Author's Note: I'd just like to thank Cynlee for helping me with this fic and answering all my annoying questions about the various TMNT versions. ;) Thanks once again.
Chapter Two: The Condition.
Donatello gasped in shock, shaking his body out of unconsciousness. His eyes snapped open, his mind whirled with confusion, trying to gain some bearings. Don felt like he had only been knocked out for an instant – the panic and adrenaline were still racing around his body. Yet that was the reason why he was so incredibly baffled. His eyes darted around the room his was in, causing Donatello to quickly realise that minutes, possibly hours must have passed, as he couldn't recognise his surroundings at all. Registering that thought, Don really began to freak out. Where was he? It definitely wasn't any place located within their sewer lair. More importantly, where were his brothers?
Calming down only slightly so that his more rational thoughts could finally push their way into his brain, Don started to properly observe his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was how comfortable the floor was. It was cushioned and gray, however it was firmer than the white walls. That was when it dawned on him. He was sitting in a corner of a padded cell. Looking to his left, out towards the center of the room, only one item occupied the empty space; a single sized bed complete with leather straps. Donatello's eyes widened at the sight, clasping a hand over his mouth in order to physically stop himself from making any involuntary sounds. However, Donatello could never prepare himself for what he discovered next.
Five fingers. There were five human fingers on his human hand. Moving his hand away from his mouth, Donatello started to breathe rapidly. The panicking feeling that he had experienced before was quickly returning. Stunned, Don noted his ten toes. It was just like his dream. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, just wishing the nightmare away. When he opened them again, nothing had changed. Don pinched himself, then slapped. He was still there.
Donatello started to cry out, just wanting any form of attention whether it was from his family or an enemy. He struggled to his feet, though he soon discovered that he needed to lean against the wall in order to balance himself. His legs trembled under his weight, feeling weak and quite lethargic, as though he hadn't used them in a few days, possibly weeks. Striving to stay upright, Donatello once again looked over his human body. It was all too much for him. Don started to scream hysterically, shuddering and moving back into the corner of the padded cell. There was no other explanation; either it was all real, or it was a dream that he couldn't escape from. His fingers started to feel slightly clammy while his vision began to darken. Don gasped, knowing that he was going into shock. Finally he saw a familiar face staring at him through the cell door's little window.
With an extremely worried expression on her face, April unlocked the door and ran straight over to the panicking human. "Danny! Danny, are you alright?" April questioned. Her hands grabbed Donatello's shoulders before gently pushing him back down to the floor, just hoping that the man wouldn't faint on her. Don was just relieved to see someone else.
"April! April, what's going on?" Donatello shakily asked. "I'm, I'm human!" Don shuddered, sitting in the corner, staring wildly at his unusual hands.
"It's okay, it's okay," April tried her best to calm him down. The woman withdrew a small flashlight from her lab coat pocket before shining the tiny light in Don's eyes.
"What are you doing? April, where am I? Where's Leo?" Donatello continued to panic, getting worried by April's unusual actions.
"Leo's not here," the woman stated simply.
"I must be dreaming…" Don muttered, more to himself than to April.
"No… Actually, it's more like you just woke up," April said, responding to Donatello's babbles.
"Woke up? April, what are you talking about? I'm human! This isn't real! …It can't be real!" Don denied, vigorously shaking his head as though he would suddenly snap out of the horrible nightmare. "…This must have to do with that injection…" Don muttered, trying his best to make sense of the situation. April, meanwhile, started to check his heart rate.
"The injection? Of course it's to do with that injection. That stimulant is the reason why you're awake now, Danny," April explained, almost humouring and belittling him with her tone of voice. Donatello frowned at her answer. Finally taking his focus elsewhere, Don realised that April was wearing a lab coat. Her name was printed as a shiny golden badge, pinned to one of her breast pockets. Her hair wasn't the colour it usually was, however while it was obvious that April was a natural redhead, it looked like she was ashamed of that fact and tried to dye it a number of other colours over her lifetime, leaving remnants of her past experiences behind in streaks and left over pieces that hadn't faded or grown out yet. Looking at what she was doing, Donatello started to shy away from April's rather intrusive inspection.
"April?" Don uttered. "Stop touching me and tell me what's happening already!" The man demanded, suddenly snapping.
"Danny, it's okay! Just calm down a little bit…"
"Calm down?" Donatello was hysterical. "And why do you keep calling me that?"
"Calling you what?"
"Danny!"
