Donatello came out of his room that afternoon, emerging like a frightened animal forced out of its cozy burrow. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. Leonardo and Michelangelo were sitting together, playing cards. Don found himself staring.
"We do this now, when we're alone together," Michelangelo said without turning. "It's soothing."
Don crossed his arms, a position which he hoped hid his stomach. "Raphael didn't come back?"
"Nope," Michelangelo replied. "Not yet."
"Are you guys still mad?" Don asked. He wondered if Leo was ignoring him for some reason.
"No," Mikey said, sounding genuinely surprised. "Never was."
Don waited for Leo to speak. Eventually, Leo looked up. "No. Sorry if you thought otherwise."
Donatello wasn't so sure. But, at the same time, he remembered how he had felt when he first found out about the babies - terrified and upset. He had holed up in his quarters and avoided even calling his brothers. If Leo was feeling even a fraction of that, Don couldn't blame him for seeming out of sorts. He hesitated for a moment before heading to the fridge for a drink.
"Are you feeling any better?" Leo asked.
"Yeah," Don said. "A bit, thanks." He quickly downed a glass of orange juice. "How are you guys doing?"
"It just needs some time to settle in," Leo replied. "This is just so surreal. I think that we all need a little while to regroup."
"Yeah," Don agreed, fidgeting with his hands. "Believe me, I get it."
"In the meantime, you let us know what you need," Leo encouraged. "We're here for you, Donnie, and for the babies."
Michelangelo signified his agreement with a kind smile.
The others returned to their game. Don had needed some food, but decided to head to his lab. He got the impression that his brothers needed space. Besides, he kept a stash of food in there and needed to distract himself with something. What better than the Triceraton?
Don checked the FTP site and found a new bulk data upload. He ignored the audio file at first. Bishop's team at Area 51 was more than capable of listening to ship-to-ship communication. Instead, he got to work crunching data. After a few hours, he sent an email to Valeria.
Hey Val - I was thinking, you should ask Bishop to give you my shell cell. I can't imagine wanting to talk to anyone other than you with it, and I have ways of getting in touch with Bishop if I need to. I can reactivate the outgoing text messaging and call functions so you can get a hold of me more easily. It would be more secure too. We would just need to establish an identification system in case the phone is ever stolen, or if you get into trouble and need a secret way to tell me. Maybe we could begin each call with one of your made-up hair excuses? Anyway, it was just a thought. I'd much rather discuss the data with you in person than to keep exchanging emails. If Bishop gives you the phone, just hit the orange button. It used to call my brother Michelangelo's phone, but I took his and gave him a new one. I hope that you're well and staying out of trouble. - Don
It wasn't five minutes before Donatello's phone rang. "Did you hear that the latest shipment of black hair dye was infested with scalp eating bacteria?" a warm voice greeted.
Don laughed. "I did. The news said there's not an uncontaminated batch to be found anywhere."
"It's a shame too because I'm getting really sick of this purple streak," Valeria teased.
"Oh, Val, I miss you," Don said before he could stop himself. Who would've thought that life would have been simpler when he was a prisoner plotting his escape from Area 51?
"I miss you too. Everyone is so uptight around here."
"Well, I hear that you've had some security problems lately," Don commented.
"Not me," Valeria giggled. "Nothing slips through on my watch."
"Guessing you're safe, then?" Don checked. "Bishop's not giving you too much trouble?"
"Oh, he's spitting mad. He knows better than to take it out on me, though. He's too afraid of losing you completely," Valeria explained.
"Good. If you ever feel like you're in danger, just call this number. I have ways of protecting you, even from here," Don promised.
"I'm sure you do. After your breakout, I take back anything I said about you not being a ninja."
Don blushed. "It was nothing, really. More of a computer programming victory than a martial arts victory."
"I'm not so sure," Valeria argued. "I heard about what you pulled off with that broom."
It was true. Donatello had taken out a few armed guards with the broom, as well as using it as a pole vault to get into the rafters. He had then swung across them like a monkey to escape some heavy foot traffic.
