Donatello doubled up his efforts to track the Triceraton spaceships, but he was running himself ragged. Given how sick the cafeteria made him, he took to working through lunch. Instead, he munched on crackers and cereal throughout the day. His energy level was dipping to an all-time low. All of his physical resources were devoted to nurturing the budding lives within him. All of his mental resources were devoted to tracking Triceraton movements and developing his escape plans. He worked between 14 and 16 hours day, and was still passing out at his desk on a routine basis.
Valeria returned from her lunch break to find Donatello snoozing on his keyboard yet again. "Donatello," she called in a singsong voice.
The turtle stirred but didn't wake. "Don-a-tellll-ooo," she purred, playfully.
"Mmmm. Valeria, I bet you taste like a mocha latte with a sweet, caramel swirl," he moaned, apparently still asleep.
"What?!" Valeria barked in surprise, louder than she intended to.
Don's eyes popped open. "What?!" he blurted. He then snapped upright. "Oh, my head!" He frantically massaged his temples.
"Sorry for the harsh awakening," Valeria apologized. "I think that you were talking in your sleep, and you said something really weird."
"Oh, sorry. I guess I was dreaming. I've been having some crazy ones lately." The flush on Don's cheeks told Valeria that he remembered exactly what he'd been dreaming about. She felt a light flush rising in her own cheeks.
Don was beyond embarrassed. He didn't even want to think about what he might have said. He did genuinely like Valeria, but it wasn't like him to have these passionate urges. Over the past month, he had realized that the more animalistic side of his attraction to Valeria was partially the result of the foreign hormones coursing through his body. He could control his behavior while he was awake, but he had just been presented with a very good reason to stop nodding off in their shared office.
"I brought you lunch," Valeria announced, hoping to quell some of the awkwardness. "A turtle cannot live on crackers alone." She placed a paper bowl in front of him.
Don opened the lid, and the enticing aroma of chicken noodle soup filled the air. "Thank you. This looks delicious." No wonder he liked her.
"Good for sensitive stomachs, and you can put your crackers right in it," Valeria suggested.
"Thanks. You are so thoughtful," Don gushed as he took his first spoonful.
"We've been working hard. And since neither of us is of legal drinking age," Valeria said.
"Soup it is," Don finished the thought. He had another spoonful. "Let me tell you about the breakthrough that I had before I nodded off."
Don was thoroughly exhausted again when the time came to phone his brothers. It was a Raph night. He was rather grateful for that, as Raph was generally the least talkative. All Don wanted to do was curl up in his bed.
"Hey Raphie," Don yawned.
"Hey Don-Don," Raph chuckled.
Don blinked in confusion. "Don-Don?"
"You just called me Raphie, so I figured we were using childhood nicknames," Raphael gently teased.
"I did?" Don muttered before yawning again.
"Sorry. Am I keeping you awake?" Raph pouted. "Nice to hear that you're geared up for our call."
"I am," Don defended. "I'm just exhausted."
"Well, at least you're not barfing or slurring," Raph chuckled.
"Yeah. Let's call it a win," Don suggested. "So, how are you? How are things at home?"
"I am fine, and things at home suck," Raph declared.
"So, same old, same old?" Don assessed.
"You could say that," Raphael answered.
Don sighed. It looked like he could kiss that early bedtime goodbye. "Go ahead and get it out of your system. I'll listen."
"Okay. So Leo wanted to patrol today, right? And we came across this group of Purple Dragons that were about to break into a jewelry store. So you'd think that Leo would want to stop them, right?"
"Mmm," Don put in.
Raph kept talking. "So I start heading towards them, and Leo asks where I was going. And I was like, 'to stop the theft, stupid.' And Leo is like 'what theft?' And I'm like 'that one happening right in front of us.' Then Leo says it's not a theft until they actually break in, so we can't stop them until they go ahead and make a move. And I'm like - 'that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. There needs to be actual property damage or someone needs to get hurt first?! Since when?' Leo starts spouting something about Bushido that no one cares about. Anyway, things are getting heated between Leo and I, when suddenly we hear glass breaking. So surely now we can go, right?"
"Right," Don agreed.
"Wrong. Because then we realize that Mikey is gone. And of course my first thought is that he went after the Dragons, so I start heading in that direction. And Leo is like - 'oh no you don't.'"
"What?" Don exclaimed.
"Exactly. So Leo is like 'Oh no you don't. Just because you would've run mindlessly into a fight doesn't mean Mikey would've.' Leo then says that Mikey probably got pissed that we were fighting again and took off. And I'm like 'why do you think that?' And Leo is like, 'let's just call his shell cell,' but the little stinker doesn't pick up. Then Leo turns the tracker on and it shows that Mikey is a few blocks away."
"Nifty," Don commented.
"Right?! So we ignore the break-in and go to get Mikey. We find him hiding behind a water tower like a damn child. And I don't know if he's mad because we were fighting again or in some sort of trouble or what. So just when I'm about to chew him out for not answering his phone, he's like, 'you found me. Now it's your turn to seek.' Naturally, this makes me want to clobber him, but it's Leo that steps in and starts yelling about how Mikey can't run off like that, and how he's irresponsible and childish. And, Mikey starts yelling that he can't take Leo and I fighting anymore. Why can't we just play ninja hide and seek and have fun like the good old days?"
"Oh jeez," Don remarked, to show that he was still listening.
"And I said, 'what good old days?' I mean, were things ever good? Sure, maybe life sucked less at one point, but it was never what I would have considered good."
