Cornered


The return to the lair was excruciating. Donatello could feel the weight of his brothers' concern on his shell, as much as their hurt for being left in the dark.

He kept his mind busy by thinking of lines of defense, ordering the sentences in his head until it could fool them - a little more time, just a little more time, that was all he needed - but everything he could think of didn't withstand close examination. What if he lost their truth for good by lying to them again? He knew what they would do. They would search high and low for an explanation to his behavior, and he had no doubt that a single day was more than enough for them to attract Irma's attention.

Which meant that he would have to tell them the truth. That was another problem entirely. How would they react? Would he manage to convince them to keep a low profile? They had to believe him. They had to trust his precarious plan. They had to, or the consequences would be too dire to be put in conscious thoughts.

It wasn't until they were almost home that he made a last attempt at escaping his fate.

"Guys, tomorrow I'll tell you everything. Please. Don't ask me anything tonight."

His mere whisper was enough to get his brothers' immediate attention. Their incredulous looks didn't bode well.

"Donnie, you have white spots on your skin. Last time I checked, it didn't belong to the panoply of the healthy good old mutant turtle." Raphael crossed his arms. "And I would even say," he added, his voice dripping with a sarcasm meant to cover his concern, "that you're perfectly aware of it. Or you wouldn't have tried to hide it with makeup."

Donatello bowed his head. It had been a desperate move that he didn't regret, even if it had failed miserably.

"I thought it was well done," Michelangelo interfered, as soothing as ever. "Except that, you know, you shouldn't have done it."

"Thank you, Mikey," Donatello muttered.

"I mean, that wasn't very clever," Michelangelo expanded. "What if you need medical attention? You're sick, and it looks really awful." His eyes widened. "Is it lethal and highly contagious?"

"No!" Donatello took a sharp breath that almost ended in another coughing fit. To be honest, he wasn't sure about the lethal part, but he was certain that it wasn't contagious. This was no epidemic - this was poisoning. Self-poisoning, to be precise. "You won't catch white spots on your skin, Mikey, I promise."

Mikey nodded, having no doubt that Donatello was saying the truth.

"How would you know that for sure?" Leonardo asked, suspicious.

Donatello bit his lip, reluctant to answer. "Because I know what caused this, and it's not contagious."

"And you didn't think to share that information?" Raphael's eyes were shining dangerously. Donatello could tell that he was making a huge effort not to explode.

"Guys, I can't. You have to trust me!" He thought bitterly that maybe it was too much to ask in the current situation.

"Donnie, you need help," Leonardo pleaded. "You're sick!"

Donatello fought his panic. He couldn't say that he hadn't seen it coming. He was no fool, he knew that it was only a matter of time before his family nosed in his business and took matters in hand. He had done his best to avoid it, and it was still happening. Well, he would face it like the courageous ninja he was, and not like the terrified teenager he also was.

There was one thing left to ask.

"In my lab. Let's do this in my lab, please, guys, you have to listen to me!"

If they refused, he was prepared to fight them on the spot. He didn't expect to win against the three of them, of course, but he hoped that it would give them a clue about how important it was.

"We want to listen to you, Donnie, you're the one who doesn't tell us anything," Leonardo replied, clearly frustrated. "Alright. We'll talk in your lab."

Donatello released his breath, immensely relieved.

As soon as they arrived at the lair, Leonardo headed for the dojo. "I'll tell Splinter."

"Don't make it sound like it's serious. Tell him we want to share a cake or something," Donatello pleaded in a conspirator's tone. He wasn't going to tell his brothers about the camera just yet. He didn't need them to freak out.

Leonardo looked at him as if he was going crazy. "A cake?"

"Leo, it's important. Please."

Leonardo nodded stiffly and left. Donatello led Raphael and Michelangelo to his lab and went for his desk. He sat down in his chair, trying to hide as much of himself as he could behind his laptop. He knew he didn't look good, and the bright lighting of his lab, so useful for his various experiments, did him no favors.

