Author's Notes: Please visit my profile to find out information in regards to review responses. Sorry for the long wait on this update. Hopefully I'll get quicker soon. Also, just a reminder, this fic is sort of set in all TMNT universes. The world where Don is a turtle is set solely in the Fox Box universe, while the world where Don is a human is a mixture of all TMNT versions.
Chapter Four: The Trigger.
It hurt to keep his eyes open. Don wondered if it was even physically possible. He needed sleep; that much was certain. Swiveling around in his computer chair, Don eyed his tidy bed in the quiet humming glow of his monitor. He sighed, finally deciding to call it quits for the night. After having such a troubling time with previous nights due to his weird human dreams, he now found the prospect of sleeping as being rather daunting. Yet it was a hopeless battle. He just couldn't stay awake any longer. Reluctantly turning off his computer, Donatello tiredly stumbled over towards his bed and slipped under the covers.
Closing his eyes and simply lying in a comfortable position, Don didn't know whether he had been dreaming or just thinking to himself when things started to occur. His arm started to tingle. Groaning slightly, Don changed his position, thinking he had simply squashed his limb and therefore had caused it to sting slightly because of the lack of blood. Yet the tingling sensation continued. It wasn't long till it became quite bothersome; how could he expect to have a good nights sleep with such a distraction? 'It's probably because of that punch Raphael gave me', Donatello sorely thought to himself. A few minutes later, Don's imagination had run wild, and he was starting to wonder whether a spider or another kind of freaky animal had bitten him. After all, the sewers were crawling with all sorts of undesirable critters. Eventually curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he opened his eyes.
Donatello blinked. He could see the floor. The ground in itself wasn't unusual, however it certainly worried him, especially when it was physically impossible to view it from lying down in his bed. It wasn't long till he discovered that he was instead positioned on a massage table, where there was a hole in the head rest where patients could place their face so that they could lie down on their stomachs and keep their back straight. Lifting his head out of the little hole, Don's whole body tensed in shock when he saw an unknown human standing beside him.
"I guess it's true - you really are awake," the woman commented with a gentle smile. A slight Asian accent plagued her words. Numbed by his odd surroundings, Donatello mutely stared at her, noting her short black hair and somewhat attractive appearance. His heart pounded; Don didn't need to look at his own hands to know that he was back in this other, brave new world. He watched as the woman approached him, her name tag glinting in the harsh white lighting. 'Mei' he managed to read.
Once the initial shock was over, Don realised that his arm was still tingling. Still laying on his stomach, Don awkwardly tried to turn his head so he could view the rest of his foreign body. He tensed once again when he noticed a number of small silver needles sticking out of his limbs, though he wasn't panicking as much as he thought he would. Don watched in stupor as the woman called Mei gently poked in another fine needle. "What are you doing?" Donatello finally asked.
"Stimulating your muscles," Mei answered.
"What? How? …Why?" Don asked all at once, though for some odd reason he didn't feel like protesting against the woman's actions.
"I'm using acupuncture to get your chi moving through your body. Because of your condition, your muscles don't get used as much as they should, meaning that if we don't stimulate them, then they'll slowly deteriorate," Mei said, popping in another needle on his hamstring.
"But… Wouldn't I have to move them around myself in order to keep my muscles strong?" Donatello wondered; his face buried into the table, voice rebounding off the gray tiled floor.
"Yes. Sometimes you do move around when you're hallucinating. You're not catatonic all of the time, though you don't really use your legs and arms often enough. So we do this every week and on every second day a physical therapist guides your body through some excercises. It's not the same as you being active yourself, but it does help," Mei explained. Donatello remained silent, staring at the floor and mentally tracing lines around the cracks in the tiles.
"Um… But, but why acupuncture? If I'm supposed to be schizophrenic, then wouldn't shoving heaps of needles in me be a bad idea, in case I freak out or something?" Donatello wondered, rather skeptical of the world he was in.
