"How is he?"

It was the question on the tips of everyone's tongues and the three brothers, April, Casey, and Splinter eagerly awaited the answer from the crock.

"Donatello lost a lot of blood and he temporarily went into shock, but I was able to fix his stomach. I don't believe there will be any problems." Leatherhead informed the tense group.

The family released a sigh of relief at the news, visibly relaxing knowing that he would be fine.

"Can we see him?" Mikey asked eagerly, already expecting the answer and standing up in response, despite his father's protest.

"Michelangelo, you need to remain still or you will risk further injuring your leg."

"But Sensei, I wanna see Don." Mikey protested, but allowed his father to push him gently back into the couch.

"You may see him later, Michelangelo. You may all see him later." Splinter added sternly, seeing his two eldest stand up and make their way toward the lab doors on silent feet. Trying to sneak past a ninjitsu master was never a smart idea.

"But Master Splinter, it's Don-" Raph started, but quickly cut himself off when Splinter's cane hit his cane against the floor once. When he spoke, his voice was firm but not unkind.

"I understand your concerns for your brother, but right now we all require rest."

This was met with immediate objections, which were cut off with a smack of the cane.

"You all will rest, then you may see Donatello in the morning. But until then, no one will go into the lab, do I make myself clear?"

He was answered with groans but the boy ultimately agreed, knowing that their father hadn't been requesting so much as ordering, and no one wanted to make the ninjitsu master mad.

Splinter, Casey, and April helped to get the three turtles into their own beds, making sure that they were as comfortable as possible before leaving them to get some much needed rest.

The three adults stood in the living room, none of them knowing what to say.

Splinter had mixed emotions. His sons were home. Injured and exhausted, but home again. Donatello was home again. But that in itself presented it's own questions. Was he aware of everything that had happened? How injured was he? How did he even get injured? After spending all these years with Saki, was he even sane?

"Master Splinter?"

Splinter looked up to see Leatherhead still positioned in front of the lab doors, almost like he was guarding it.

"Yes, Leatherhead?" Splinter inquired, looking up at the crock.

"Would you mind coming in for a minute?" He asked, glancing at Casey and April as if to imply that the invitation did not extend to them.

Splinter simply nodded and followed Leatherhead into the lab, which he quickly shut the doors to.

Splinter couldn't help but stare at his unconscious son, laying like a corpse on the sick bed.

He was so pale that the green of his skin was almost transparent. Leatherhead had removed the Foot emblazed jacket that he had seen his son in and placed it on the chair beside the bed. Splinter went to his son's side, unable to tear his eyes away, afraid that the moment he did, his son would disappear. There was a large wrap around his son's middle where the gruesome wound had once been, along with a smaller wrap around the upper corner of his son's plastron.

"I wanted to show you something." Leatherhead said quietly, unintentionally interrupting his thoughts.

Leatherhead walked over to Donatello's unconscious form and began to gently undo the smaller of the two wraps and Splinter stared at the bare flesh that lie beneath.

"At first I thought that this may have been done during the fight, but when I looked at it closer, I realized that it hadn't. The cut isn't jagged like a blade would be, and I'm certain that not even Shredder has the precision to do something like this during a fight."

"You believe this was done beforehand?" Splinter clarified.

Leatherhead nodded solemnly.

"Yes. My guess, with how neat the wound is, they probably used a scalpel and he was either unconscious or held down in some way. There is no way that I can see that he would otherwise allow them to do this."

Splinter's heart broke hearing the words, the implications of it, and once again wished that he hadn't assumed that his sense had been automatically correct that night.

"Are there any more wounds of similar nature?" Splinter asked, dreading the answer but knowing that he had to ask.

"Not recent ones, but I found a fair amount of scaring. A few years old by my guess." Leatherhead's response was soft, kind, understanding how the father would react to the news. "I didn't know if this was something to that you would share with your children..."

Splinter gave a firm shake of his head. They didn't need to know this.

"I'll stay with him tonight to monitor him, if that's alright?" Leatherhead asked, watching him carefully.

"Thank you Leatherhead, for everything you've done." Splinter said honestly.

"It's my pleasure, Splinter." Leatherhead assured him, then caught sight of the heavy bags under the father's eyes. "You may do well with rest, Master Splinter."

Splinter hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't trust Leatherhead with his son, it was that after eleven years, he finally had him back. Somehow something as miniscule as sleep ceased to matter at the moment.

