Enter Splinter
Donatello woke up with a start, his stomach rumbling. He barely had the time to run to the bathroom to empty its content.
As he bent over the toilet seat, he wondered if it was an after-effect of the Kraang substance he had swallowed the day before. Had his body finally reacted?
It was unlikely to be anything else. He hadn't even eaten as much pizza as he usually did, not to mention that he had never felt ill because of pizza before. It wasn't a mere indigestion.
Maybe it was a chemical reaction between the substance and pizza. He would have to check it later. Would he have to stop eating pizza while he was taking the substance? It was going to be hard without arousing his brothers' suspicions.
Donatello wiped his mouth with toilet paper and flushed the toilet, thinking that he could now add 'delayed effect' to his next report to Irma. He got back on his feet only to feel his head spin, and fell on his knees again, pressing his palms against his eyelids in an attempt to ease the dizziness.
He forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. How long would he be able to keep up the charade if a single drop got him on his knees? He would have to find a solution really fast, before his body sustained permanent damage. Surely he had at least a few days, right? More likely weeks, or even months, if he considered how many drops the vial was holding. Except that Irma might very well have taken into account the fact that he would try to experiment with some of it, and maybe she had no idea at all how it would affect his body and had just guessed large, or maybe…
Yeah. If he was honest with himself, he had no idea what he was doing.
He retched again, but his stomach was empty - nothing more to expel.
"Donatello?"
Donatello froze at the soft call. It wasn't the voice of one of his brothers - that would have been embarrassing enough.
No, it was his father calling him.
"I'm here," he answered weakly.
Master Splinter came inside the bathroom and knelt at Donatello's side, resting his hand against his son's forehead.
"My son, how are you feeling?"
Donatello felt like crying at hearing his father's soft voice. For a second, he wanted nothing more than to tell him everything. Splinter would know what to do - maybe he would be able to detect which one of his sons was a ticking bomb, and to save him, without Irma noticing, and… and…
Right, and pigs could fly. Donatello bit his lip, thinking desperately about an answer that wouldn't betray him. He opted for another truth.
"I've a headache, which was probably induced by the violence of emptying my stomach in spasms, and my throat is irritated because of the acidity of the fluid my body just got rid of."
Splinter stroked his beard, unfazed by the colorful description.
"Come with me. I'll give you something to help your body recover."
Donatello grimaced. Splinter had an impressive collection of medicinal teas, and the one which helped with indigestion tasted especially terrible.
"Hai, Sensei."
He stood up and allowed his father to support him as they made their way to the kitchen, if only to rest his head against his chest. Splinter made him sit while he boiled water, and Donatello watched him, taking comfort in the familiar gestures.
"There, drink this."
Donatello took the mug from his father's hands and sipped its content with caution, half-expecting his stomach to refuse the beverage. He was relieved to observe that even if the tea tasted worse than he remembered, he was able to drink it.
Splinter sat next to him and waited until he had emptied the mug.
"Do you know what made you sick?"
"Indigestion, I assume." Donatello averted his father's eye. "Maybe something on my pizza's topping."
"None of your brothers has been affected," Splinter mused.
Donatello bit his lip. "I might also have eaten too much," he added, hoping to redirect his father's train of thought. "Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize to me for being sick, my son." Splinter stroked his cheek. "Are you sure there is nothing else you want to tell me?"
Donatello shook his head, not trusting his voice to answer.
"Very well. Then I suggest that you go back to bed and try to rest. I'll be there if you need anything."
"Thank you, Father," Donatello whispered in a small voice, not knowing whether he was more ashamed or weary.
The next morning, Donatello struggled to get out of bed. His head felt heavy, probably from lack of sleep - please, let it be lack of sleep - and he was disheartened. Granted, he hadn't been sick again, but he would have to take another drop today, and it was likely to make matters worse.
With a groan, he got out of bed and went to the kitchen. Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo were already taking their breakfast.