Mei stopped working, causing Don to arch his back a little bit in order to lift his head out of the hole. He observed her solemn expression. "You really don't remember me, do you Danny?" the woman asked sadly.
"I can't say I do," Don answered truthfully, though there was a hint of genuine remorse in his voice. What did this person mean to him, if anything at all?
Mei sighed. "I guess I just hoped that it wasn't true what the others told me about you – how you forget just about everything," Mei murmured, eyes downcast, ridden with sadness.
"How long have you known me for?" Don wondered.
"Quite a few years now," Mei said. "Back then, you snapped out of your catatonic state for a while, long enough for us to get acquainted with each other. Then your condition worsened once again, though you included me into your fantasy. The next thing I heard was that you had repressed everything – forgotten all those conversations we had…" the woman sighed once again. "I didn't believe Dr O'Neil at first… But I guess she was right about you."
"We used to be friends?" Don timidly asked. He didn't know what to feel. Should he be ashamed with how he treated this woman? Ashamed that all those moments in time that Mei had treasured deeply were simply scrapped from his mind with extreme ease? Yet, that was of course if this was what was considered reality. It could be true that this woman, including the world she lived in, didn't exist at all, and therefore there was nothing to remember anyway. But then again, should he be ashamed that he even doubted her existence even though she was standing right beside him, in full flesh and blood?
"I'd like to think that we were friends, yes," Mei answered slowly.
There was silence. Donatello suddenly felt incredibly awkward. What could he possibly say to her? 'Sorry, you weren't worth remembering? You weren't important enough for me to even keep you in my fantasy?' A minute passed before Mei finally resumed her work, locating his pressure points.
"So… have you read my case file?" Don wondered. Since he couldn't return to the world that he knew so well, complete with being equipped with a shell, the man decided that he might as well make the most of his time there.
"Of course. Everyone who works with you has seen it," Mei said.
"Do you happen to know what I was like? Before I was diagnosed with schizophrenia?" Don asked, lowering his head back into the hole, straitening his back as he did so.
"What type of person you were before you were admitted?" Mei rephrased the question.
"Yeah," Don confirmed.
"Well, I didn't know you personally back then, but from what I've heard, you were apparently a very bright boy. Good at school. Very clever all round," Mei answered as best she could.
"Then what happened?" Don found himself asking. He naturally didn't like the idea that his reptilian family didn't exist, and yet this world offered something else. The concept of being human was incredibly enticing, causing Don to be more curious about the finer details the more time he spent in that foreign place. It was the first instance where Don really started to ask himself the hard questions… What if he really was schizophrenic?
"Experts say that schizophrenia is usually linked with puberty. Anyway, when you reached that age, you became really irritable. You frequently suffered from panic attacks, lashing out at other people. A lot of your friends left you and you always were in trouble at school. Before you were admitted to this hospital, you were a part of a street gang, stealing frequently; all in all rather disturbed," Mei answered seriously, trying her best not to upset the man. But Don didn't argue with what she had said. He didn't even move. Don just laid there, soaking in all the information.
"Before I… went bad, what sort of things was I interested in? What were my goals?" Don wondered.
"You were mainly interested in science, how things worked, stuff like that. You were really good at mathematics as well. I think you once said to Dr O'Neil that you wanted to be an electrician, but you felt that your father was pushing you too hard. He thought you were good enough to become a doctor," Mei said.
"Didn't I like my father?" Don asked, almost rhetorically.
"You hated him. He was, after all, the person who admitted you here."
"What's he like?"
"I suppose one could describe him to be quite a businessman. It may not seem like it, but he still does deeply care about you, Danny," Mei said, reminding the man about what his true family was like.
"And my mother?"
"Your mother and father got divorced when you were six. I think she now lives in somewhere in New Jersey. Your father gained the rights for custody," Mei answered. Once again Don just simply soaked in all the new information. "Your father likes to keep things quite traditional; keep in touch with his heritage. So he's quite open to alternative therapies, like acupuncture. You yourself were first introduced to this type of treatment when you were a little boy, so you're quite used to it," Mei explained.