But Splinter understood that he had gone too many days with too little sleep and took the crock's advice, silently assuring himself that Donatello would still be there in the morning before giving his hand a gentle squeeze and residing himself to his room to rest.

He felt a pressure he didn't know he had lift from his chest as he closed the door, allowing him to breathe better than he had in years. His sons were home, they were safe, and the family was whole again in a way it hadn't been in a long time.

For the first time in years, sleep came easy for Splinter.

He felt groggy, his mind slow, every part of him aching. He felt dead, like a corpse. Of course, logically Donatello knew that he couldn't actually be dead- dead people couldn't feel pain and that was certainly not the case here. But somehow the term still applied.

What happened?

Donatello had to think this several times before his brain, which usually came up with answers with the speed of an auctioneer on steroids, caught up to the times and began trying to figure out the answer.

The last thing he could remember was walking into his lab to run the test... It came up positive, he remembered that... And everything after was blurry, like trying to see through mud.

Donatello shifted. Was he in his bed? He didn't think he was- this felt too soft- but he was certain that he was in a bed. He reached out gingerly, biting back a groan at the pain the simple movement caused, and felt around him, taking the do soft bedding between his fingers.

Definitely a bed.

Donatello blearily opened his eyes, unsure of what he would find when he caught sight of the medical supplies laid out along the tables.

Okay, he thought. So I'm in an infirmary of some kind.

But the realization confused him more than it informed him. He had never been brought to the infirmary before, having always been expected to fix his own wounds.

Maybe he wasn't here to be fixed.

The thought stopped him cold. This didn't look like Dr. Roland's lab, but still...

The more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. He wouldn't go through that again.

With that thought in mind driving him, Donatello tried to push himself into a sitting position only to immediately fall onto his shell once more, gasping in response to the fiery pain that had suddenly spread through every fiber of his being, seeming to radiate from his plastron in particular.

"You need to lay down." A voice told him. "You are not well."

Donatello's head snapped up, expecting to see a Foot ninja, only to gape at the sight before him.

Was he hallucinating? Or was a mutated alligator actually standing over him wearing what he couldn't help but see as a lab coat.

Lab coat.

Panic flared in him once again and he managed to successfully sit up, frantically looking around for a weapon to use. Where was his staff?

A memory, as broken as the weapon he had once called his, flashed through his mind and he hesitated. When did that happen?

But he didn't have time to think about that because the mutant was approaching him and he still had no way to defend himself.

Taking a quick look around the lab he was in- as he was now certain that was what this was- he jumped to his feet, ignoring the way his body screamed for him to stop, and grabbed the first sharp object he could lay his hands on.

His fingers curled around a pair of scissors and he slowly backed away from the alligator, his eyes flickering around the room for other potential threats. Lucky for him, the room was otherwise empty, par the two of them.

The alligator raised his hands in placating gesture, obviously trying to calm him. As if he was going to fall for that!

"You need to calm down. I'm not going to hurt you, Donatello."

Lies! His mind screamed, thinking of the pain coming in waves from his plastron. Donatello didn't ask how he knew his name or how he got here, he simply held tighter to his little weapon and began looking around the room for an exit.

Donatello's fight or flight instinct had kicked in full gear and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to run from that room as fast as he could.

Unfortunately for him, the only exit that he could see was being blocked by the alligator, so he would have to go to through the mutant in order to get out, and Donatello knew that he wouldn't fare well in a fight right now.

Looking to the side where he had been laying, he saw his jacket in arm's distance. He still had smoke bombs, didn't he? If not he was certain that if there was anything in there, it would be useful.

Donatello shifted to run toward his jacket when the door behind the alligator opened and Leonardo and Raphael ran in, almost tripping over themselves to get into the room.

They looked better than when they were in the cells. Their wounds were bandaged and they looked much more rested than they had previously. They also looked much more aware and alert. They both had their respective bandanas fit around their head, which last he had seen, were being used to staunch wounds. These bandanas were obviously new.

"Donnie?" Leonardo questioned as he took a few cautious steps forward, subtly motioning for Raphael to stay put as he did, effectively blocking the only exit.

Donatello caught sight of the gesture but didn't move as Leonardo crept closer, one hand reaching forward to take the pair of scissors in his hand.

"What's going on?"

Ouch.