Don wanted to disagree, but he knew that Raphael just needed to unload. This is why Raph liked talking to Don. He didn't argue. He just listened. Still, this was hard for Don to hear. He'd been struggling with this too lately - this question of whether a good life was even possible for him and his children. He'd always thought that he was happy and that his brothers were too. Maybe it was the hormones making him overemotional, but Don wondered now if that feeling of happiness and fulfillment had been an illusion all along.
All he could do was put in brief comments and try not to cry, while Raph continued to vent about yet another fight, and how awful everything was.
Don really needed to get home, while he still had a home to go back to. He knew that the news of his pregnancy might destroy it entirely, but maybe his family would rally around him. Maybe having babies to nurture and play with would be just what the doctor ordered. At least, that was what Don told himself to lull his exhausted body and soul to sleep at night.
Donatello ran a finger along the streamlined curves of the satellite that he had spent the last month designing. He had supervised the construction, but the build team had done most of the work. This was his last time seeing it before it would be launched into space and then deployed into earth's orbit. A second one would soon follow, to aid with triangulating the signals that were originating in Triceraton space.
But, it was this first satellite that Don was planting all of his hopes in. This was the satellite that carried his special secret coding. After it was deployed and activated, it would send an encrypted message to his brothers, telling them when and where to meet him. The message wasn't detailed. He couldn't have put much more into the email without making the code more complex and giving himself away. He would ask a few pointed questions during his daily phone calls to ensure that his brothers knew what was going on.
It would take a few days for the satellite to reach its desired orbit, and be fully deployed. It would send out the email almost immediately after startup. Then, Don would have a three-day wait to allow time for his brothers to prepare themselves and make the drive to Area 51.
At precisely 4 PM on the following Tuesday, the remainder of the hidden coding would begin to do its work. The fire door at the rear of Valeria and Don's office would be unlocked and the alarm would be disabled. The guards normally stayed posted outside the main entrance, so they wouldn't notice Don slipping out the back. The security camera nearest the office would go offline, and the security guard's display would show an empty hallway. Don's path would continue from there, down specific halls and through specific doors that would unlock just as he reached them. Finally, he would reach the main gate and run to freedom. His brothers should be pulling up to the gates at just the right moment…. he hoped.
Don pet the glimmering metal of the satellite. "I'm counting on you, buddy," he told it. "We all are." It was more than just his freedom at stake, after all. His children's futures were riding on this as well. Don thoughtfully placed a hand over his belly, feeling a paternal sense of protectiveness that was becoming more and more familiar to him.
Had he done everything right? Would the code work as expected? Were his ninja skills still up to par? Would his brothers make it to the meeting point? Only time would tell. Tomorrow the satellite would be headed into space, and everything would be out of his control.
Valeria unexpectedly entered the room and snapped Don out of his reverie. He dropped the hand that had been cradling his midsection and swung around to look at his friend. Valeria whistled in admiration of the satellite. "She's a beauty."
"She is," Don agreed, turning back to consider his handiwork. "The build team did a great job."
"So did you. Not bad for a first-timer."
"Not bad at all," Don said hopefully.
That night, Don was stretched out on the sofa, reading a book on theoretical physics and snickering to himself as he made marginal corrections. It was almost 9 PM, which was later than he had stayed up in weeks. He stretched and let out a huge yawn, absent-mindedly cupping his softening lower plastron with his free hand. Startled, he set the book aside and looked down to confirm what he was feeling.
It was rounded!
Sure, it was a barely perceptible bump, and no one other than him would look twice, but it was definitely there. A lot of it had to do with his position and the fact that he had been snacking all night. Nevertheless, Don still knew that it meant his days of a flat belly were inevitably drawing to a close.
He didn't know how to feel. This was something he had been dreading, and he was hoping to hold out longer. However, some part of him was happy to see and feel progress. This meant that in spite of how sick he had been, his children were still growing. A smile touched his face and he gently moved his hand around his abdomen.
"Hey," he whispered, almost bashfully. "Hey, guys."
The following week was amongst the most stressful of Don's young life. He was constantly worried that something might go wrong during his breakout attempt - the code not working right or his family not showing up. Additionally, he realized that he had made a major oversight. To sustain this pregnancy outside of the base, he would need to continue with the hormone treatments. They were specially formulated, and while Don may be able to reproduce them, it would take time that he didn't have. If he went off of the medications, even just for a few days, his body would reject the babies. Don needed to find the hormones and steal them.
The problem was that he didn't know where the hormones were stored. Not only that, but his coding had been designed to allow a specific, perfectly timed path out of Area 51. There was no room to deviate once the sequence began. He would have to somehow steal the hormones beforehand.
Don's belly continued to pop. Although it was still tiny, he was beginning to notice cramping that he assumed amounted to growing pains. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage.
Be it because of stress, loneliness, or growing affection, Don had begun talking to his babies when he was alone. He assumed that his living quarters were under surveillance, so he didn't speak much, nor did he say anything about his plans. He simply drew comfort from occasionally chatting with them.
Right now, he was pacing the room like the nervous wreck that he was, brainstorming ways that he could steal the hormones. His back was hurting, but he was too anxious to sit.
Finally, Don stopped in his tracks and allowed some of the stress to flow out of him. A smile lit his face, and he pet his middle, lovingly. "What do you guys think? Do we have a plan?"
Of course, the babies offered no response. Don perked up anyway. "What's that? You want to celebrate with a pint of ice cream? Well, who am I to argue with that?"