"Because that's your name," April answered simply. Donatello was taken aback by her statement. So overwhelmed by all the confusion, a few tears started to swell up in Don's eyes.
"My name's Donatello," Don croaked, not knowing why one of his best friends had suddenly forgotten such an important detail. April sighed and stared at his face. Looking into her eyes as well, Don discovered that the woman wasn't angry, concerned or even complacent. Rather, April just seemed tired, as though she was sick of repeating herself.
"You really don't remember, do you?" April asked softly though her words remained firm.
"Remember what?" Don wondered. April just sighed in response.
Donatello simply felt numb as the next few minutes scooted by. April had called in a few interns before leaving the room herself. As the assistants helped him to stand up, Donatello couldn't shake the feeling that he recognised some of the people. He could have sworn that some of the interns were Purple Dragon members, yet Don tried his best to shrug the nagging feeling away, just convincing himself that he was wrong, especially when he hadn't seen those flunkies in ages and could simply be mistaken. After all, it made no sense whatsoever for April to be working with the Purple Dragons. Then again… nothing did seem to make sense.
Donatello didn't say a word as he was gently led out of his room and down a corridor. Staring around at his environment, Don instantly guessed he was in that observational research facility he had dreamed about previously. Yet as he walked past other rooms containing padded cells, Don started to think that maybe he wasn't in a lab as such, but rather a mental institution, which obviously sent billions of questions circling around his mind in a matter of seconds. After understandably pondering his own sanity, Don was about to enter another bout of hysterics when suddenly he was taken inside an office. April was already inside waiting for him. "Please have a seat," April invited with a warm smile, gesturing towards a chair situated on the opposite side of her desk. As Donatello warily stepped forwards, his weak legs suddenly gave way, causing him to plunk down onto the seat instead of sitting more gracefully. Seeing that everything was alright, the interns stepped out of the room but still remained close by obviously for protection. But who or what were they guarding? Don's whole body shook, becoming rather frightened by his own lack of understanding.
Still seeking answers, Don stared at April. It was a simple office with a large window, and judging by the view, Don guessed he was on the third or fourth floor. The furnishings were rather plain - a pot plant in the corner; a filing cabinet on the side; a big mahogany desk with two chairs either side in the center; while cheap paintings (which Donatello thought were rather kitsch) and diplomas were strewn stereotypically across the back wall. The man furrowed his eyebrows when he read some of April's qualifications. '…I didn't know April had a Masters in psychology…' Don couldn't help but think to himself.
Donatello remained silence as he watched April pull out a manila folder that was almost bursting with sheets of paper. "…April?" Don timidly asked.
"Hmm," she hummed, focusing all of her attention on the file as she casually flicked through the sheets.
"…Do you have a mirror?"
"Yeah, sure!" April obliged. Forgetting the folder for a second, she leaned to one side, fished through her purse, before pulling out a little mirror that was obviously intended to be used when applying makeup. All of a sudden her expression turned serious. "I hope you're ready for this," April stated grimly as she questioningly handed the man the small reflective object. Donatello instantly gasped. He didn't know what shocked him more, the fact he looked Japanese-American, or that he wasn't exactly a teenager. Just judging by his appearance, Don guessed that he was at the very least in his late twenties, though he knew it would be more around the thirty to forty year old mark. Taking a closer look, Don noted that his teeth were a dull yellow colour while his black hair was scruffy and uncombed, basically making him realise that he needed to take better care of himself. Slightly troubled by what he saw, Donatello timidly leaned forward and placed the mirror reflective-side down onto the desk, so that he wouldn't have to view himself again.
"What happened to me?" Don whispered, still rather shocked about the whole situation. April sighed, finally lifting her eyes away from the large confines of all the paperwork.
Even though she knew he was referring to other events, April exhaustedly knew that she would have to explain things from scratch once again. "Simply put, you're schizophrenic," she said rather frankly, giving Don the impression that he should have already known that little fact.
"What?" Donatello exclaimed. "Schizophrenic?"
"It's quite an interesting case of schizophrenia as well. You have quite a history," April added, tapping Donatello's obese medical file with one of her fingers, displaying just how complex his condition was.
"No! This, this can't be!" Don said in disbelief. "April, what about that injection Dr Chaplin gave me? You know the one I told you about?" he started to ramble, still trying to find a plausible solution for everything that had happened to him.
"Dr Chaplin? …Interesting," April murmured with a raised eyebrow, quickly jotting something down in her notes.