Was that his voice? It must've been, his throat hurt too much after the words were said for there to be any other explanation. But his voice sounded so scratchy, the words cut up, that he didn't even recognize himself.

"What do you remember, Donnie?" Leonardo asked, eyeing him carefully.

"I did the test." Donatello recalled slowly, trying to force his mind to work. "It was positive."

Leonardo and Raphael looked relieved at the statement.

"And after that? What else?" Leonardo asked, his fingers grasping the scissors and pulling them away, not that Donatello put up any resistance, he was too lost in his thoughts to do so.

"Do you remember the fight?" Raphael asked, speaking for the first time since entering the room.

Donatello froze as images flashed through his mind, like a flood being released and he nodded mutely.

The three of them on the ground.

Saki's demand-

"Michelangelo!" Donatello gasped out. "Is he-"

"He's fine, Don." Raphael assured him with wave of his hand as Leonardo started to guide him back toward the bed.

Despite how his mind seemed to recoil at the thought of sitting on the bed, he allowed Leonardo to help him up onto it. Mostly for the fact that he knew he wouldn't be able to stand up much longer if he didn't.

"Mikey's fine, Donnie." Leonardo said as he stepped back. "He's just resting."

Guilt washed over him as he remembered everything that had transpired, right up until the moment to that Shredder's blades had entered his plastron.

"Where am I?" He asked once he was able to control his expression once more, forcing it to become blank.

"In our home." Leonardo responded. "You were in pretty bad shape, so we brought you back here and Leatherhead helped you."

Donatello frowned. Leatherhead?

But his mind had already connected the dots before Leonardo had began the introduction.

"This is our friend, Leatherhead. Leatherhead, well, you already know this is Donnie."

The awkwardness in the room was palpable as the two simply looked at each other, neither offering to shake the other's hand. He may be their friend, but Donatello simply couldn't stand to get anywhere close to him at the moment. Leatherhead must have felt similar because he made no move to come closer, instead opting to stay a safe distance away.

Before any of them could try and break the silence, a new voice interrupted.

"Is something the matter, my sons?"

Donatello looked up.

Standing in the doorway was a large, obviously mutated rat. He wore a simple comodo and held a wooden cane in both hands, an impassive expression on his face.

Hamado Yoshi, his brain supplied and Donatello unconsciously straitened upon seeing him.

"No, Sensei." Leonardo answered for the group as he turned around. "Donnie just woke up is all."

"I see." Hamado Yoshi said before turning to him, eyes boring into his own in a way that made Donatello want to hide. The look in his eyes was sharp, like he could see right through him and Donatello didn't like it. "How are you, my son?"

Donatello couldn't blame his slow reaction time on his brain this for his lack of response that time. He simply didn't connect the dots that when Hamado Yoshi said that, he had been speaking to him and not Leonardo or Raphael.

When the silence stretched out and neither turtle in question spoke, Donatello pieced together that they were expecting a response from him.

"I'm fine." The words sounded wrong, strained. Like he couldn't figure out how to put the two words together correctly.

"What do you remember?" Hamado Yoshi asked, moving closer toward him.

"Everything." He answered. Seeing the hesitant expression on Leonardo and Raphael's faces, he elaborated. "I remember the fight... Shredder stabbed me, I believe. Nothing after that."

Hamado Yoshi sat down in a chair, gazing at him with that piercing stare.

"What do you know, my son?"

Donatello fought off the urge to tell him that he wasn't his son, that there had been a mistake, that he knew who he was, but then he remembered the results of the test. He could hardly deny factual proof when it had been staring him in the face.

When he didn't immediately answer, trying to figure out exactly how to answer that loaded question, Hamado Yoshi turned to his other two sons.

"See if Michelangelo is awake and prepare breakfast for everyone." He instructed them. "Do not come in until I allow it."

Raphael's expression contorted in a grimace as he motioned toward his blue banded brother. "Are you really sure that you want Leo cooking, Master Splinter? The last time he cooked, he set the kitchen on fire trying to make grilled cheese."

Leonardo's cheeks tinged a slight pink color and he threw his hands up in aggravation.

"One time!" He exclaimed. "I burn food one time and you never let me forget it."

"You didn't just burn the food, Fearless, you almost burnt down our kitchen." Raphael shot back, arms over his plastron and a smirk on his face. "I thought Mike was gonna have a stroke."

Donatello could feel a laugh bubbling to the surface as result of the brother's antics and Leonardo's sulking expression wasn't exactly helping.