"You're a legend around here, now," Valeria complimented. "But now, onto the exciting stuff-"
"Data analysis," Don and Val said in unison.
Raphael apparently spent the day and subsequent night somewhere safe. He showed up at daybreak. As he entered the Lair, he was greeted by the sound of Donatello getting sick in the bathroom.
Don cleaned up and staggered into the main room. He had a hand across his middle and looked very groggy. He stopped short, almost bumping into Raphael.
"Just what I wanted to come home to," Raphael grumbled, "more of that."
"Sorry," Don muttered. He brushed by and flopped onto the sofa, hugging a pillow to cover up. "We gonna talk?"
Raphael seemed to shrink by a couple of inches. "I'm just scared for you, Don. I didn't mean to hurt you or anything. I just can't lose you. It really sucks when you're gone, you know?"
Don blinked. He did know. He hadn't told everyone all the details about his time in the alternate universe that Ultimate Drako had sent him to, but they all had a vague idea of what had happened there. Everything had fallen apart in Don's absence, and the brothers had become estranged. That meant that it could happen here too. It was a heavy burden to bear, the kind of thing that kept Don up at night, made him question everything.
"I get it, Raph. I'm sorry to be putting you through all this, but I'm not going anywhere."
"Don't make any promises that you can't keep, Don. You should know better," Raphael scolded.
Don sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept well. He was nauseous and shaky and he had a headache. "M'sorry."
Raph let out a deep breath and sat on the other side of the sofa. "You know what? I'm sorry too."
Don was going to ask why, but the truth was that Raphael had a lot to be sorry for, and they both knew it. So, Don just looked at his brother expectantly and waited for him to find the right words.
"What you said about me always thinking the worst, or however you phrased it… I guess that I do that… And I do get that… you were trying to tell us what you consider to be happy news, sort of."
"Sort of," Don coughed.
Raphael smiled a little. "Yeah, I just… I'm sorry if we kind of torpedoed you out of the water. I know that you were nervous about telling us, and I can't imagine that's how you wanted the conversation to go. And, I know that it's mostly my fault."
"It's okay," Don said softly. "I knew that no one would take it well, except for maybe Mikey."
"I know that I probably shouldn't have stormed out, too. But, let's face it, I was only making things worse."
"You needed space," Don surmised. "It's how you process things."
"So, we're okay, then?" Raphael asked.
"Sure," Don said, reaching out to lightly punch Raphael on the arm. Don had such a headache. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to rest his head on Raph's shoulder and go to sleep, but he knew that would be awkward. The turtles weren't exactly the cuddly types, but that didn't stop Don from longing for some type of physical affection right now. He was scared of all these changes and had been lonely for so long. The hormonal moodiness wasn't helping either.
"I thought that I heard you come in," Leonardo announced from his bedroom door. "Have a nice night?"
"Nice enough," Raphael answered gruffly. "Want me to pound on you for a little while before breakfast?"
Leonardo smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Leo and Raph sparred in the dojo for an hour to blow off steam. Don rested on the couch until Michelangelo appeared to make breakfast. When it was ready, he called his brothers into the kitchen. Don was painfully aware that everyone was trying to catch a glimpse of his stomach as he shuffled in. He did his best to hide it and quickly took a seat. He felt very ill, but he was hoping that food would help.
Michelangelo presented everyone with omelets. His brothers quickly began to chow down, but Don sniffed his suspiciously, then poked at it with his fork. "Mikey… is there…. candy in this?" he asked, hesitantly.
"Yeah, dude. It's got bacon, spinach, pineapple, and jelly beans!" he announced proudly.
Don bit his lip in the hopes of suppressing his gag reflex. "Pineapple and jelly beans?!"
"Yeah!" Mikey said brightly. "I thought that pregnant women loved weird combinations like that!"
Don was already losing the battle with his nausea, but being compared to a pregnant woman really put him over the top. He didn't want to be thought of like that! Don knew that he would never reach the bathroom in time, and ended up scampering to the sink where he proceeded to bring up stomach acid.
