On Eggshells
Donatello didn't dare to leave his lab for the next hour. He couldn't bring himself to face his family. He was certain that his face would betray that he had heard them talk about him. In a way, he felt moved that they paid such close attention to him and his well-being, but they were only making matters worse.
It was obvious now that he had to give them some sort of explanation in order to rule out their suspicion. What could he possibly come up with? And he would have to remove the camera, of course. Just thinking about Irma watching - and maybe recording, and maybe watching again - the scene he had just witnessed made his blood boil in his veins.
The sound of a new email in his inbox claimed his attention. He checked it, his heart beating faster in his chest, and clenched his fists when he saw who the sender was. With a sour taste in his mouth, he opened it.
Don't remove the last camera.
Donatello took a deep, shaky breath. So much for this strategy, then. He wondered briefly if Irma was also studying them the same way she had studied humans for so long.
As he calmed himself by making sure for the umpteenth time that everything concerning the vial - his notes, his material, and the vial itself - was safely hidden from prying eyes, he wondered how he was going to keep the charade. He hated to lie to his family. Their trust was precious to him, and he already felt bad knowing that he was hiding something essential to them.
Guys, I'm so sorry. I have no other choice.
He finally settled for a half-lie, half-truth that he believed could be convincing enough to appease his brothers, and gathered his courage. He had half-expected somebody - Michelangelo, for example - to come into his lab for a chat, but no one did. They must have taken Splinter's advice to heart.
It was time to leave his stronghold.
When Donatello set a cautious foot in the living room, April had long come home. Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo were all relaxing - Leonardo was reading a comic, Michelangelo was channel-hopping, and if he believed the sweat on Raphael's arms, his brother had been in the process of beating his punching-ball for a while.
They all turned to him as soon as they felt his presence, though, and Donatello almost winced. Had they been waiting for him?
"Hey guys," he began.
Their answers - various intonations of "Hey Donnie! Glad to see you, bro! What are you up to?" - sounded a little too cheerful. Donatello took a deep breath and ignored the awkwardness to set his plan into motion.
"Maybe you've noticed that I was a little stressed yesterday."
"Yes, we have!" Michelangelo's hopeful smile was almost unbearable to watch.
"Oh, no, not at all," Leonardo and Raphael both answered at the same time.
Donatello rolled his eyes. Did they seriously expect him to believe that? But then, he did expect them to believe what he was going to say.
He put his hands behind his back so his brothers wouldn't notice their shaking. Breathe. It'll work. It's 100% plausible and they have no reason not to believe me. I never lie to them.
"Anyways, I feel a little tired since yesterday. It is possible that I've been overworking myself with the counter-attack against the Kraang and the repairs of our lair. That must have depleted my immune system, and would explain why I got sick."
He hoped that none of them would realize the symptoms for stress didn't normally involve vomiting. However, he was the only one who had actually studied medicine textbooks, and he had managed to keep his teacher's voice the whole time.
Please, guys. Buy it.
"I knew it wasn't the pizza," Michelangelo whispered, attracting himself a nudge from Raphael.
Donatello bowed his head in shame - a feeling that wasn't faked.
"I've always said that science wasn't a healthy activity." Raphael crossed his arms.
Donatello raised his head with lightning speed to glare at his brother - another feeling that wasn't faked. Maybe he wasn't a complete and utter liar yet.
"Science is a very healthy activity, and one you definitely should practice more. I might have just abused it in the few past days." He faked an annoyed huff. "The point is, I'm going to take it easier. I'm sorry if I've been worrying you." There. Would they take the bait?
"It's okay, Dee, we understand. We just saved the world, after all, and not everybody can have a strong constitution like me." Michelangelo hugged him, and Donatello relaxed a little.
"Thanks for being open with us, Donnie." Leonardo smiled at him.
Donatello nodded, his eyes set on the top of Michelangelo's head. He couldn't bring himself to look at his brother. He knew Leonardo was an acute observer, but he also knew that he had a strong tendency to trust those he loved.
A category he absolutely belonged to.
"It's good to know you still have some self-preservation left," Raphael added, grinning, and Donatello's stomach knotted in guilt.
They had bought it, out of their love and trust for him. He wanted to dig a deep hole and bury himself inside.
