'picous?" Donatello slurred. "They're already s'picious. I'm the only one dumb enough to trust you."
Somewhere deep in his cold heart, Bishop was rather touched at that. He'd never admit it to anyone of course. "You're not dumb," Bishop argued. "We both know that. You just look for the best in people. It's not so much dumb as… naive."
Don made an indiscernible noise, somewhere between a growl and a moan. It was heartbroken and pathetic, but also mildly threatening; something that a deeply wounded but still fearsome wild animal might make. Bishop had never heard anything quite like it before.
"You need to take the hormones or you could lose the babies. If you refuse to take them, I'll be forced to restrain you and inject them," Bishop explained. "So what'll it be?"
Don uncoiled a trembling arm, which had been tightly wrapped around his middle. He reached out towards Bishop. "Give'em to me."
"You need to sit up. They're dissolved in this cup of coffee."
Don groaned and sat up as slowly as he could. The movement made him dizzy and terribly nauseous. Once he was fairly confident that he wasn't going to puke, he reached for the cup.
"Don't worry, it's decaf," Bishop promised. "And you only need to keep it down for ten minutes or so for the hormones to fully absorb."
Don winced, but he was actually happy to hear all of that. Being tricked into drinking decaf for a month was a real kick in the teeth, but at least he was being told the truth now.
Bishop sat on the coffee table in silence for a few minutes while Donatello drank. The turtle's eyes were still squeezed shut, and he was trembling all over. "You need to eat something," Bishop advised. "You can't skip meals in your condition."
"Not gonna keep it down anyway," Don muttered.
"Doesn't matter," Bishop replied. "You just need to get it into you. Otherwise, I'll have to tube feed you."
"It's not like I'm vomiting on purpose," Don hissed. "I'm sick as hell."
"I know, and I'm sorry about that. Hopefully, you will feel better as your body begins to adjust."
Don huffed. But, he was secretly a little impressed that Bishop had actually apologized.
"Is there any food that you think your stomach could handle? Just say the word and I'll ask the kitchen to prepare it and send it up," Bishop offered.
"Crackers are fine," Don mumbled. He'd been reading up on the best foods to eat for morning sickness. Crackers and pretzels were high on the list, and the apartment kitchen was already stocked with them.
Bishop got up and brought the half-eaten box of saltines over to Donatello. "Eat some then. You need to recover enough to call your brothers."
Don cringed, but he ate a cracker. He hoped that getting some food into his stomach would at least help with the nausea and shakiness.
Donatello finished his cup of hormone-laden coffee and set it down. He nibbled on a few more crackers.
"Can I take this to mean that you don't wish them any harm?" Bishop asked after a while.
"Hmm?" Donatello hummed. Some of his brain fog was lifting, but he still didn't understand Bishop's inquiry.
"You're taking the hormones and eating properly. Shall I take that to mean that you won't try to harm the embryos while they are in your care?" Bishop clarified.
Don looked Bishop in the eyes. "I would never willfully harm them," Don said as firmly as possible. He truly did mean it, and he wanted Bishop to know that. However this had happened, and as weird as this all was, these tiny, helpless, and innocent lives had been entrusted to him, and Don had already sworn to himself that he would protect them at all costs - even from their creator.
"Would you?" Don asked, pointedly.
"Would I what?" Bishop stammered.
"Would you harm them?" Don asked, speaking slowly so as not to slur. "What are your plans for them?"
"I wouldn't harm them," Bishop balked. "Why would I create them only to harm them?"
"I dunno. Dunno why you do anything. Don't want to know why. Just want an answer."
"Well, I told you the answer is no. They're very valuable to me. And, to answer the other part of your question, my plans for them are largely dependent upon the decisions that you make."
"How?" Don asked, unable to speak any more.
"Our goals are the same, really," Bishop mused. "Protection of this planet. You can raise and parent them as you see fit, as long as I approve the overall regimen, and they are available if they are ever needed for a greater purpose."
Don was shocked at that. "So I r'lly am free to go?"
Bishop chuckled obnoxiously. "No. But if it's any comfort, you were never free. That's the only thing that I've outright lied to you about. I'm surprised that you believed me to begin with."
Don furrowed his brow. "Well, you said it yourself; I'm naive."
"Yes," Bishop agreed, much to Don's disdain. "And it was naive of you to ever have any illusion of freedom in the first place. You've never been free, Donatello. You lived your life trapped in the sewers. That's about the most unpleasant prison imaginable if you ask me."
"It was a home," Don insisted.
"And, this could be too," Bishop declared. "You're valued here. Your offspring will be too. These quarters are private. You can have a loving family if you want. The food is plentiful. You've already started making friends. You and your young will have a better life here than the world out there could ever offer you."
Something dawned on the genius turtle. He looked to the empty room. Bishop noticed the turtle's gaze. "The nursery," he said. "You can furnish it however you like."
"Just nothing that uses electricity," Don choked out. "And, I can never see my brothers."
"I never said that you can't ever see them. They just can't come here. You could visit though, with your children, if you like. You just need to agree to certain measures first."
"Great," Donatello groaned, rubbing his aching head. "And speakin' of my brothers, guess I should make that call."
"What do you plan to tell them?" Bishop asked.
"You mean you're not giving me a script?" Don asked.
Bishop smiled. "No. Tell them whatever you like. The truth will have to come out eventually."
"Truth? I wanna know tha truth. Was the Triceraton threat ever real?" Don wondered.
"Of course. It's very real. And, I want you on this project so that you will see all the good that you can do. This is why we need you, Donatello, and why we need more like you."
Don made a low noise in his throat. Then, he carefully rose to his feet and stumbled after Bishop to the communication room. He didn't know what he was going to say, but he did know who he was going to call - the brother least likely to make his migraine worse.
"Leo," Don practically gasped, when the phone stopped ringing. The sound was echoing in his skull.
"Don! We've been so worried about you. Why didn't you call last night?"
"Got wrapped up in something," Don replied. He realized that he was too exhausted and emotionally spent to do any more serious talking tonight.
"Are you okay?" Leo asked.
"Yeah," Don lied. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," Leo answered.
"Everyone else too?" Don asked.
"Yeah. Everything is good, Don. We've been fighting a lot, so we decided to call a truce. We got some pizza and had a movie night."
Don smiled and rested his aching head on his arm. He was happy to hear that the fighting between his brothers had finally stopped. "Whad'ya watch?"
"Some dumb action movie that Mikey And Raph wanted to see. You would've hated it." Leo chuckled. "I missed hearing all of the snarky comments you would have made."
"Tell me about it," Don requested, tiredly.
"That would be hard, given that there was no plot," Leo laughed. "Picture cheap special effects, muscle-bound men shooting at each other, unrealistically fast cars, explosions, and half-dressed women. That's pretty much all it was."
"Tell me anyway," Don begged. "I'm exhausted and I miss you guys. Some dumb movie sounds like heaven right now."
"Alright. Well, it was set in Los Angeles, where modest clothing is apparently frowned upon. I believe that the main character's name was Pinhead McImissedlegday."
Don closed his eyes and let Leo's soothing voice lull him to sleep right there in the communication room.
Later, Don was woken by the guards, who returned him to his quarters. He actually slept pretty well that night. He was emotionally exhausted and physically depleted. His body essentially gave out on him.
He spent the weekend recovering from shock and coming to terms with his situation. He was going to be a dad. Wasn't that something?