One minute later, Leonardo and Splinter joined them. His father looked concerned, but not overly worried. Donatello briefly wondered what Leonardo had told him, and if he had gone by the cake's scheme.

Now that he was facing his whole family, he felt oddly at peace. He had feared that discussion ever since he had come home with the vial, and now the fear was gone, replaced by numbness.

It didn't even look like a tribunal. Raphael was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Leonardo stood next to Splinter, his expression worried, and Michelangelo sat on the corner of Donatello's desk, ready to engulf him in a giant hug if need be.

"Donatello, my son. Leonardo told me that you wanted to share a cake with us?" Splinter's voice made clear that he didn't believe a word of it. He must be curious to know why Leonardo had told him that. Donatello felt grateful that his brother had kept his word, even though he hated lying to Splinter.

"Not exactly. The dojo..." Donatello hesitated and chose his next words carefully. He wanted them as neutral as possible to describe the situation with the best accuracy. "We can't talk in the dojo. It's being monitored."

Splinter turned to Leonardo, who had his mouth wide open in shock.

"Donnie didn't want me to tell you what was going on," he defended himself. "He was pretty upset. But I had no idea why." He shook his head. "Who would monitor our dojo?" he added, more to himself than to his father.

"So what is going on?" Splinter lifted an eyebrow.

In his corner behind Splinter's back, Raphael rolled his eyes. "If only we knew."

Splinter gave no sign that he had heard his son's comment, focusing on Donatello.

"Donatello?"

Donatello bit his lip, delaying the inevitable a few more seconds. He kept his hands on his knees, hidden behind the desk.

"Leonardo?" Splinter asked.

Donatello gave his brother one last begging look, hoping against all hope that he would shut up.

"Donnie's sick," Leonardo answered reluctantly, glaring at Donatello for letting him do the talking. Donatello glared back.

Splinter frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He has these white spots on his skin, and he covered them in makeup," Michelangelo supplied, feeling allowed to talk now that there was no going back.

If possible, Splinter's frown grew bigger. "Spots?"

Donatello didn't try to resist as his father came closer and delicately took his wrists in his hands. In his well-lit lab, the white spots looked ominous, and he grimaced.

"Donatello!" His father's grasp on his wrists tightened just a little. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Would you accept 'that's nothing' for an answer?" Donatello asked without much hope.

"No," the combined voices of his brothers and father chorused.

He sighed deeply. And to think that he loved to explain. Usually.

"First, you have to understand that your timing is very inconvenient."

"Oh, sorry. We should have let you keep doing who knows what to yourself."

"Raphael." Splinter gave his son a look.

Raphael mumbled something, looking fierce.

"Second, I want you to know that I'm fine… Mostly. I've been drinking tea, and it helped." He risked a quick glance Splinter's way.

His father stroked his beard. "So that's why my reserves were depleted. But these spots?"

"Are ugly, I'll admit it, but not…" He felt the coughing coming, and was unable to prevent it. He heard the sound of a ninja smoke bomb right before the cloud reached his eyes. A second later, Michelangelo was handing him a glass of water.

He gulped it with relief. "Thank you, Mikey." Seeing that his family was still waiting for his answer, he sighed. "I don't exactly know what these spots are, but they're not contagious, and shouldn't be too dangerous either…" He cut himself short and shook his head, suddenly too tired to sugarcoat the truth. "No, I don't know about that. Really, I have no idea."

"Do you know where they come from?" Splinter asked calmly, raising his hand to prevent an appalled Leonardo from talking.

"I do," Donatello admitted. "And if I tell you, maybe I'll have done all of this for nothing."

Splinter closed his eyes one brief instant.

"Please trust us, my son. We only want to help you."

Donatello bit his lip. Before he could change his mind and make it even harder on himself, he stood up and took the vial from his hiding place behind his extractor.

"This," he said in a trembling voice, showing it to them. "I'm taking this."

There, he was doing it. One step at a time. And nobody had died yet.

