Chapter Three: Theory.

Exhaling, eyes closed, Donatello took a moment to admire the sheer quietness of his external environment. Pure silence was such a rare treat. Having a scientific mind, Don always wondered if this was the closest that he could ever get to understanding what nothingness was. Yet, ironically, silence was deafening. So was there something? The philosophical trance he had entered quickly disappeared when he thought he heard someone else's breath. Thinking back to the astral projected image of Leo he had encountered, Don wondered if it was indeed him he was listening to, if non-physical beings did need to respire, or whether he had concentrated enough to come out of his so-called coma altogether. Feeling ready, Donatello gradually opened his eyes.

He was stunned at what he saw. It wasn't just Leo in his room, but instead his entire family. Don smiled, realising that he had underestimated their stealth, which had been fine-tuned since they were youngsters. Michelangelo, Raphael and Splinter stood by his bedside. Leo, however, sat in a lotus position by the door to his room, finally opening his eyes as well. The two turtles locked eyes for an instant, causing Leonardo to grin with pride and success. "I guess it worked!" Leo chimed.

"Donny!" Mike gabbled, plunging his arms around Donatello's shoulders as though he couldn't keep his relieved emotions under control.

"Careful, Mikey! He doesn't want your cooties," Raphael wryly commented, acting macho as usual. Sniffling slightly from the spontaneous bombardment of emotions, Mike nodded, blushed slightly in embarrassment because of his outburst, before finally standing back upright to allow his sick brother some space. Seeing the purple-wearing turtle more clearly, Raph caught Donatello's gaze. The gruff reptile gave him a little nod as a greeting. "Miss me?" Raph asked with a smirk. Don's grin deepened while he jokingly rolled his eyes.

By this time Leonardo had made his way to Don's bedside, standing next to the others. "So… what happened to me?" Donatello finally asked, discovering how dry his lips were when he spoke.

"You fell into a coma," Splinter calmly reported, placing a gentle, assuring hand upon his son's.

"During the sparring match? Like what Leo said to me in that…" Donatello trailed off. What exactly was that place?

"It seemed liked you went into a seizure or something. We were fearing the worst," Leonardo said, his concern being carried by his tone of voice.

"So you actually communicated with Leo? In your dream?" Mike questioned.

"I didn't know that Leo was psychic… Maybe that's why his head's so big," Raph stated, never missing a chance to debunk his rival. Leonardo simply rolled his eyes at Raph's comment.

"You know, if you had any patience, you would quickly learn all of the benefits to meditation. Then again, even if you did practice it more often, your mind's so thick that your soul is incapable of crossing any spiritual boundaries," Leonardo replied, adding a nasty remark to the end of it.

"Enough!" Splinter intervened; halting the conversation before Raphael could refute his brother's wild claim. Shocked by the volume of their master's voice, Leo and Raph glanced at the wise rat, then lowered their gaze when they realised that it was an incredibly inappropriate time to be exchanging snide remarks. "Are you feeling better now, Donatello?" Splinter kindly asked, quickly adjusting his tone of voice from the one he had just used on the two quarreling turtles.

"I, I think so," Don mumbled, though it was clear to everyone that he was still terribly confused about some things. The others couldn't help but wonder why he held such a perplexed expression; apart from Leonardo, they thought it was fairly simple and incontestable as to what had happened to Donatello.

"You don't look so good," Raphael said rather bluntly, being his brutally honest self as per usual.

"Really?" Don worried, raising his hands to his face as though he wanted to hide any embarrassing unattractive faults. Leo gave Raph a sharp glare, hinting that the red-wearing turtle should just keep his mouth shut and his tongue on a short leash. Yet Leonardo knew what Raphael meant; although Donatello said that he felt fine, he still looked highly stressed and tired, almost drained. The blue-wearing turtle figured that some of it might have been affiliated with Don's fragile mental state, which caused Leo to remember what he had seen when he had crossed over into Donatello's psychological realm.

"Don… What exactly was that place? Do you know?" Leonardo asked his question a second time, wondering if his brother now knew the answer considering that he had regained consciousness.

"I'm not too sure what to make of it," Don answered honestly, his mind wandering back to the 'nightmare' he had… that is, if it was fictional.

"So… Can you remember the dream you had when you were your coma?" Michelangelo asked out of curiosity, intrigued to discover if there was any difference between that and dreams occurring under normal circumstances. Splinter sighed, knowing where the conversation would lead. For the second time, the short, gray-furred mammal decided to interfere.