"What! What's interesting?" Donatello was getting frustrated.
"Well, Dr Chaplin is one of the new scientists that has been hired. He's only been working here for about a month… and it's amazing that you've incorporated him already!" April remarked. Don gave her a deeply confused look. "You're really missing the point, aren't you?" April asked, using her belittling tone once again.
"What point?"
April sighed. "This is not the first time I've told you this. You've heard the story about your mental problems before, numerous times… but I guess nothing is really sticking, is it?" April said rhetorically.
"April… what are you talking about?" Donatello asked very slowly, now being fairly suspicious.
April casually flicked through the documents once again. "I'm talking about your mental condition. Danny… you're not a turtle. Your brothers, Splinter, Shredder," April glanced down at the papers, trying to find more examples. "…Leatherhead, Ninjara, you get the idea. None of them exist. It's all just part of this fantasy world you have created," the woman bluntly summarised.
"…This doesn't make any sense…" Don mumbled.
"That's what you always say," April muttered to herself.
"But… you said none of them exist. Then how come you're real? …And who on earth is Ninjara?" Donatello wondered, taking on a rather angry tone.
"The reason why your case is so difficult to treat is because you incorporate people from real life into your fantasy. In the end, you perfectly blend both reality and fiction and create something that stands in-between," April summarised.
"So my brothers aren't real?" Donatello couldn't believe the words that were being uttered from April's lips.
"No. You don't have any brothers."
"What? So I just made them up?" Donatello argued, still not accepting the woman's story. "They can't be fake! Why would I dream up something like that?"
"To be honest, we're not really sure. Some of the other scientists studying your case suggest that you invented your three brothers because you desired the need for people to relate to you. However, I personally believe that your brothers are simply just different fragments of yourself. You see, as a teenager, you were a bright, intelligent young man who wanted to be recognised. That's why we feel that you envisioned or rather fantasised about being a super-hero. Yet you were also quite a shy boy, which is probably why you chose to dream about being a mutant, so that you could be unique, a hero and a recluse at the same time. Natually there was a problem with your fantasy, as while you enjoyed daydreaming about your ideas for inventions, what I believe is that eventually your mind became bored, or rather repressed, as your other emotions such as anger and happiness weren't released as part of your mind's character. So you started to create a support network for your ultimate pseudonym; a set of brothers that could both endorse your envisioned livelihood, while also allowing your mind to exert its other emotions. That was probably when things became critical. Early on you also designed a father figure, Splinter, which probably originated from your desire to have a kind and understanding dad. Your mind then just kept on creating new people, new places, non-existent problems and even enemies. Eventually you had set up a whole other world, and by then your condition had grown so complex that you really became lost within your own mind," April retold the story.
"So if it's so difficult, then why aren't I on any medication? I've read that a lot of schizophrenics can recover just from popping a few pills," Donatello heavily criticised, not giving her the benefit of the doubt.
"Oh trust me, you are. We've been giving you injections and tablets for years as part of your treatment. It may not seem like it to you, but they work. You always come out of your fantasy. Though for some reason, once you finally become part of this world again, the medication seems to stop taking effect, and eventually your mental condition worsens again," April calmly explained the problem her and the other scientists faced.
"Well if all this is true, then how come I don't remember any of this?" Donatello continued to debate.
"Danny, please don't get angry with me. I'm only trying to help you," April said, giving him a little frown. Donatello looked away and fell silent, not really knowing what to think anymore. His gut instinct instructed him not to believe a word the woman said, and yet underneath everything there was this burning curiosity to hear and learn more. If everything in his world was fake, then what was out there? His indecision on what to believe caused Donatello to visibly shake all over. He brought his ill-kept, chipped fingernails to his teeth and proceeded to bite them, initiating a habit he didn't even know he had.
April gave the man a sorrowful look, just knowing how difficult it was for him to make the adjustment. She kept going anyway, figuring that it was best for him to hear everything first, even though it may come as a giant shock to his system. "As for your question… that is the exact reason why your condition is so unique. You have the ability to… I suppose, 'reset' your fantasy world."
"Reset?" Don only became more and more confused, but wanted to hear more nevertheless.
"You can wipe things from your memory; repress it so badly that it basically becomes forgotten entirely. Some things remain, but a lot of the finer details are lost."
"…What finer details?" Don dared to ask. April simply sighed once again.
