Trial and Error


It was an understatement to say that Donatello didn't sleep well that night. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that the magnetic storm was his last chance. He had kept taking drop after drop of Irma's mixture, and it was obvious that his body was paying the price. He had no idea how long it would tolerate the abuse.

Irma hadn't protested when he had mentioned the tea he was drinking with the drops. Had she known that it wouldn't change anything? Maybe she had a scientific team at her disposal? Surely a Kraang Subprime had resources, no matter how defeated he was.

Donatello had carefully assessed the damage. As far as he could tell, the white spots were only present on his arms. He had spent one hour creating makeup the exact color of his green skin, and making sure that it would hide the spots from anything but a very close inspection.

He had only two days to go. No big deal. He could do it.

The next morning, Donatello briefly wondered if he could find a way to stay hidden from his family. He was trying to be optimistic, but he couldn't deny the obvious: he looked terrible.

He felt a little better after applying his homemade makeup. Not only did it hide the white spots on his arms perfectly, but it also concealed the dark rings under his eyes.

Raphael was extra nice with him during breakfast. Donatello didn't need to be a genius to guess that his brother was feeling guilty. He would have let him macerate in his guilt for a while longer, but his heart wasn't in revenge and he gracefully accepted Raphael's silent apology.

He then undertook to prepare everything he would need for the day of the magnetic storm. He would have to remove the bomb from his brother's body. Thanks to the evidence Irma had showed him to convince him that she was telling the truth, he had a vague idea of the way the bomb had been implanted. It was unlikely to be very deep, but he would have to cut the skin and part of the muscle. Did they have enough compresses?

He tried not to think about the fact that he was going to perform surgery on one of his brothers. Maybe he should ask Splinter to do it instead? Their father's long fingers would give him more precision. But of course, he couldn't tell Splinter before the fateful day, and who knew how things would turn out? It was better to prepare for anything.

His preparations were interrupted by Michelangelo, who wandered inside the lab in the obvious hope of getting Donatello to open up. Donatello did his best to hide his anxiety. Knowing that a solution was in sight gave him a new energy, but it also made him jumpy. He couldn't afford to be discovered now.

He hoped that Michelangelo wasn't going to push him, and was relieved when his brother didn't. He did, however, rummage through Donatello's things while he had his back to him, and found the scalpels that Donatello had put aside.

"Hey, Donnie, what's that for?" Michelangelo sounded more curious than concerned. "Do you intend to dissect somebody?" He grinned as if it was a hilarious joke.

Donatello almost choked, and he let out a loud mental laugh that was only half-faked. Luckily for him, Michelangelo seemed to believe that he was playing along. He pretended to be scared, which gave him the opportunity to jump on Donatello's shell and hug him tight.

Donatello restrained himself from telling Michelangelo that hiding from him by clinging on to him wasn't exactly the best of moves, and kept laughing like a maniac, relieving some of his stress in the process.

It went well until he dissolved into a coughing fit.

Michelangelo jumped from his shell and put his hands on his shoulders. "Donnie? Donnie, are you alright?"

"It went down the wrong way," Donatello pretended as soon as he caught his breath. He felt dizzy, and collapsed in his chair. "I guess I'm not made to be a mad doctor," he added, his tone deliberately grandiloquent.

Reassured, Michelangelo smiled. "You would make a great doctor, Dee. I would trust you with surgery any time!"

"Thank you, Mikey."

Donatello tried not to think that maybe Michelangelo would have to, and sooner than later.


Donatello had hoped that they wouldn't go out tonight, or only for a short patrol, but of course it couldn't be that easy.

"Casey has heard rumors of Purple Dragons plundering houses," Leonardo said, his expression focused. "Some citizens are still missing."

Donatello nodded. Not everyone had made it out of Dimension X with their memories intact, and the hospitals and clinics were full of amnesiacs who didn't remember where they lived. The police was too busy right now to keep an eye on thieves, and the deserted houses were an easy prey.

The four of them were gathered into the living room, with Raphael and Michelangelo already exchanging excited glances. Leonardo was watching him. Was Donatello's mind playing tricks on him, or did his brother suspect something?