Michelangelo's eyes widened. "Are you on drugs?"

"No!" Donatello exclaimed, taken aback.

"Where did you find this?" Leonardo asked at the same time. "Did you... did you make it?"

"Of course not! Do you really think that I would just drink some random mixture I made?" Donatello replied hotly. He felt offended, and it didn't get better when Leonardo coughed and refused to meet his eye. "You do!" he accused.

"Can you blame him?" Raphael whispered from his corner.

Donatello threw his arms up. Anger was good. Anger blurred the fear and anxiety, and filled him with a short-lived strength. It would have to do.

"I'm not on drugs! I'm taking this because… because…" He rubbed his temples. "I'm being blackmailed," he explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?"

"Guys, not so loud, please," Donatello shushed them, sending a worried glance towards the door. Luckily Leonardo had closed it behind him when he had come inside, and it was a solid door, as sound-proof as possible.

"Well, you're not anymore," Raphael said suddenly, snatching the vial from Donatello's hand.

"Raph! Don't be stupid, I have to take another drop of that today!" Donatello said in dismay, realizing too late that it might not have been the best thing to tell his family.

"What? You're not going to keep drinking this, Dee, it looks evil!" Michelangelo protested. "And you know I never say that from food or drinks," he added as an afterthought.

Donatello gritted his teeth. "I. Have. To."

"Why, Donnie?"

"Promise me that you'll stay quiet," Donatello whispered. He waited until everybody in the room had nodded. "A week ago, I received a message from Irma."

"Irma? Like Kraang-Subprime Irma?" Michelangelo exclaimed, before quickly covering his mouth with his hand. "Oops, sorry, Donnie. Keep talking."

"She asked for a meeting, and gave me this. She wants me to take it in, and describe the effects to her. I discovered that she had left cameras in the lair, and removed them, except for one in the dojo…"

"I thought we were done with these Kraang," Raphael muttered.

"You mentioned blackmail," Splinter interjected, his hands tightening on his cane. "What did she threaten you with?"

"She…" He looked at each one of his brothers in turn. Now that he had gone that far, he could as well say everything. They needed to know why he had to go on with Irma's scheme. Even if it was bound to upset them… He braced himself. "She implanted a bomb in one of you."

There. It was out in the open. Donatello held his breath and waited for the inevitable uproar.

To his surprise, it didn't come. In the heavy silence that followed, he could see his brothers hesitate between mild surprise and incredulity.

"Uh, Donnie, and you believed it?" Michelangelo shook his head. "Dudes, does one of you remember being implanted with a bomb?"

"Nope," Raphael replied.

"Me neither," Leonardo added.

"My son. Are you saying that one of your brothers could die at any time?" Splinter's hands clung tighter to his cane.

Donatello felt oddly relieved that at least his father was taking his fears seriously. "I... Yes." He hung his head in utter defeat.

"And who would that be?"

"I... I have no idea." Donatello wrung his already abused wrists.

"So how would you know?"

"Irma told me. She sent me proof. But I don't know who it is." He watched his brothers desperately, begging them to understand. He would have yelled if he hadn't been terrified that he would be heard from the dojo and its fateful camera.

"And you didn't want to know?" Michelangelo asked. From his relaxed expression, Donatello could tell that he wasn't convinced.

"It's not Kraang tech, so I couldn't detect it like I did with the cameras," he explained.

"And what about a gold old metal detector? A non-Kraang metal detector?" Raphael suggested. He didn't seem to take the situation seriously either - at least not the part where somebody was carrying a bomb.

Donatello thought about it. "I guess it could work."

"Do you have that?" Splinter prodded.

"Of course I have that." Donatello almost managed to smile.

Everybody in the room held his breath as he retrieved the earthly item, a brown rectangle with a metallic loop on one of its sides.

Michelangelo gulped. "Here it goes," he said, bending forward until his head was under the detector.

"You don't need to be under it," Donatello pointed out in a poor attempt to release his tension. He switched on the device and waited for the familiar curve to appear.