"So you don't use acupuncture on any other patients?"
"Of course not. Only you. Other patients would most likely freak out. But because you're used to this, we find that it tends to relax you instead." The woman didn't lie; oddly enough, Donatello did find the therapy rather peaceful even though it involved the use of needles.
"But yesterday - well, at least I thought it was yesterday - April told me that I was never fond of needles," Don said, becoming confused.
"She probably meant syringes. You tend to shy away from them. I don't blame you. But, as you can see for yourself, you don't seem to have a problem with these types of needles," Mei said with another one of her gentle smiles. Don lifted his head up so he could view the woman again, finding her smile rather contagious. He continued to stare at her thoughtfully, remembering how she mentioned she had been included into his warped fantasy. If this world really was the correct one, then what would life had been like if he had never developed schizophrenia? Even though Don could only remember speaking to Mei for the past twenty minutes, the man could tell that he would get along well with her. It finally dawned on him what things this unknown world could offer; freedom, equality, peace and most of all, love. As he stared at her face and her Asian appearance, deep down, Donatello could guess where Mei would have once fit in.
"Mei? You know how you said that I included you into my fantasy? …Were you a female turtle?" Don asked, though as the words slipped from his mouth, he realised how stupid his question must have sounded. Yet Mei still understood what he meant.
"Do you remember that?" Mei sounded so hopeful, so enthused, that Don cringed at the thought of disappointing her.
"No. I just guessed. April told me earlier that I once had a female turtle in my fantasy," Don murmured.
"Oh…" The flicker of delight had escaped from her eyes, and instead it was replaced with sadness. "You incorporated me into your fantasy. Yeah, I was the female turtle," Mei admitted, speaking softly. Donatello was now more confused than ever. If what the doctors were saying were true, then why would he only imagine male turtles, especially when the idea of being the last of his kind terrified and depressed him so much? If there was once a female turtle, then what went wrong? Did he used to have a crush on Mei? Did they have an argument one time during an acupuncture session? His heart pumped faster, scared that he no longer knew who he was. Was he a ninja turtle, sworn to a life of secrecy and hiding? Or was he a man, lost and confused, that he had to rely on other people in order to find out what he used to be like in better times? Most of all… who was manipulating him?
"Mei?"
"Hmm?" The woman awaited his question.
"What are my chances of recovering from this?"
"You'll have to ask Dr O'Neil," Mei answered honestly. "I read in your report, that after the first time you came out of your catatonic state, you were released from here for a short amount of time."
"Really? What happened?"
"Your condition grew worse. One day you were so convinced that your fantasy was real, that you descended into the sewers to try and find your brothers. It was your father that found you. He readmitted you back here, and that's when we found out how complex your condition was. …You're different from other schizophrenics… But you've got some of the best doctors in the state trying to help you overcome this," Mei said. Donatello sighed. There was so much that he didn't know. He was a person who usually enjoyed puzzles; collecting all the facts to come to a conclusion. But what were the facts? Who should he believe? Sensing a headache coming on, Don placed his head back into the hole, allowing Mei to continue on with her work.
"Danny? I'm now going to attach a machine to some of these needles. When I turn it on, you should feel a light tingling sensation. It's supposed to help your chi flow. Since you're actually awake this time, you can tell me if you'd like the power turned up higher," Mei instructed him softly, clipping the thin needles as she spoke. Hearing the click of the switch, just like she had said, Don could feel his body tingling. Finding the sensation oddly relaxing, Don exhaled gently and closed his eyes.