"Do you think you're up to it?"

"What do you mean?" Donatello retorted, a lump in his throat. "Of course I'm up to it. Are we going to meet Casey there?" he asked to draw Leonardo's attention away.

Raphael shook his head. "He has to look after his little sister. It's not going to be much of a fight anyways." He smirked. "That's the Purple Dragons we're talking about. Mikey could take them down in his sleep."

Michelangelo nodded gracefully. "Thanks, Raph." He then narrowed his eyes, trying to decide whether or not there was an insult behind the compliment. Raphael's self-satisfied expression was highly suspicious.

Leonardo went on before Michelangelo could make up his mind.

"Very well, then. It's not far from Central Park. Let's go."


They arrived just in time to see the Purple Dragons disappearing inside a small warehouse, their arms full of bags. Leonardo made them go around the building to scout the area. There was another entrance on the other side.

"Okay," Leonardo whispered, "here is the plan. Raph and Mikey, you're taking this entrance. Donnie and I will take the first one, so the Purple Dragons can't escape. Wait five minutes before you come in, so Donnie has time to deactivate any potential alarm. Once inside, if the Purple Dragons are alone, we corner them and tie them up for the police. If not, we meet again. No rash decisions."

He met Raphael's gaze and held it for a little longer than strictly necessary to convey his point. Donatello had a hunch that more than a caution warning was passing between the two of them, which was confirmed when Raphael nodded without protest. Soon, he was leaving with Michelangelo in his wake.

Donatello frowned as he followed Leonardo on the other side of the warehouse. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off with Leonardo's plan. It wasn't until they arrived at the first entrance and Leonardo began playing with the lock while he checked the building for alarms - there was one, and deactivating it was child's play for him - that he realized what it was.

Both he and Leonardo were the most talented with unlocking doors in a silent way. Just imagining Raphael kicking the door down on the other side made him wince. It made no sense that the leader would pair them together for that particular mission. Unless… Unless he wanted to keep an eye on him.

This couldn't be good.

Biting his lip, Donatello followed his brother inside. Now that he thought of it, it made perfect sense. Leonardo took his role as leader very seriously and if he had any reason to suspect that a member of his team wasn't at his best, he would make sure to be able to intervene quickly.

Which meant that Leonardo thought that Donatello wasn't at his best. He probably didn't know how much, though, or he wouldn't have agreed with Donatello's involvement in the first place.

Donatello tried to convince himself that he wasn't being reckless. He felt tired, sure, and sometimes his head ached... But if he had told his brothers that he would rather stay home, they would have wanted to know why, and he didn't want to give them any reason to think he wasn't feeling well.

Or Splinter would want to examine him, and his trick with the green makeup wouldn't withstand his father's keen eye.

As soon as they entered the warehouse, Leonardo pointed at the beams near the ceiling. Donatello nodded, understanding that they would watch their surroundings from above.

They had barely walked ten feet on the beams when the same dizziness that he had felt in his lab earlier came upon him again, and for the briefest of seconds he lost track of where he was…

He slipped.

"Donnie!" Leonardo shouted.

"I'm there!" Donatello had managed to grasp a bunch of ropes with his left arm and was hanging from them. The ropes were fastened to the beam and he didn't risk falling. However, he was now entangled in them. He was going to need help to get free.

It was just his luck.

Leonardo leaned forward and extended his arm, ready to grab his brother's right wrist to pull him to safety. It was a move that they had practiced hundreds of times before, nothing that Donatello would have been concerned about under normal circumstances.

Except that the circumstances were anything but normal. His wrist was covered in green makeup. Donatello had made it water resistant so it wouldn't be wiped by sweat, but it could be rubbed away if Leonardo grabbed him.

"What's the matter, Donnie?" Leonardo's voice was strained. He expected Donatello to reach over, and when Donatello didn't, he could only think that his brother was injured.

"I…" Donatello closed his eyes, on the verge of tears. So close. He had been so close.

"Are you hurting? Can you give me your arm?"