"Hey, Donnie," Michelangelo said with excitation, "you're not going to believe this, but we were just thinking that we all needed to relax! We're going skateboarding tonight, and we could even go through the junkyard! What do you say?"
Donatello looked at Leonardo. "No patrol?"
His brother shook his head. "No, not tonight. We can take a night off from time to time, right?"
It was a nice gesture, and Donatello did appreciate it. On the other hand, he knew that he would never be able to enjoy the night like his brothers expected him to - not with the burden he had on his shoulders.
But he wasn't going to spoil their fun, or make them suspicious again.
"That's a great idea!" he said, a perfect picture of enthusiasm.
He plastered a smile on his face as his brothers grinned at him.
I'm the worst brother ever.
The evening went great, and Donatello would have loved it in any other situation. They didn't encounter any foes, they played on the rooftops, and everyone agreed to carry the multiple items Donatello found at the junkyard.
The whole time, Donatello was busy planning his future experiments and strategizing his next moves. He thought he felt suspicious looks in his back once or twice, but maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
He quickly realized that he had been honest in one more thing than he had thought, though. He was, indeed, tired.
Really tired. So much, in fact, that they came home earlier because he couldn't stop yawning. Donatello hoped that it would give his story more weight, although he was afraid that it could be another side effect of the Kraang substance.
At least he hadn't been sick again.
Days passed. Donatello was doing his best to behave normally, but he was feeling more and more tired.
He was still drinking Splinter's tea, which he was now certain helped him to keep food in his stomach, but he had done almost no progress on understanding what the substance was and what it did, and it was driving him crazy.
Training sessions became especially difficult. He couldn't focus on the exercises, and his reflexes were becoming slower to the point it was beginning to show. It didn't help that he was always aware of the camera in the dojo, and of the alien that might be watching them.
One day, he came very close to explode and tell his brothers everything. They were training by themselves in the dojo - Splinter had gone in the sewers for a solitary walk, like he sometimes felt the need to - and he was fighting Raphael.
A Raphael that looked especially annoyed.
"Come on, Donnie, you're not even trying!"
Donatello, who had been picking himself up to face his brother again, stopped. Not trying? He was trying alright, trying his very best to protect his family and find answers that escaped him, because as much as he was a genius the Kraang had a head start on him, a thousands-of-years-old head start actually, and it was really, really hard to catch up when his head felt so heavy with exhaustion and worry that he could barely even think, and it was all he could do the keep his mouth shut and not yell at them that it was too much, and he needed help, please, I'm in too deep, I can't do it, and that camera that was still filming them, filming him, and he couldn't say a word or everything would be over, and -
"Can't you take fighting seriously for once?" Raphael threw his arms up, and it was too much for Donatello.
"I'll be in my lab," he snapped, storming out of the room before he broke down and ruined everything.
He wasn't fast enough to avoid hearing Michelangelo's whisper, though - it was as if his brother made a point of honor to be heard at all times.
"He's not getting better, is he?"
It was, once again, April who gave him new hope.
That evening, she came to the lair to spend quality time with him - with him, and him alone, because she enjoyed his company - and they had discussed her presentation. Her teacher had been delighted, and she had earned the highest grade.
"It's thanks to you, Donnie!" She grinned at him.
"Congratulations, April!" He smiled weakly. "I knew you would do it."
"She especially liked that I mentioned space weather." April shook her head in disbelief. "And the best part is, I could show them the Space Weather website and it's announcing a magnetic storm in a couple of days! They don't know yet how powerful it will be, but…"
"A magnetic storm? In New York?" Donatello's voice creaked. He ran to his laptop to check - and indeed, there was. The forecast had even been updated, saying that there was a very real possibility that the magnetic storm would disturb human activities, involving GPS and communication networks.
His mind raced.
48 hours. In 48 hours, he would have a window to fix things. During the magnetic storm, communications would be unavailable - which meant that Irma wouldn't be able to trigger the bomb. It would give him the possibility to find which one of his brothers was implied, and to save him.
It was a wild guess, but it was the only plan he had.
"April, you're the best!" He grabbed her arms and spun her around the room, laughing genuinely like he hadn't in days.
That night, he noticed the white spots on his skin for the first time.