"I guess I should really start from the beginning," the female admitted. Don watched as April flipped the enormous folder to the front. He continued to stare at her as she slowly glanced through his entire file, flicking through the pages as she went along. "We suspect that your schizophrenia started upon the onset of puberty. You had a lot of problems in your life, so when you first imagined this other world that you mentally escaped to, it was filled with angst and was fairly dark, mainly because you tried to deal with the issues that were effecting you in real life. You were admitted to this institution, and after some in-depth treatment, you finally snapped out of it. Thinking you were fine, you were released and eventually taken off the medication," April started her story. Her expression became solemn.
"But you hadn't completely forgotten the other world. Taking just the basic people you had imagined the first time, you wiped the slate clean and proceeded to start again, this time unknowingly making your world more light-hearted; an attitude which you subconsciously felt your original fantasy lacked. This was when we discovered how serious your condition really was. You were in a catatonic state for most of your teenage years, just completely static as you daydreamed away, only occasionally moving around when you entered a more interactive state of mind; talking to yourself, moving in conjunction with what you thought you saw. We tried to help you, but you just simply incorporated the psychiatric ward staff into your hallucination," April summarised, still flicking through the many pages of observation notes.
"You eventually pulled through and you came back to us again. Yet it wasn't long till you went backwards, scrapping your fantasy and altering it once more. But this time I think you remembered the truth of your condition. Your body had become very weak from being underused, so subconsciously your brain wanted you to get healthy again. So what happened was that you inadvertently made the conclusion that if there was nothing for you to return to in your dream world, then you would start being able to tell what was reality and what was fantasy. So you attacked the beings that you held dear the most; chopping off one of your brother's hands, and poking out the eye of another. You even attempted to give your envisioned character, Donatello, a heroic end; battling in a helicopter before plummeting to your death. But that's the problem. Your fantasy is so complex that even when your imaginary friendship safety network breaks down, there's always a loophole. This time you quickly improvised a solution by continuing to live through combining your body with a cyborg," April said.
"The next instance was when things really became interesting from a scientific point of view. You started off your fantasy again, keeping your main, basic network of familial relationships, yet this time you inserted and rewrote your entire imagined history by inserting a female, sister-like persona. But that caused a few problems, didn't it?" April rhetorically asked, looking up from all the paperwork. "We suspect that you designed her, Venus I think you called her, out of your own feelings of loneliness. However you couldn't decide where she fitted amongst the rest of your emotions, that is, your brothers. Eventually you grew sick of the idea of wanting any romantic company, so you fought and internally struggled with this character you had invented. In the end, you completely scrapped the idea, wiped her from your memory, then started afresh, adopting your original angst-ridden hallucination and worked your way from there. Again you tried to rid yourself from this imaginary world; destroying your entire family and your main enemies, leaving only yourself and what you had incorporated from me. Yet once again there was a loophole - you didn't snap out of your catatonic state, blaming everything instead on an alternative futuristic dimension," April concluded her long tale, finally flicking through to the end of Donatello's medical file.
"This can't be true! I would never intentionally hurt my family," Donatello protested, quite shocked by everything he had heard.
"You don't. That's the beauty of it. As I said, there always seems to be a loophole that prevents you from waking back up from your hallucination. Usually you blame it as something to do with time travel, nightmares, alternative dimensions, and other weird anomalies. There's always something to pull you back, whether it's a message one of your brothers have sent to you through meditation, a magical spell, or the threat of your imaginary enemies where you have unfinished business to attend to. And when things don't go to plan, you just simply wipe your memory and start again. There's no end to it. I know I should keep a positive outlook, but honestly I feel that your condition will just demise once again, as you'll make up some reason, no matter how unbelievable it is; just anything that will convince you to return to your fantasy," April muttered, displaying how disheartened she had become with Donatello's case.
"…So I've been like this for years? …How old am I?" Don timidly asked.
"Thirty-four," April said. Donatello held his breath for a moment just to digest that fact.
"How can I trust you? How do I know that you're telling me the truth?" Don warily asked, still skeptical.
"Well trusting people isn't exactly a schizophrenic's most prized attribute," April cynically replied. Donatello looked at his hands once again, shaking involuntarily as he thought over everything he had listened to.
"I heard that he finally woke up. I had to see it for myself in order to believe it," another psychologist said as he walked into April O'Neil's office. Noticing the other doctor, Donatello let out a surprised, terrified yelp, causing him to fall off his chair.