Donatello wanted to answer that he was alright, but even if he hadn't injured himself in his fall, it was a lie too big to go past his lips. Without a word, he reached out and allowed Leonardo to pull him on the beam.

"I'm not injured," he whispered, and he was grateful for the lack of light.

Leonardo nodded and motioned for him to go forward. Donatello could feel his brother's gaze on his back, and knew that he was ready to catch him, should he loose his balance again.

To Donatello's utter relief, it didn't happen. They soon reached the other side of the large room, then its floor. They entered the next room, which was also empty.

Leonardo tapped his cheek with his fingers, thinking. "Where do you think they w- what's that?"

Donatello realized with horror that his brother was watching his hand in disbelief. He hid his own hands behind his back, as if it could delay the inevitable.

"Is that makeup?"

Donatello froze, unable to think of anything to do or say. He could almost see the wheels turning in Leonardo's brain, until his brother turned to him and grabbed his wrists, having realized where and when he could have gotten green makeup on his fingers.

That room was better lit than the previous one, and Donatello had no doubt that Leonardo could see the white spots on his skin as well as he did.

"Leo, I…"

"Donnie!" Leonardo's voice was a mere whisper. "What happened to you?"

Donatello had to grant it to his brother: he didn't lose his cool easily. Even though he had no doubt that Leonardo was freaking out inside, he was still keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings and not shouting at him like he certainly wanted to.

"Leo, please," Donatello begged. "I can't tell you anything."

Leonardo's eyes widened with incredulity, right before they narrowed to slits. "Why not? Donnie, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Donatello pulled his arms out of Leonardo's grasp.

"I can't," he whispered desperately, knowing perfectly well that Leonardo wouldn't be satisfied with this answer.

The sudden arrival of Michelangelo and Raphael gave him a brief respite.

"Hey, guys!" Raphael exclaimed. "You're too late, we've already found the Purple Dragons and…" He stopped when he saw Leonardo's expression. "What happened?"

"We're going home," Leonardo said through gritted teeth. "Now."

"Dude, you look like a ghost," Michelangelo told Donatello, not so subtly hinting at his probable paleness. "A green ghost… who would have sprayed white paint on himself. Uh. Why would you do that?"

"It's not paint, Mikey." Leonardo's voice was deadly calm.

"What?" Raphael frowned and came closer. He gasped when he realized what Leonardo was talking about. "What the shell, Donnie?"

"It's not paint?" Michelangelo put his hands on his mouth. "Is it shellacne, then?"

"It doesn't look like shellacne to me," Raphael observed. "Donnie?"

The slight note of panic in his voice sent a shiver down Donatello's spine. "Guys. It's nothing, you don't need to worry, I…" He shut up, realizing that he was rambling.

And tried desperately not to panic himself.

"Let's go," Leonardo instructed. "I'm sure Splinter will want to hear your story too."

So much for not panicking.

"What? Leo, you can't tell him!"

"I won't be telling him anything. I don't know anything, remember?"

Donatello bowed his head in shame, unable to look his brother in the eye.

"Donnie." Leonardo's voice was softer now. "I don't know what's happening, but we'll figure this out, okay? Together."

Donatello nodded without a word. He tried to process this new development while Leonardo was leading them out of the warehouse and into the night. This was worse than he had thought. He wouldn't be able to stand in front of his whole family and not tell them everything he knew. Maybe he should try to give them the slip while he still could.

"Don't even think about it." Raphael's calm voice crushed that last hope. His brother was running closer to him than normal.

Donatello had no doubt that he would jump on him if he had to. Besides, Michelangelo was running on his other side, and he was faster than Donatello. And even though Leonardo was ahead, Donatello was certain that his focus was on him, too.

It wouldn't have worked anyways. He had to send his reports to Irma. And what if they discussed his situation in the dojo, where she could spy on them? He couldn't have that.

As he began coughing again, attracting himself concerned looks from his brothers, he couldn't help thinking about how close he had been to follow through with his plan.

One day. It was all he needed. Had it been too much to ask for?