"Hi, Dee," Michelangelo greeted him. "Feeling better?"
Donatello blushed. If his brothers' concerned looks were any indication, they were all well aware of the night's events.
"You heard me?"
"It would have been hard not to." Raphael took another mouthful of cereals. "But thanks for leaving the bathroom in a decent state. The same cannot be said of everyone else here." He looked pointedly at Michelangelo, who stuck his tongue out at him.
"Did Splinter give you some of his tea?" Leonardo shifted to make place for Donatello.
"Yes." Donatello grimaced at the thought. "It was efficient."
"That thing tastes like the dirt between Raph's toes." Michelangelo shivered.
Donatello tilted his head. "And how would you know what the dirt between Raph's toes tastes like?" he asked rhetorically. As Michelangelo grinned sheepishly, though, he realized that it hadn't been a figure of speech after all. "Ugh! Why would you even do that?"
"He promised to lend me his magazines if I did," Michelangelo answered as if it was the most sensible thing in the world.
Raphael withered a little under the combined glares of Donatello and Leonardo. "Hey, I didn't think he was seriously going to do it."
"It's Mikey. Of course he was going to do it." Donatello shook his head and filled his bowl with cereals.
"Enjoy your breakfast, everyone. If you're still able to." Leonardo sighed.
Donatello took a tentative spoon of cereals and chewed it slowly before swallowing. He hoped that his body wasn't going to reject it.
His three brothers were watching him with intense eyes, and Donatello lifted a finger. "Uh, guys? Not helping."
"Sorry." Leonardo coughed. "What do you think happened to you? Was it a virus?"
His voice was more than a little concerned, and Donatello could see why. The four of them rarely fell ill, but when one of them caught a bug, it was only a matter of time before the others did, too.
"No, I think it was indigestion."
"Dude, how dare you accuse the pizza!" Michelangelo glared at him. "You didn't even eat that much!"
Donatello glared at him. "Not everybody is a bottomless pit like you, Mikey."
He felt a little guilty as Leonardo and Raphael chuckled at the retort. It wasn't like it was wrong - Michelangelo was a bottomless pit as far as food was concerned.
And he needed them to believe that Michelangelo's remark was unfounded.
Right after breakfast, Donatello decided to tackle the problem of the cameras and microphones that Irma might have left inside the lair. With his new Kraang Tech Detector, it was easy for him to discover them - there were six cameras, including one in the kitchen, two in the living room and one in the dojo. The two others were in his lab and in his room, and he removed them easily. He noted that, like yesterday, the detector never pointed at one of his brothers. Maybe the bomb wasn't made of Kraang technology, or maybe it was too tiny to be detected.
Removing the cameras in the living room was easy - admittedly, Leonardo was there, but he was watching his favorite show and paid no attention to him. Besides, it was nothing out of the ordinary - being in charge of repairs had its advantages.
Splinter was meditating in the dojo, so removing the camera there was out of the question. He would have to wait until his father was finished.
That left the kitchen. Michelangelo was inside, petting Ice Cream Kitty while he munched at leftovers - as if he hadn't just eaten his breakfast - and Donatello wondered if he should wait to avoid his questions. He really wanted to be done, though, and decided to proceed.
Unsurprisingly, Michelangelo raised his head when Donatello climbed on the furniture to reach the ceiling.
"Uh, Donnie? What are you doing?"
Donatello had his answer ready.
"We need a smoke detector," he explained. "In case a fire starts in the kitchen."
He would remove the inside of the camera and leave its structure until he had time to replace it with a true smoke detector. He was a little disturbed that the lie was coming so easy to him, but the cause was noble.
"Do you want help?"
"No!" Donatello noticed Michelangelo's crestfallen expression, and immediately felt guilty. "I mean, no, thanks, Mikey."
Michelangelo still looked disappointed, and Donatello felt compelled to give him something to do.
"Actually, you can hand me this screwdriver, here."