"Danny!" April called out in fright, worried that the man might have hurt himself. Donatello, although physically weak, started to scramble away, eyes locked onto the intruder. It was Baxter Stockman. Yet the mad scientist wasn't a brain in a jar, nor was he a giant block of walking metal with a holographic head. Instead, Stockman was flesh and bone with no abnormalities or faults. "Danny, it's alright!" April tried to calm Don down, rushing to his side as an attempt to comfort him.
"April! That's Stockman! Stockman!" Don cried out, becoming hysterical.
"Danny, it's okay!" April repeated, raising her voice over his panicking calls. "You incorporated him into your fantasy, remember? He's not who you think he is," the woman explained.
"But he's evil!"
"He's not!" April yelled.
"She's right, Danny. I'm not here to harm you," Stockman said, stepping forward. Donatello scrambled back another few feet. Stockman sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't be here right now."
"He can't cope with everything all at once. It might be best if you talk to him later," April advised her coworker. Stockman nodded before taking his leave, realising that it was too soon to be seeing, let alone speaking to Donatello, especially when Don had perceived and incorporated the scientist into his fantasy, playing the role of an enemy.
"I think it might be best if we took you back to your room," April suggested, giving the Japanese-American man a gentle, kind smile. "We'll call your father to tell him that you've finally woken up. Hopefully he'll be able to visit you soon."
"My father?" Don questioned, suddenly wondering what other relatives he had in this weird, clinical world.
"But we'll worry about that later," April said, before grunting in effort as she helped Donatello back into his seat in front of her desk. "Right now it's time to take your medication. Since you're active, we can start you back on some more of the pills; you never were a fan of needles," April commented before walking towards the doorway of her office, poking her head out into the corridor and asking an intern a favour. Walking back to lean on her desk, resting beside Don, the two of them waited in silence for a minute. The intern entered a little while later, carrying a small childproof bottle and a plastic cup filled with water, obviously taken from a water cooler that was located somewhere along the corridor or within another office. Receiving what she had ordered, April, with little difficulty, popped open the small white bottle and shook out two pills. She handed them to Don along with the cup of water. "Swallow these," April said, though it was more of a command.
Donatello stared at the two capsules in his human hand, just wondering what they were for. Like he had been told, he gently placed them in his mouth at the same time and took a large gulp of water. April raised an eyebrow. "Open your mouth," she requested. Don stared at her for a few seconds before finally obliging. Nothing could be seen. "Lift up your tongue." Once again Don followed orders, and still nothing was found. Pleased, April gave the man another one of her pleasant smiles. "Okay, it's time to go back to your room."
Being helped once again by the oddly familiar interns, within minutes Donatello was sitting back in the same place he had woken up. He didn't like the bed – the leather straps just made him feel uneasy and uncomfortable, while the corner of the room seemed to be more private. As soon as everyone left, Don quietly spat out the two pills. He had hidden them at the top of his mouth, squashed up right against his back molars and the gums of his top lip. Trying not to be too conspicuous, Don snapped open the capsules, tipped out the white powdery substance, before swallowing the empty shells in order to hide the rest of the evidence. Don didn't trust them, whoever they were - not yet at any rate.
The minutes ticked by, but Don thought the time had passed quickly because of how busy his mind was, thinking about what was the truth. Donatello sighed and rested his head against the padded wall, just wondering what he was going to do. His whole body jumped in shock when he noticed a familiar person standing in the diagonally opposite corner of his room. "Donny?" Leo said, confused at the sight before him.
"Leo! Boy, am I glad to see you!" Donatello called out, a wide grin spread across his face. Suddenly he became confused; the elation of his brother's appearance dissipated. "How… how did you get in here?" Don was baffled, wondering if this was a rescue attempt.
"You're in a coma, Don," Leo said simply. Donatello gave him a worried look.
"When? How?" Don uttered.
"During your sparring match with me, you… blacked out," Leonardo explained, quite concerned. "Master Splinter told me to contact you through meditation," Leo said. Don watched as his brother stopped talking, taking just a moment to observe his surroundings. "What is this place, Donny?" Leo asked, quite worried with what he was seeing.
"I wish I knew," Donatello whispered, also becoming terrified of the world he was in.
"We need you to wake up, Don. Everyone's worried about you," Leo said.
"But how? How do I come out of this coma?"
"Just close your eyes and concentrate. We're all here with you… Just concentrate," Leonardo calmly instructed. Donatello sighed and slowly closed his eyes, thinking about the home and the world he knew so well, along with his desire to see his loved ones again…
To be continued…