"Come, my sons. I do believe that we should leave Donatello now so that he can get some more rest," Splinter suggested. Nodding slightly in acknowledgment, the conversation ended abruptly as everyone slowly vacated the room in accordance to their father's wishes. "Rest well," Splinter wished, before lastly exiting Don's bedroom.

It was eerie being alone once again. Donatello knew he needed time to think through everything that had happened to him; just to categorise and file his thoughts into neat little piles of what was false and what was the honest truth. But that was easier said than done. At first he hadn't even doubted Leo's spiritual presence when he was confined in that bleak padded cell, but after allowing some time to recall everything that April – well, if that was April at all – had spoken of, nothing was truly that black and white anymore. In the end, Don couldn't toss aside what he had known all of his life for some theory he had only heard that day. Yet the doubt was still there, even though at that point in time he tended to trust his family a lot more than those shady scientists.

The fact that doubt resided in his mind wasn't the only thing that bothered him. What was more frightening was how real everything seemed. From the smells to the sounds, it all felt utterly believable, and Don had trouble comprehending how all of that could have possibly been just some weird dream he experienced because of his coma. He could even recall how the padded walls felt under the tips of his fingers and the coldness of the floor. His throat felt slightly uncomfortable from when he had swallowed the empty plastic shells of his tablets, but how could that be? Surely a mere dream couldn't be that real?

Eventually getting tired, Donatello sighed and closed his eyes, deciding that he needed more rest. He shuddered almost immediately. The harsh whiteness of that padded cell had burned into his eyes, as though he could envision the place when his eyelids were closed. The image gradually faded, and Don could finally achieve the rest he needed. Yet his sleep was fitful. Scared that he would somehow travel back to that mental institution without even knowing, Don often opened his eyes, just to check that he was still tucked in his bed in his quiet sewer home. One time when he snapped awake, he found Splinter sitting on the foot of his bed, just staring intently to make sure his son was okay. Donatello gave the old rat a smile, grateful that such a warm and calming familiar face was there to comfort him if needed.


It was lunch time when Donatello finally awoke. The turtle drowsily rubbed his tired eyes as Michelangelo kindly offered to make a sandwich for him. Raphael, Leonardo and Master Splinter all sat around the kitchen table, staring at Don as they munched on their food. The purple-wearing turtle let out a small yawn and sulked slightly in his seat. "Gees, you've been asleep for hours and you're still tired!" Raphael commented.

"Didn't you sleep well?" Leo inquired, making the same observations as his hotheaded brother.

"Not really," Don mumbled, trying his best to hold back another yawn.

"Bad dreams?" Leo wondered, before taking the final bite of his sandwich.

"No… I didn't have any nightmares… but I guess I was just worried that I would have another one," Don sighed.

"Are they really that scary?" Mike asked as he buttered the toast that had just popped out of the toaster.

"I'm not really sure 'scary' is the right word…"

"Then what's it like?" Mike questioned further, incredibly curious. Donatello remained silent, wondering if he should reveal the details of the mental institution. Splinter noticed his indecision and pained expression.

"If it is deeply bothering you, Donatello, then it might be wise to talk about it. Sometimes dreams are metaphors for your own problems in life, while other times they are just jumbled up thoughts. Maybe if you expressed what happened in your dreams, then that might make the solution or answer more clear," Splinter quietly suggested, urging his son to speak, as even he was curious as to what the boy's visions had been about.

Donatello contemplated his Master's words, then took in a deep, calming breath in preparation. "I dreamt that I was human; a Japanese-American middle-aged man to be exact. Things is, I'm a patient in a mental institution, where all this…" Don widely gestured towards the entire lair, before finally continuing. "All this, is simply some kind of wild fantasy I made up in my mind. Apparently you guys don't even exist… Crazy, huh?" Don muttered, giggling at first to make it seem as though the whole situation and idea was rather humorous, but he quickly lost his grinning expression, replacing it swiftly with one of seriousness. No one else really found it funny.

"So what's the metaphor? We're all invisible to Donny because Donny's self-centered?" Raphael snidely remarked. The others were unsure how to interpret Raph's statement, as they couldn't tell if Raph was announcing one of his usual sarcastic joking remarks or whether he was actually offended by Don's small tale.

"Do you believe this?" Splinter asked. Donatello could tell that the mutant rat was having difficulties in comprehending how the turtle was feeling.

"…Of course not," Don replied, yet there was a small pause before his words.

"Gees, don't answer too quickly," Raphael rolled his eyes.

"It was just really convincing at the time, that's all," Don mumbled, staring at his hands as he absentmindedly scratched a blob of dried food off the table's surface. He didn't want to look anyone in the eyes, quite ashamed of what he had been thinking about.