A smile tugged on the corner of Hamato Yoshi's mouth. "Go. Raphael, ensure that you remain in the kitchen at all times. It would be unfortunate to have to explain to your youngest brother that Leonardo's lack of culinary skills resulted in him losing his kitchen."

Leonardo sulked out of the room, mumbling about, "one time" and, "it was only a little fire." A now grinning Raphael followed close behind and Donatello had a sneaky suspicion that Leonardo wouldn't get off the hook that easy.

Hamato Yoshi closed the door, leaving only him, Leatherhead, and himself in the room. The piercing stare that never wavered on his face seemed to look strait through him and he sobered up immediately, preparing for whatever was to come from this.

Splinter watched as Donatello straitened up, looking back at him with narrowed, intelligent eyes.

"What do you know already, Donatello?" He asked patiently.

Donatello's expression was impassive, unreadable, as he answered.

"They told me I was their brother, and I did a test to confirm it." Donatello answered in what Splinter could only describe as a robotic voice, void of any emotion and his answer was short and to the point.

"And otherwise?" Splinter questioned, moving closer to his son and stopped when Donatello edged away from him. "Did they explain anything to you?"

"No." Donnatello answered, eyes anywhere but on him or Leatherhead, who was standing silently in the back of the room. "There wasn't time for them to."

Splinter nodded and sat opposite of his son, hoping that maybe being in a less offensive looking position would calm his son to some degree.

"There are some things that I need to tell you, then." Splinter said, waiting for a response from his son and taking the brief eye contact that he made as such before he began.

Donatello never met his eyes as he explained, never looked up, but held himself in the same position as Splinter explained to the best of his ability what had happened to lead them to this.

Splinter could see that his son was trying keep impassive, but failed as various emotions kept flickering across his face.

Confusion was the foremost.

Understanding followed as a close second.

Shame flickered across his face every now and then, but it was gone before Splinter could ask, replaced by the mask.

When Splinter could find nothing more to explain, he watched as Donatello simply stared down at the bed, hands clenched at his sides.

"My son, do you remember anything at all from before the Foot?" Splinter asked gently.

Donatello seemed to think about the question before giving a firm shake of his head.

"No." He said quietly. "I don't remember any of you."

Splinter nodded solemnly. He hadn't truly expected his son to remember them if he hadn't suspected anything up to that point, but he felt he had to make sure.

"You're home now, my son. That is what matters." Splinter replied, standing. "I'm going to ensure that we still have a kitchen, would you join me?" Splinter asked, wanting to be sure that his son knew that he had a choice in the matter. "I believe a tour is in order, anyhow."

Donatello hesitated then gave a silent nod.

As Splinter was turning around to open the door, he heard his son's quiet voice speak up.

"I'm truly sorry, Hamado Yoshi." He whispered. "Your sons were hurt because of my actions and I am truly sorry for the part I played in that."

Splinter's heart broke seeing the shame in his second youngest's eyes. Splinter had no doubt that Donatello had meant the words, but he also wasn't sure that there was true blame to place on his second youngest.

"Do not worry yourself, my son. You four are here, home, and safe. You can ease yourself of this guilt, it is not yours to bear. That belongs to Oroku Saki, not you." Splinter assured him.

Donatello nodded but Splinter knew that his words hadn't gotten through completely. Maybe he needed to see them, to help convince him that they were fine.

"Come, I believe this tour is long overdo." Splinter said before turning back to his son with a reassuring smile. "and I go by Master Splinter to most."

"Hai." Donatello said, understanding what he meant and carefully stood, a hand on his plastron as he lowered himself from the bed.

Splinter saw him flinch and his hand curled tighter around himself.

"Do you need help?"

Donatello gave a stubborn shake of his head and followed Splinter to the door.

Splinter allowed his son to move on his own accord to into the hall before they both stopped to stare at the sight before them.

Leonardo had, years ago, been banned from kitchen duty because of his inability to maintain a sense of order when cooking. Not just due to the grilled cheese catastrophe, but because of a series of incidents that all ended with inedible food.

Splinter sighed. He should have known that his eldest son's bad streak in the cooking area could not have miraculously gotten better.

Raphael wore a wide, smug grin on his face as he watched the ongoing mess, his arms crossed over his plastron.

Leonardo was dancing between the many unnecessary looking pots and pans, obviously trying to keep them the pots from overflowing and the pans from burning.