The tingling continued. It gradually grew stronger. "Um, Mei? Can you turn it down a bit?" Don asked. The sensation didn't stop or even recede. Instead it just insistently grew stronger. Donatello gritted his teeth, the pins and needles feeling becoming quite bothersome, bordering on painful. "MEI!" Don growled, quite aggravated, eyes flying open, his body popping up quickly into a sitting position. Little white dots clouded over his vision, as though his eyes weren't adjusted properly to his surroundings. He was disorientated for a few seconds, though it didn't take him long to realise where he was. Donatello was back in his bedroom. No longer was he lying face down on a massage table, but instead he was sitting upright on his sagging mattress with his moth-bitten blanket haphazardly draping over his legs. A dull ache spread down one of his arms; the tingles burning at his fingertips. It seemed that he had simply slept on his arm.
Eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, Don's heart made a giant pump of adrenaline when he noticed a certain figure sitting quietly in the corner of his room. He relaxed slightly when he noticed that it was only Splinter. "Who is Mei?" the elderly rat asked. Slightly dumbfounded while he tried to figure out how much Splinter had heard, Don sat on his bed, quite flabbergasted. "Is she from your dream? This 'other world'?" Splinter baited, urging him to speak.
"Yes, Master Splinter," Don mumbled.
The rat sighed and moved his way over to the turtle's bed, sitting on the covers beside his son. "I see you are deeply troubled," Splinter noted.
"I'm just a bit confused, that's all," Don admitted, voice almost a whisper.
"What is it about this place that confuses you?"
"I don't know. Everything just seems so real…" Don trailed off.
"We all have dreams like that at least once in our lives. Some wise people have said that dreams are simply a way for the mind to solve the problems that plague us in the real world," Splinter reminded the turtle.
"But I'm perfectly fine with my life! All my problems revolve around my dreams!" Don raised his voice, quite frustrated. Splinter frowned, hating to see his pupil like this.
"Maybe you have some unsolved questions that need answering? Maybe your dreams are trying to tap into your subconscious thought-"
"-It's not that," Don interrupted the ninjitsu master. Splinter was partially taken aback by his abruptness. "It's not only how real everything seems… but also the fact that what they say could be true…"
"Do you truly believe this? I'm certain that if you looked deep within yourself, you will know what the truth is," Splinter advised him.
"But Master Splinter, it's the possibility that confuses me," Donatello sighed. The rat could tell that he had more to say, so he stayed silent, waiting for the turtle to gather his thoughts. "Master Splinter?"
"Yes, Donatello," Splinter urged him to continue.
"Were there ever any female turtles?" Donatello timidly asked. Splinter tilted his head to one side, wondering what brought on the question.
"No, Donatello," Splinter answered firmly.
"But if there happened to be one and you knew about her, you'd tell us, right?" Don asked, knowing that his question was rather silly but still wanting to get the issue off his mind.
"Of course I would," Splinter solemnly said, causing the rat to wonder what exactly these dreams were like, considering that Don had raised the issue of girls. He knew he would be foolish to believe that his sons wouldn't have the primal topic buried in their subconscious, though he still wasn't used to one of his sons bringing the subject up.
"I thought so…" Don mumbled, easily portraying signs of unease and paranoia by shifting his body uncomfortably and avoiding eye contact. "I mean, some things that they say don't really add up. Well, according to what I know at any rate. Then again, what do I know? I just can't help but believe that there may be some element of truth behind their claims…" Don trailed off, not knowing how his father would react to such controversial views.
"Your brothers are very worried about you," Splinter told the turtle.
"Really?"
"They fear that you might be 'losing it', as they so eloquently phrased it," Splinter reported, hoping to curb Don's current train of thought.
"I'm just confused… I, I don't know who I am anymore. I just need some time to myself, so I can sort things out again," Donatello started to give excuses for his abstract behaviour.
Splinter stared sadly at his student. "Donatello, although you may feel that way, I don't think it is best to dwell and deal with these issues by yourself. There's only so much meditation can accomplish. Sometimes you discover who you really are not by looking within, but rather through sharing, adapting, responding and reacting with other people. We know who you are, and we can help you through this. Sticking to the medication you're currently subscribed to will also help your progress," April analysed.