Michelangelo obliged. "I love to help you, Donnie." He smiled. "I love to be there for you. If there is anything else I can do…"
Donatello bit his lip. He really hoped that he was imagining the subtext in Michelangelo's words.
"I know, Mikey. Thank you."
The second part of his morning was dedicated to investigating the Kraang substance. Splinter had dispensed him of morning training, and he had all the peace he could have wished.
He began by writing a detailed report about his nocturnal sick episode, not leaving behind any detail about the color or consistency of his stomach's content. He knew that Irma was unlikely to be disgusted by it - she was an alien after all - but she had spent a lot of time amongst humans, so maybe she would be. It was worth a try.
Then he took some of the alien substance and dropped it on a slice of pizza he had ordered behind Michelangelo's back, taking note of the gas that was emitted. He even retrieved some of Splinter's medicinal tea and added a drop inside too - once again, it emitted some gas. Finally, he made a mix of pizza, tea and a third drop - this time, nothing happened. As far as he could tell, the chemical reaction had been prevented.
This is my best chance, he thought glumly, and half-drank, half-ate the mixture he had concocted. It hadn't been 24 hours since he had last taken a drop of the vial, but he didn't want to wait. He needed to be in top shape for April's arrival. He didn't forget to clean his lab thoroughly until every trace of his activities had disappeared.
He had just finished typing his report for Irma when he was brutally interrupted by Casey Jones, of all people.
"Hey, Donnie! Where do you want your satellite dish?"
Donatello closed his laptop so fast that the screen slammed against the keyboard. He had completely forgotten that Casey had offered to save the satellite dish for him. "Casey! What are you doing here?"
Casey put the item on the floor and crossed his arms. "Isn't it obvious? Come on, Donnie, you're supposed to be the brains of the team."
Donatello massaged his temples. "I mean, what are you doing here, now? It's morning practice."
"Raph told me that you were excused from training today."
"Right. Then, put it there in the corner, please."
Casey did as he was instructed. Then he stood in the middle of the lab, swinging back and forth. "So, uh. You're seeing April today?"
Donatello crossed his arms. "And I fail to see how it's your business."
Casey raised his hand in a gesture of peace. "You're right, it's not." After a short and awkward silence, he went on. "What are you working on?"
Donatello gritted his teeth. Why, why did Casey want to chat especially today?
"I'm working on chemicals," he answered. Casey enjoyed mechanics better, so he was unlikely to offer his help.
And he wasn't disappointed. A few minutes later, Casey excused himself and left him in peace.
April came after lunch. Donatello was ready to welcome her under the best possible conditions. He had an excuse ready for thirty-three questions about the state of his lab - whether April found it too clean, or too messy, or if she wanted to talk about his current experiments - then he would talk about the Kraang Tech Detector - and of course, he had refreshed his knowledge on the Sun. April was going to make the best presentation on the subject ever.
The tutoring session went perfectly well. He managed to keep the conversation going about April's presentation exclusively, and April showed the greatest interest in everything Donatello said. She was especially surprised to learn that the Sun's activity was closely monitored from Earth.
"Space weather?" she said, leaning forward to better see the website Donatello was browsing.
"Yes. The Sun's activity can have important repercussions on Earth." Donatello excitedly pointed at a picture of the Sun ejecting coronal mass. "You see this? Solar winds like that reach the Earth at high speed and cause a magnetic storm. A storm that can disrupt electric power distribution, and…"
April listened intently as Donatello went on and on about the effects of magnetic storms, then switched to the birth and death of stars. At the end, she put her hand on his arm.
"Thank you, Donnie. Your help is invaluable."
Donatello coughed, suddenly at a loss for words.
"It's a… a pleasure. April. To help you. To help you is a pleasure, April." He tried hard not to bang his head against his desk. Where was his eloquence when he needed it the most?
April smiled. "And I'm glad you're feeling better."
"Me too." Donatello nodded. Then realization struck him. "Wait a minute. How do you know I wasn't feeling good?"