It didn't seem to the old father like he was doing a very good job of it.

Making sure that his second youngest son was stable as he leaned carefully against the wall, a hand covering the barely perceptible smirk on his face, Splinter moved toward the kitchen on silent feet, unbeknownst to the two eldest brothers.

"Raphael, I believe that I asked you to help Leonardo make breakfast." Splinter said, making the red banded turtle jump at the unexpected voice.

"Well I was, Sensei, but Leo-nardo here decided that he could do it himself. So I'm just following the orders Fearless leader here gave me." Raphael declared with a wave in the elder brother's direction.

"I see." Splinter said after a moment. "Leonardo, what are you doing?"

His eldest son whirled around, trying to pry a black pancake off the steaming pan with an embarrassed look etched upon his face.

"Well- well Mikey, we woke him up and he said he wanted pancakes so I tried to follow his recipes and uh, well-" Leonardo waved his free hand around the mess. "I don't think I did it right."

Leonardo's face was tinged red with embarrassment but before he could defend himself, an ear piercing scream erupted from behind the three of them and they turned to see the source of the noise, expecting to see something horrific.

Michelangelo was open mouthed, staring at what the family considered his kitchen with horror.

"What did you do to my baby?!" Michelangelo screamed in a high pitched voice, trying to walk with his a casted leg toward the group, only to misstep and would have fallen if Donatello hadn't grabbed onto his arm to steady him.

Michelangelo must not have seen him because the second that the youngest turtle laid eyes on his immediate older brother, he yelped again and threw his arms around him.

Donatello froze and tried to step back but was ultimately trapped by the younger's grip and just gave in and allowed the hug.

"Donnie! You're alive! You're awake!" Michelangelo yelled, the horror he had seen in the kitchen temporarily forgotten.

The two eldest turtles had failed to notice that Donatello was even in the room up until that point.

Michelangelo seemed to remember the reason for his freak out right then and turned back toward the kitchen.

"Who let Leo into my kitchen?!" He demanded, limping toward said area. "And what is burning?"

Leonardo had a sheepish look on his face at the question.

"Well, I tried to follow your recipes for, uh, pancakes and homemade syrup." Leonardo motioned toward two very stained pieces of paper. "This is impossible! I don't know how you do this!"

"Skill bro!" Michelangelo boasted, snatching the spatula from Leonardo and shooing him out of the kitchen. "Now out, before we have a repeat of the grilled cheese thing."

"Not my fault that your recipes are impossible to follow." Leonardo muttered as he was rather forcefully removed from the kitchen.

"Nah bro, you just can't do it." Michelangelo said. "You don't got the talent."

Leo shook his head in exasperation and went to stand beside his second youngest brother, looking him over and trying to determine how to start this conversation.

"How are you doing?" He finally asked when he was unable to come up with anything else to say.

"I'm fine."

It was an obvious lie. Leo could tell by the way that his brother was curled into himself, his arms around his middle securely, that he was hurting. But Leo wasn't about to call him out on it.

"Has Master Splinter shown you around?" Leo asked, desperately wanting to keep the conversation going, despite his brother's simple answers.

"He was going to. He wanted to, uh-" Donnie smirked slightly. "he wanted to make sure that he still had a kitchen, he said."

Leo felt his face heat at the obvious dig but his heart was soaring when he heard the amusement in his brother's tone.

"You really can't cook, can you?" Donnie asked, glancing at him.

"I'm working on it." Leo muttered.

The grilled cheese thing was bad enough, but he knew that none of his brothers would ever let him live this down.

Donnie must have taken his tone the wrong way because the smirk dropped and he shifted where he stood.

What had he done? Leo didn't understand what he had said wrong. He was about to apologize when his Sensei's voice cut through the tension unintentionally.

"While Michelangelo attempts to save breakfast, I'll show you our home." His father's eyes narrowed as he looked between his two sons.

"Hai." Donnie murmured obediently and followed Sensei.

Leo let out a sigh once they were out of view and went to see how much luck Mikey was having with saving breakfast.

Mikey was trying to salvage an already black pancake, the very one that Leo himself had been trying to pry off the pan, mumbling to himself as he did.

"Er- how's it going?" Leo asked hesitantly, trying to ignore Raph's laughter from behind him.

"You are banned from ever using my kitchen again." Mikey retorted as he used a spatula to ward off his eldest brother.