"Was it like that human dream you had before?" Mike asked as he delivered Don his sandwich, referring to the conversation that the two of them had shared previously.

"Yeah… But unlike last time, I couldn't wake myself up."

"That's probably because you were in a coma," Leonardo, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, finally piped up.

"What was so convincing about this dream?" Splinter asked, only trying to understand Donatello's situation better.

"I don't know… Everything, like the smells, tastes, sounds… I just felt like I was there, for real. Then there was everything that April told me-"

"-April was there?" Mike interrupted.

"Yes, but not the April we know. She was different somehow… but also the same… It's kind of hard to explain. Anyway, she told me that I was schizophrenic and that I was combing reality and fiction into my fantasy. So some people and events exist, but others don't," Donatello explained slowly, holding a pensive expression on his face as though he was still trying to sort all the details out in his mind.

"So does the Shredder exist?" Michelangelo curiously questioned.

"I don't think so," Don answered.

"Karai?" Mike asked again.

"No."

"Klunk?"

"Michelangelo!" Splinter barked, wanting the orange-wearing turtle to stop with his unnecessary questions. It was obvious to everyone else that the issue was to be treated seriously, and not simply some form of entertainment.

"I guess it just threw me off guard. I mean, when you think about it, being teenage mutant ninja turtles who live in the sewer, fighting evil crime lords, mystical beings and aliens… It just sounds so stupid!" Don realised. In a blur of rapid movement, Raphael jumped out of his seat, leaned towards his purple-wearing brother and punched him hard just below one of his shoulders. Don was too stunned to react at first, but the pain from the blow quickly followed. "Ow! What the shell?" Donatello yelled, cradling his bruised arm with his other hand.

"Did it hurt?" Raphael snarled.

"Of course it did, you lunatic!" Don bellowed back.

"Then it must have been real!" Raphael argued. "Don't you dare say those things, Don! Don't you dare act like that again! I've known you all my life, and it's a bloody insult that you can even consider such a stupid idea! You may be smart Don, but lately I've been wondering if you're starting to lose it a bit!" Raphael growled.

"Shut up, Raph!" Leonardo finally defended his victimised brother. "You don't understand!"

"Understand what, Leo? Have you been listening to what he's been saying? He's fucking purple Fruit Loop!"

"Enough!" Splinter raised his voice, standing up from his seat. The quarreling turtles immediately ceased their bickering. There was silence.

"What I saw… It was very confronting. I'm not sure if that was some ordinary dream," Leonardo quietly finished what he was originally going to say.

"Then what was it?" Raph asked, though his voice remained low and somewhat threatening.

"Maybe it was to do with that injection Donny got in Chaplin's lab?" Leo suggested.

"That's what I've been thinking… But why would Dr Chaplin want to make me imagine things like this? What's the purpose?" Don timidly questioned, not wanting to get into another fight.

"I don't know… But you've only started having these 'human' dreams after the injection, right?" Leo was trying to figure everything out, especially when Don didn't seem mentally fit enough to come to any conclusions by himself.

"…Now that I think about it… Yeah," Don said.

"Then it has to be related to the injection," Leo concluded.

"Dr Chaplin said it was in preparation for something… What would he mean by that?" Don pondered.

"…I don't know… But maybe those disks we collected might contain some information on the Shredder's experiments as well. The answer might be on there. Otherwise we'll have to visit that lab again and see if there's a cure for it or something," Leonardo said.

"Have those disks been cracked yet?" Don inquired, suddenly remembering what he was working on before the whole dream fiasco started.

"No. Leatherhead and April have been working on them though," Leo answered with a sigh.

"But why would I have had a seizure? Why did I enter a coma in the first place?" Don continued to question. Everyone's faces remained blank. Donatello frowned, knowing that he'll probably never discover the answer. Thinking back to that other brave new world, Don realised that he was offered more answers. As a side effect, did Dr Chaplin's injection cause him to enter a coma? Or was it really because he woke up in the 'real world', and the coma was just some excuse his mind made up for his alter ego's absence in his fantasy? 'Either way, I'm crazy…' Donatello sorely concluded to himself.

"It is probably best if you didn't worry about such things until you have fully recovered," Splinter advised.

"You're right," Don whispered, acknowledging that his ability to reason had been compromised as of late. Silence crept into the lair once again. From the look on Splinter's face, it was clear that nothing more was to be said about the issue until later.

"So… was Casey there?" Mike couldn't help himself, just dying to know what this other world was like.

"Michelangelo!"

To be continued…