April patted his arm soothingly. "Mikey said something when I came into the lair. He was concerned about you, I think."
Donatello raised a hand.
"Excuse me for a minute."
He stood up and left the lab, smiling at his guest all the way. As soon as he was in the living room, he stomped right to the couch, where an unsuspecting Michelangelo was reading a comic.
"Mikey?"
Michelangelo raised his head. "Yes, Dee?"
"Mikey, did you tell April that I had been sick?"
Michelangelo watched him warily. "Yes? Dude, what's the matter? I just wanted her to take extra care of you."
Donatello hid his face in his hands. "Mikey, I appreciate the intention, but I would have preferred you to shut up."
"Why?"
"Because," Donatello answered, his cheeks burning, "it is not attractive. At all."
"Donnie, you're worrying too much. It's April. She doesn't care about stuff like that."
"But I do." Donatello leaned forward to better glare at his brother. "So, next time. You shut up."
"Got it, Dee." Michelangelo smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."
Donatello nodded and came back to his lab, a model of offended dignity.
Later that day, Donatello decided to tinker with the cameras he had found. Maybe he could find a way to trace them back to Irma. That would be useful information for later. And maybe it would give him a hint about how Irma was communicating with the bomb inside his brother's body, so he could break the connection and remove said bomb.
He didn't find any, but he did manage to trigger the last camera, the one which was in the dojo. He hadn't had the opportunity to remove it yet.
Donatello watched the image come out on his laptop with great curiosity. In the dojo, April was bowing to Splinter. It must be the end of her lesson. Leonardo was sitting cross-legged next to the wall, which was nothing out of the ordinary. However, both Raphael and Michelangelo were there too, which was way more unusual. If it was a special occasion, why didn't they call him?
Frowning, he tuned the sound until he could hear what was being said.
"Was Donatello able to help you?" Splinter was asking politely.
April nodded. "Yes."
Donatello smiled.
"But…"
He frowned. But what? What had he done wrong? Had he forgotten an important topic? Maybe he should have been more precise about the nuclear reactions happening within the Sun, and…
"… I feel like something is troubling him."
Donatello froze, barely daring to breathe.
"Hmm." Splinter crossed his arms behind his back and turned to Donatello's brothers. "What do you think?"
"He was strange yesterday," Raphael answered immediately. "We were following a lead, and all of a sudden he turned back. He was scared. And Casey says he was dismissive when he visited him today."
Donatello gritted his teeth. Had Raphael asked Casey Jones to watch him?
"And I don't know what it was, but it wasn't pizza that made him sick," Michelangelo added. "The pizza was super clean, and he barely ate any!"
"He was strange today too." Leonardo looked concerned. "He was tinkering with something on the living room's ceiling, and he was very careful not to make any sound. I mean, way more than normal."
Donatello swore inwardly. Leonardo hadn't been as oblivious to his presence as he had thought, then.
"He was tinkering with something in the kitchen too," Michelangelo added. "And it wasn't a smoke detector like he said."
"Because you know what a smoke detector looks like?" Raphael sounded doubtful at best.
"Of course, dude! I've been thinking about buying one. Ice Cream Kitty lives in the kitchen, and she's super sensitive to heat!"
Donatello closed his eyes and sank deeper in his chair. It seemed that he really had done a poor job of not arousing his family's suspicions. And for them to talk to Splinter so openly about him behind his back - they must be more than a little worried.
"So what do we do, Sensei?" Leonardo asked. "He didn't tell us anything, and he dismissed our attempts at talking."
"Let your brother come to us," Splinter advised. "Let him share his burden in his own time and place."
"Hai, Sensei," his brothers and April replied.
Even from the images of the camera, Donatello could tell that they were anything but convinced. This time, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the vial's drop he had swallowed in the morning.
It only became stronger when he realized that he might not have been the only witness of that scene.
I really hope Irma didn't watch this.