"Noted." Leo replied as he backed carefully out of the kitchen to see Raph still grinning. "You know, you could've told me that I was doing it wrong."

Raph snorted in response. "Fearless leader? Admit he was wrong? What a day. You wouldn't have listened to me."

"You didn't say anything, so how would you know?" Leo demanded, offended by the idea that his Immedient younger brother thought him too unsensible to listen. "I would've listened."

"Sure, Fearless." Raph laughed. "And I'm Shredder."

"I hope not Raphie, you're ugly enough without all the crazy, anger management problems..." Mikey let the sentence trail off with a grin. "Oh, you'll be fine then."

Raph growled. "You're lucky you're injured, shell-for-brains, or I'd-"

"Even injured I can take you Raph. Watch thi-"

"Michelangelo, what did I say about not straining yourself?"

They all turned to see Master Splinter, his gaze amused yet stern as he looked at their youngest brother, with Donnie standing behind him, a cautious look on his face, like he wasn't sure if he should go farther.

"Er- It's uh, well-" Mikey stammered as he was caught red handed before giving up completely. "Not to."

"Do not do anything to aggravate your injuries, Michelangelo." Splinter ordered and Leo caught Donnie shifting his stance uncomfortably.

"Hai, Master Splinter." Mikey said with a bow of his head.

Splinter smiled then. "Thank you for fixing breakfast, my son. I'm also glad to see that we still have our kitchen intact."

The last sentence was so obviously directed at him that Leo couldn't help the tinge of red that he knew was on his cheeks.

Splinter's eyes flickered over to the many burnt pots and pans and the pancakes that Mikey wasn't able to save.

"Mostly intact, then." Splinter corrected himself.

Raph apparently couldn't hold himself back any longer and started laughing, at which Mikey's peels of laughter soon echoed. Even Donnie was smiling, though he seemed to be trying to suppress it.

Leo aimed a glare at his brothers, though this was mostly directed at Raph, yet couldn't deny the relief he felt at being home, at having them all safe and sound again.

"Eat, my sons." Splinter urged them after the laughter died down. "We have things to discuss and I would be much happier knowing that you have eaten."

Leo caught the worrying look on his father's face and winced. They must look terrible. The multiple injuries, the lack of food and water, even the way that they held themselves must be torture for him.

Then there was Donnie, which was a completely different ball game.

Leo didn't even want to imagine how they looked to their father, so he quickly obeyed.

Leo waited for Mikey to load a heaping pile of pancakes onto his plate and for Raph to take several more before he grabbed a plate only to realizing that he was missing someone. He turned to see Donnie still standing slightly behind Splinter, having not moved an inch.

"Donnie." Leo said, trying to get his brother's attention, but he seemed to be lost in his thoughts. "Donnie."

Master Splinter turned, realizing then that his second youngest son had failed to move. "Donatello."

Donnie's head snapped up to meet their father's gaze, suddenly aware.

Leo swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke while his brother's attention was still present.

"Donnie, come eat." Leo said, offering the plate to him as he spoke, only for Donnie to give a shake of his head.

"I'm not hungry." He replied.

Leo hesitated. He knew that his brother was lying, he simply couldn't just not be hungry after all that had happened. But how was he supposed to make him eat?

"My son, you need to eat." Splinter said. The words weren't harsh or strict, in fact quite the opposite, but you wouldn't have known that if you looked at Donnie's reaction.

Donnie flinched, just slightly, but enough for the eldest to see, and he shifted his weight so that he was standing slightly away from the elder before dipping his head in a bow and mumbling a soft, "Hai" and taking the plate that Leo offered him and sitting on the far end of the small island that adjourned the kitchen that stood as their table.

Leo took two pancakes for himself, his heart suddenly not so relieved.

The way that Donnie reacted toward them and toward Sensei was hard not to notice.

With Sensei, Donnie was tense and careful, obedient when he spoke and never speaking unless Sensei asked him something. It was disheartening for Leo to realize that this was how Donnie must have been like around Shredder and Leo knew that the behavior would not be easily broken.

Sensei seemed to realize this too as he took his own seat, not saying anything when Donnie shifted away from him.

They ate in silence for the first few minutes, stuffing their faces full of the sweet- albeit slightly burned- food. Leo didn't know the last time that he ate and couldn't remember ever eating anything that tasted better than this. Leo had no idea how long they had been held by Shredder, but it was long enough that Leo's stomach growled loudly every second that it wasn't being fed.