"Well, that about does it for my breakfast," Raphael said as he pushed his bacon and cheese omelet away.
"Sorry," Donatello moaned. When he was done, he collapsed back into his seat and looked sadly at Michelangelo.
"It seemed well-balanced: a fruit, a veggie, some meat, dairy and dessert. I honestly thought you'd like it," Michelangelo defended. "I mean, you like pineapple on your pizza, so why not in an omelet?"
"Thanks for trying, but I can hardly keep normal food down," Don said weakly. "If I start getting weird cravings, I'll let you know."
"Well if you're not going to eat it, I will," Michelangelo announced. He grabbed the plate and Donatello watched in horror as he devoured every bite of the strange concoction. When the show was over, Don got up again to make some toast and tea. Raphael had put a pot of coffee on. It was like being stabbed in the heart, watching the drops of precious liquid dribble out, but knowing that he couldn't have any.
Raphael noticed Donatello staring. "Have as much as you want," he offered. "I can always make another pot."
"I can't have caffeine," Don sadly reported. "It's bad for the babies."
"Tea has caffeine too, you know," Leo put in.
Don almost rolled his eyes. "Not nearly as much as coffee, and peppermint tea doesn't have any at all." The toaster dinged, and Don grabbed his food. He really needed to get a hold of that some ginger jam that Area 51 had kept in stock. It wasn't particularly tasty, but it was good for his stomach. Why was he reminiscing about Area 51 again? Don shook his head and quietly nibbled on his dry toast.
"Ready for training?" Leo eventually asked.
Raphael bounced out of his chair, and Michelangelo rose with a groan. Everyone looked on in surprise when Donatello got up too.
"You're coming?" Raphael asked.
"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?" Donatello snapped.
"Because, you're pregnant?" Michelangelo elaborated.
"Don't call me that!" Don demanded.
Michelangelo was confused. He looked at Leo and Raph, but they offered no help. "Umm," Michelangelo stuttered. "Call you what?"
"Pregnant!" Don spat.
"So… wait. Was this some sort of weird joke?" Mikey asked.
"No," Don quickly supplied. "I just… don't really like that word. I'm not a woman."
"Okaaaay," Michelangelo drawled. "How should we say it? Knocked up? Prego? Up the duff?"
"No! Just… I'm expecting. Let's just say it like that," Donatello requested.
"Okay. Well, are you sure that you should be training while you're expecting?" Raphael asked.
"I was fine to do it yesterday, and the day before," Donatello reasoned. "The only difference now is that you guys know."
"But you seem so sick, and if I were you, I'd be using every excuse in the book to enjoy some downtime," Michelangelo said.
"Well, thank goodness he's not you," Raphael quipped. "But still, you're not looking too good, Donatello."
"Will everyone stop telling me that!" Donatello begged. "I know that I look awful. I don't need to keep hearing about it!"
Raphael ignored Donatello's outburst. "I just meant that you're not exactly in top form. What if we accidentally hurt you or something?"
"I won't let that happen," Don assured. "Besides, if I don't practice and work out, I'm going to get even more out of shape than I am now. It's going to be hard enough to get through the next few months as it is."
"There are plenty of good ways to stay in shape that don't involve combat training, Don," Leo advised. "If you want, I can work on a new regimen for you."
"Why would I want to do that?" Don asked. "Ninjitsu is what I know. I may not be as good as you, Leo, but I'm still pretty darn good."
"No one said otherwise," Leo quickly pointed out. This sure seemed like a major overreaction on Don's part, but Leo had done some reading last night, and he knew that mood swings were to be expected.
"I'm still going to need to defend myself. Soon, I'll have the babies to defend as well. If anything, I need to be more diligent about training," Don reasoned.
"We can protect you while you're…. in this condition," Leo offered.
"I don't want to rely on anyone else," Don said, testily. "I can't. What if our home gets broken into again? What if Bishop comes for me, or I get separated from you guys somehow? Then, there's the threat of another Triceraton invasion."
"Just because you take a break from training won't mean that you forget how to fight entirely," Raphael argued. "It's not like you've got to lie down on the floor if Bishop comes for you."