The detector remained silent.

With a sigh of relief, Donatello smiled. "You're good, Mikey."

"Yeah!" Michelangelo smiled. "I told you, Dee."

Leonardo and Raphael shared a look.

"This is ridiculous. How could Irma have put a bomb in our body without us noticing?" Raphael huffed. In spite of himself, he was beginning to worry.

Leonardo came closer. "Let's get it over with. Donnie, if you would please...?"

Donatello nodded. Teeth gritted, he waved the detector around Leonardo's body.

Nothing.

"I don't believe any of it," Raphael said, stomping to take Leonardo's place. "But suit yourself, Donnie. You'll see that she tricked you."

Donatello prayed that it was the case and checked his brother, detector in hand...

It beeped next to Raphael's shoulder.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"I have a plan," Donatello said quickly, as shocked realization made its way across Raphael's features. "Tomorrow, there will be a magnetic storm. I hope that the connection between the bomb and Irma will be lost, and we'll be able to remove it from your body without you exploding, and…"

"I'm going to explode?" Raphael's voice sounded very childish, and Donatello felt his heart break.

Somewhere in a detached part of his mind, he acknowledged the irony of Raphael being at risk to explode - literally. He rejected the thought as soon as it occurred to him. Why couldn't his snarky brain give him a break for once? "No, no, of course not! I won't let it happen, Raph."

However, Raphael had come to another realization, and he wasn't listening. "I could kill you! Any moment, I could...I could... Stay away from me!"

Michelangelo, who had begun running towards him - probably for a bear hug - froze.

"Raphael, calm down!" Splinter interfered, and Donatello could only admire his self-control.

"How am I supposed to calm down?" Raphael looked at each of them in turn. "I'm putting you in danger!"

"I told you, I have a plan," Donatello said desperately. "I'll keep doing what Irma wants until tomorrow, and…"

"Donnie, I don't want you to keep drinking her mixture!" Raphael replied in a strained voice, the vial still in his hand. "Can't you see that..." He choked on the words he didn't dare to say. "Don't do that to yourself."

"Invent something," Michelangelo suggested, deadly serious. "Tell her you did drink it and describe a few side effects. I can help you if you're short of ideas."

"And what if she realizes it?" Donatello clenched his fists.

"She won't, not for one single time." Leonardo nodded, determined. "Don't you think for one second that we'll let you keep poisoning yourself."

Donatello closed his eyes tight to keep the tears at bay. "I would rather not take that risk."

"But I will, and that's my body we're talking about," Raphael replied. "I'll take your word, Donnie. When is this magnetic storm you've been talking about?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Alright." Raphael drew in a short breath. "I'll see you tomorrow night, then."

"Wait, what?" Donatello replied, immediately suspicious. "What do you mean?"

Raphael shrugged. "I can't stay with you. It's too dangerous, and I trust no Kraang."

"Where do you want to go?" Leonardo asked calmly, having apparently already guessed where his brother was going.

Donatello shook his head wildly, refusing to let his mind wander in that direction.

"The docks," Raphael whispered. "I'll stay in the water. Don't try to track me, guys."

"We won't." Leonardo smiled to him. "Keep your T-Phone with you, okay? And call us every hour."

Raphael smirked, a pale reflection of one of his favorite expressions. "No promises. And keep an eye on Donnie for me. Don't let him drink another drop of this wretched mixture, okay? Maybe I should take it with me."

"We will," Leonardo promised, and Michelangelo nodded vigorously.

Donatello found his voice again. "I'm not done investigating it," he warned. "It could prove crucial to my... recovery." He averted his eyes, not willing to see his father's expression at these words.

Raphael grimaced and handed it over to him. "Fine, you keep it."

"Good luck, my son," Splinter whispered. "We'll see each other again soon."

"Sure thing, Sensei." With a sharp bow, Raphael left them.

Donatello watched him depart, unable to find anything to say to hold him back.

Raphael, so desperate to protect them.

Exactly like him.