Donatello's entire body jolted with shock. He could have sworn that he was speaking to Splinter. A sickening flow of disorientation bombarded Don's mind. Where was he? What happened to Splinter? Was he really talking to April the entire time? His knees rattled with terror as he tried to comprehend everything. From what he could understand, Don believed he had traveled in-between the two different worlds with the blink of an eye. April was now sitting where Splinter once was, causing Donatello to doubt even further if the elderly rat was there at all.
"Danny?" April stopped what she was saying as soon as she noticed Donatello's sudden change in behaviour. "Are you alright?"
"Where am I?" Don's voice shuddered, terribly confused.
"You're in my office, at the mental institution…" April answered suspiciously, raising an eyebrow as she thought he would have known that simple fact.
"But, but Splinter was right there! He was talking to me, and, and…" Don trailed off, nearing hysterics.
"Shh, Danny! It's okay!" April attempted to calm the terrified man. It wasn't long till she had figured out what had happened. "Do you remember what I was talking about?" she inquired.
"No! Splinter was right here, and he was giving me advice, and then all of a sudden you're here instead, and-"
"-Okay, okay. It's alright. I know what's happening," April assured him. "You must have been talking while you were still dreaming. You see, when you lapse into your mental fantasy, you're not catatonic the entire time. Sometimes you lock your body into unusual positions, while at other times you even go as far as to act out what you are doing in your schizophrenic fantasy. It can be quite hard to tell at times if you are awake of dreaming. I thought you could hear what I was saying, but obviously that wasn't the case…" April trailed off. After a few seconds the woman thought of the incident as being rather humorous, even though it had been quite a mistake on her part.
Donatello simply shuddered; rather rattled with how quickly and haphazardly he was slipping between both of the worlds. "Where's Mei?" Don wondered, still trying to gain some bearings in this contrasting environment.
"Mei?" April was slightly baffled.
"Yeah, Mei. My acupuncturist. I was talking to her earlier, and I think I fell asleep during the treatment," Don timidly explained.
"She only comes in on Thursdays," April said.
"Well… what day is it?"
"Saturday."
"But, but how can that be? All I've done is spoken to Splinter. I've only been gone from this place for about ten minutes or so!" Donatello started to freak out once again.
"Danny, your fantasy doesn't exactly keep the correct time. When you're sleeping here, it doesn't necessarily mean that your alter ego is sleeping as well. You can choose when or how your fantasy progresses; sometimes you only imagine a whole day's worth of activities, while in reality an entire week has passed," April carefully explained a few details to him. Donatello fell silent. When he didn't say anything for a while, April started to question whether he had slipped back into his catatonic state.
"April?"
"Yes?" April asked, partly relieved to know that he was still part of her world.
"How long will it take for me to get better?" Donatello wondered. His heart raced faster, knowing that what he was asking was rather bold, especially when he wasn't sure whether to classify his brothers as being real or just a figment of his imagination. But it wouldn't hurt to just ask, would it?
"Danny, that all depends on you. You're going to have to really work hard and stay positive in order to beat this thing. It's all about the effort you put into it; if you don't want to get better, then your condition will deteriorate once again," April calmly explained. Donatello took a few moments just to think his situation over.
"April… I want to get better," Donatello admitted. The man was just glad that his brothers weren't around to hear that comment. Don had always been somewhat of a pacifist; getting tired with all the fighting involved with his lifestyle. In this place, although he was considered mentally sick, he is at least human. He had always longed for this; to be in a world where he was relatively normal, not cowering beneath a great city. Don wanted to experience life for what it was; to get a job, study at college, buy some property, find a partner and start a family, all of which he couldn't do as a ninja turtle. Yet Don wasn't completely convinced. He also felt selfish, thinking about himself and not believing in the people, his motley family, who have only shown him tolerance, trust and friendship over his lifetime. But when the two worlds were compared, this unknown human realm tended to make more sense; surely mutant turtles didn't really exist, or did they? If being human was indeed all a figment of his imagination because of Dr Chaplin's injection, then what would happen to his turtle body if he chose to explore the environment he had always longed for? Donatello definitely hadn't made a firm decision, but he still wanted to keep his options open and to learn more about this world that he had always been deprived from.