Donnie ate slowly, cautiously, as if he were testing it. Leo even thought that he saw him sniff it. In fact, Leo thought that this was exactly what Donnie was doing. He kept watching them, eyes narrowed slightly, and Leo was suddenly certain about it, and that just made him sadder. Did Donnie genuinely think that they might poison him? Or was he generally this cautious?

Leo wasn't sure which was worse.

Once Raph, Leo, and Mikey had finished devouring their food for the most part- Donnie was still eating cautiously- Master Splinter cleared his throat to get their attention.

"My sons, I need to know what happened." Splinter asked gently, looking them all over, no doubt trying to envision just how they had gotten so injured.

The three brothers automatically glanced at Donnie, who's eyes were glued to the table and didn't look like he was going to let up any time soon.

Leo looked at his brothers, who seemed to wilt under his gaze, before taking on the speaking role for the group.

Explaining was much harder to do than Leo would have thought as he continuously toned down the events of what he soon found out was several day's span of time. It didn't help that Mikey was unnaturally quiet the entire time, that Raph was visibly shaking with anger as Leo recounted the explanation, or that their father only spoke to ask clarifying questions. And it definitely didn't help how Donnie was staring at the table with a completely blank expression, never once looking up from it.

Leo tried, really tried, to dim it down where Donnie's involvement was concerned, too aware that any time he was mentioned, Donnie flinched and drew away from them even more.

While Leo wanted to know why Donnie had done what he did, Leo could very clearly see the shame written on his second youngest brother's face and Leo decided that it didn't matter. It didn't matter why Donnie had done what he had, it only mattered that he had come to the right conclusion. If he hadn't, Mikey would be dead right now, probably along with the rest of them. So it didn't matter why Donnie had done any of it, or why he had suddenly decided to help them, only that he had.

"And that's when you showed up." Leo finished lamely.

His father nodded mutely and Leo caught him glancing at Donnie.

"I see." He said before standing. "Finish your breakfast, my sons. I need to speak with Leatherhead."

Their father was standing before he had even finished the sentence and heading back to the lab, leaving the four turtles alone in silence.

Awkward wasn't enough of a word to describe the atmosphere around them. Donnie had long since stopped pretending to eat, Mikey for once wasn't interested in eating until he was full to the bursting. Raph was shaking his head and muttering something under his breath to Mikey, obviously spouting off something angrily before standing and heading toward the dojo to let off some excess energy.

"Raph, wait-" Leo said, but Raph just waved him off angrily.

Raph resisted the urge to punch the nearest wall as he headed for his favorite punching bag in the corner of the dojo. He was so angry that his hands were shaking violently before he sent his first strike at the bag.

He wasn't even sure what had caused it. He just couldn't stand sitting at that table and everything feeling so wrong when it should have felt right.

They were home! They had Don back, after so long they finally had him back. So why did it feel like they brought back a stranger? Raph knew his brothers well. If you asked him, he could tell you virtually anything about them. Like how Leo would feel guilty about any little mishap and would blame himself if they got injured. How Mikey would try and cheer everyone up by cooking or playing pranks or just talking, like he had in the cells to get their minds off things.

But no matter how he tried, he didn't know the first thing about his second youngest brother.

He didn't know why he had went behind their back, or why he had ambushed them. He didn't know why he saved Mikey's life after knowing they were related. Raph wanted to think that it didn't matter, but he couldn't deny that he wanted- no, needed- to know. He couldn't stop thinking about what would have happened if Donnie had gone through with it. Why had he? Was he just angry with Shred-head? Did he do it to prove himself to them?

Something settled in Raph's gut at the thought and he remembered the conversation that the family had not that long before they were taken, about whether it would be wise to bring Donnie to the Lair without knowing his loyalties.

Maybe Leo and Splinter were right.

Raph snorted despite himself.

Leo right. That was a first.

Raph sighed and looked down at his hands, which were bruised and his shoulder was aching something terrible, like it was being stretched beyond it's limits.

"You know, you probably shouldn't be doing that." A voice said behind him. "You'll hurt your shoulder again."

Raph turned to see the very brother he had been thinking about enter the dojo with a hesitant expression, both feet on the threshold like he was afraid to cross it.

"Can I come in?"

I really liked the idea of Leo like being taboo with cooking I love the stories about that. Thank you for staying with this!