"Yeah," Michelangelo agreed. "Like you said, you're a darn good ninja. Your skills aren't going to go away overnight. You might as well take the chance to kick back and relax for a while."
"I can't afford to relax," Donatello countered. "I'm probably going to be gaining a lot of weight in a short amount of time. I'll probably keep getting bigger, too. I need to keep training as my body goes through these changes, otherwise, I won't stand a chance of defending myself when I'm further along."
"Okay, okay," Leonardo threw his hands up and relented. "If you want to keep training, we won't stop you. I do think that we should make certain concessions, though."
"Like what?" Donatello asked.
"Red shirt," Raphael advised.
"What?" Leo said. The others looked just as baffled.
"I want him to wear a red shirt, like in football. It'll make him stand out more, and remind us to go easier on him," Raphael explained.
"Good idea," Michelangelo agreed. "Can I have one too?"
Raph whacked Mikey on the back of the head. "Very funny."
"Fine. I'll wear a red shirt." Honestly, Donatello liked the idea. He would have no way to hide his belly while fighting, but the shirt would help cover it up. "Anything else?"
"Just the obvious stuff. No kicks to the middle or the back. No knocking you down," Leo listed.
"I can defend myself," Don insisted. "My enemies won't go easy on me, so why should you?"
"Don, right now you're acting like we're your enemies," Leo noticed.
Donatello was going to argue, but then he realized that he was being rather combative and snippy. "I'm sorry. Guess I'm in a bad mood from not sleeping well… for the last three months," Don added with a half grin.
"Don't worry about it," Leo replied. He put an arm around Don's shoulders and led him into the dojo. Raphael fetched a red tee shirt from his room. Donatello quickly put it on and carefully tucked it into his belt so that it wouldn't come loose.
Leo began the training session with meditation. He didn't do this every day, but given recent events, it seemed like a good idea. Afterwards, he moved on to katas. Donatello tried to ignore that everyone kept glancing in his direction. Instead, he concentrated on his moves. As much as he had tried to practice at Area 51, he knew that he was rusty.
The turtle brothers had always been quite evenly matched, overall. Leonardo had the most finesse. Raphael was the strongest, Donatello was the most clever, and Michelangelo was the fastest. Still, the differences were barely perceptible.
Today, Donatello kept up with his brothers, but his breathing was off, his moves not as sharp. When they flipped across the room, he didn't quite gain their height. He was a half step behind when they landed. Most people would have been pleased with themselves, particularly at three months along with triplets, but Don found himself getting frustrated and angry, which was unusual for him.
Next came sparring. Leo matched himself with Don, because the others clearly didn't want to face him. Again, Don pretended not to notice how relieved Raphael and Michelangelo looked. He faced off with Leo, and it was abundantly clear that the leader was holding back. Don put up with it for a while. Then, when Leo made an unusually poor move that appeared to be just for show, Don swept Leo's legs out from under him with his bo, causing the leader to crash to the ground.
"Nice, Donatello," Leo praised. "Good job."
"Oh, please," Donatello griped. "Don't patronize me, Leo. You clearly let me have that one." Despite his harsh tone, Don gave his brother a hand getting up.
"I didn't do it on purpose," Leo disagreed.
Don wouldn't back down. "We both know better."
"I really didn't do it on purpose," Leo insisted. "I just got distracted."
Don stared at Leo, knowing that his brother would keep talking if the silence got awkward enough. Sure enough, Leo dropped his head and continued. "It's just weird seeing you in that shirt… thinking of you in that way."
Don frowned. "It's weird for me too. Hopefully, it'll get easier with time."
Leo wasn't so sure. He was afraid that it would only get harder. From what little Leo had been able to see, Don's pregnancy, or whatever he wanted to call it, was barely showing now. It was going to be awfully weird a few months from now, if Donatello did get bigger. Leo couldn't imagine seeing his brother like that, his brother.
"I know," Leo said, hoping that it sounded sympathetic. "Want to go again? I'll try not to get distracted this time."
In response, Don took a fighting stance.