"That's excellent, Danny!" April exclaimed, getting quite excited by his fantastic progress. "You're father will be so happy to hear that when he comes in to visit you," April added.
"When's he coming?" Don was curious, but also partly alarmed.
"He's on his way now. He visits you this time every week. He'll be pleasantly surprised to find you awake – he hasn't spoken to you in years," April said.
"He must really care about me, you know, to still visit me in this condition," Don realised.
"He does. He only wants you to come back home."
"So what can I do to get better? How can I stop lapsing into this fantasy world?" Donatello wondered.
"I've been studying your case for quite some time now. We've tried a number of things, but they haven't worked. So I've thought of taking a different approach this time around. Basically I want you to discover a trigger," April suggested.
"A trigger?" Don was curious.
"Something to make you realise when you're dreaming and when you're awake. I think that's a big problem with you; you hear two different points of view and you don't know which one is the truth. Lucid dreamers have the same problem. Like you, people who have the ability to control their dreams need to find something that lets them know that they're dreaming. A common test is to turn a light switch on or to just jump off a small height, like a chair, as the mind tends to have trouble imagining sudden changes. But you're condition is much more complex than a simple lucid dream," April said.
"So what could I do? What should my trigger be?" Don wondered, though there was a hint of caution and distrust in his voice.
"First of all, I want you to think very hard about your fantasy world. Maybe there's something that doesn't make complete sense? Maybe there's something you can train yourself to do in your fantasy so that'll remind you of everything I've spoken to you about? For instance, with lucid dreamers, they spend five minutes of their day staring at an object or something simple, like the back of their hand. If they happen to notice that object during their dream, then that tends to trigger the brain into realising that they are in fact dreaming, and from then on they can control what they do," April explained, though she had a small feeling that what she had said might have just gone over her patient's head.
"So basically you want me to find a fault; something that will make me realise for certain that my 'fantasy' isn't real?" Don wanted clarification.
"Generally, yes. But I have no idea what that could be. It's up to you to find that out," April said, feeling like she was giving the man a mission.
There was a knock on April's office door. "Come in!" she called out to the unknown figure. Opening slowly, only enough to pop his head inside the room, Dr Stockman looked over towards April. Donatello still wasn't used to seeing the doctor who also doubled as one of his enemies, but he was prepared for it this time around; controlling his emotions and not freaking out unlike the last time he had seen him.
"Danny's father is here. Is he right to come in?" Stockman asked, wanting to know the status of April's patient.
"I think Danny will be alright… Are you ready to see your father, Danny?" April answered Stockman before turning her attention towards Donatello.
"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Don said, sounding optimistic. He had to admit that he was rather curious and excited.
Nodding, Stockman slowly creaked the door open, revealing the Japanese man who was standing beside him. Donatello froze in terror. For a Japanese man, he was rather tall. He looked fit for his age, though he had quite a number of white hairs on his head. Even though he was considerably older than what Donatello had always imagined him to be, in the end his 'father' was unmistakably Oroku Saki.
Donatello cried out in panic, falling off his seat out of shock before trying to scamper away. For some odd reason unbeknownst to him, Don found that the corner of the room offered some comfort. Both April and Stockman immediately approached the bewildered man while Saki was too alarmed by his son's reaction to even move. "Danny, it's okay! Calm down!" April said loudly, trying to grab both of Donatello's wrists so she could restrain him. Yet Don continued to resist, flailing his weak arms against the two doctors. He started to scream and wail, so confused that he didn't know how to react. "Calm down!" April ordered him again but to no avail. Donatello's vision grew hazy, though he didn't know if he was losing consciousness or if it was because he had some tears in his eyes. Everything from that point onwards was a complete blur to him.
"He's getting worse," someone said, though its origin was indeterminate.
To be continued…
