A/N: Hello wonderful readers! Sorry this chapter took so long, but from July 13-17th was "Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Week". During that week, I put aside my fanfiction to write reviews, recommendations, and show other fanfic writers my love and appreciation for the stories they write. I didn't get to 265 reviews by myself, so I wanted to pay it forward and take time to leave reviews for other writers. So, yes, I'm a bit behind posting my own story, but I think it was time well invested ;) Anyway, on with the story! Also big thanks to Ravenshell for being my beta and for SewerSurfin for helping me with the dialogue in this chapter! :D
Chapter 17
What a horrible and incompetent son you are… You're not as good as your brothers…. They all see the monster you truly are…. You can't control it, can you? ...Still think I'm not real?...
I press the heels of my hands against my temples, hoping enough pressure will silence the echoes of the debasing voice suffocating my thoughts.
"Focus… focus… focus…." I repeat the mantra until the booming voice becomes a small whisper in the back of my mind. It's still there, but at least I can hear myself think. My hands tremble slightly as I rinse my brother's blood from my hands. I can't help but catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror above the hand-washing station. My eye is starting to swell and there's a scrape under my chin. Funny, I didn't feel any of this when I was trying to beat Raph into oblivion. Shame and guilt cover me like thick tar. It took me less than five minutes to completely lose control of myself…. I don't even remember what Raph said to make me so angry… I… I just lost it.
I have to fix this. It's the only way I can make any of this right, so no one else gets hurt.
It's best if I keep my distance from everyone until I correct this secondary mutation. Pulling out my portable harddrive, I make a beeline for my computer and immediately start researching.
I have to fix this.
As the slamming door vibrates through our home, my sons are just as distraught as I am. No one speaks, no one moves. Time stands still as Donatello's voice replays in my mind.
I hate you.
The seething malice behind his once gentle eyes pierced me to my very soul as he uttered those cutting words. His tone was solid and convincing, yet something was slightly off. That was not the voice of my sound-minded son. Yes, he has been rebellious, temperamental, and rudely outspoken in the past few months, but never like this. Never with such hateful intent in his gaze.
Raphael coughs harshly, shouldering Leonardo's concerned hands away. I have seen my boys fight and tussle many times, but had I not come sooner, I fear Donatello would have surely strangled Raphael to his death. His eyes were clouded in a startling predatory gaze. Wrenching Donatello off his brother was like prying a lion away from its prey. That was not my son…. not entirely… something is terribly and dangerously amiss with him.
I snap my gaze up when I see movement in my peripheral view. "Michelangelo! Do not go back there!" My voice is harsh with panic, but I calmly take a breath before speaking again. "Not…. right now. Give your brother time to collect himself." My youngest nods with sad reluctance, walking over to his brothers.
"Give him time? ... Give him time?" Raphael stands by himself, shrugging off any further help from Leonardo. "More time to plot his next crazed attack?!" His voice strains under the pressure of his bruised neck. He is angry and embarrassed, but beneath his guarded surface I see the true concern for his brother.
"You mustn't blame Donatello for his actions. I see now that your brother is….. not in good health." It is the only way I can describe the energy flowing from my second youngest. It is a negative force…. a sickness. Sorrow fills my heart as I stare at the closed lab door.
"Is it his aura, Sensei?" Michelangelo asks with eyes much too bright with worry as he steps closer to me. I cannot hide my surprise at his unexpected perception. He takes my expression as a confirmative answer to his question as his words quickly take a downward spiral into a panicky pace nearly too fast to understand. "I knew there was something wrong, but Leo and Raph wouldn't listen and you were angry, and—"
"Calm yourself, Michelangelo." I gently reach out to him, stroking the top of his head and he immediately collides into me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he buries his face in my robe. "It is alright. Why do you think it is his aura, my son?" I probe him further for answers.
"B-because there's something dark in there," he whispers. His face is still partially smothered in my robe. I perk my ears to better hear him. "It's so dark, I can barely see Donnie anymore." I feel his body shake slightly against me. I rub his shell in a calming manner to stave off the possibility of tears.
My two oldest sons look at Michelangelo, puzzled by his seemingly nonsensical words. But I understand his state of fear. My youngest confirms my suspicion of Donatello. There is indeed something very wrong with Donatello's aura. It reminds me of our very first private session months ago when I sensed a presence in his being. At the time, I dismissed the presence as a mere stray emotion, but now I see it is something much more. This presence is very bold and forthcoming, I do not need to be in a meditative state to feel its malevolence. The dark energy smothers me like scorching heat from a furnace…. it is much stronger, much drearier, than it was months ago.
It is a darkening aura. I look down at Michelangelo who is still huddled against my side. His aura-vision is much stronger than I originally thought. He says he saw Donatello's aura darkening for months yet I have seen nothing. Though I do not have his sight, I should have at least sensed it. Was I so disheveled in my own pride and discipline that I continuously neglected Donatello's cry for help? Did I really mistake such a dark energy as rebellious teenage hormones? My eyes soften with regret. I fear my anger and frustration made Michelangelo hesitant to approach me sooner with this revelation.
"Leonardo, please sit with your brother while I take care of Raphael's wounds." My eldest gently takes hold of Michelangelo, leading him to the den. "Raphael, go to the bathroom and clean your face. I will give you a few herbs for the swelling." Rubbing his throat, he silently obeys, the worried frown never leaving his face.
After collecting the needed herbs from beneath the dojo's tree into a small bowl, I stop in front of Donatello's lab. I expect the door to be locked, so I am surprised to find the knob turns with ease as I enter the room. His back is to me as he faces his glowing computer screen. With swift fingers clattering mercilessly against the keyboard, he doesn't turn around. However, there is a nervous tension in his posture. His fingers fumble over the keys briefly falling out of rhythm, but he quickly recovers picking up his pace as if nothing disturbed his concentration.
"Donatello. I am not angry with you, only deeply concerned." His typing doesn't miss a beat as he refuses to acknowledge me. "No matter what is going on, you can come to me, my son." His typing stops abruptly. He is considering my words. I keep still, afraid the slightest movement, the slightest breath will shatter what is left of my relationship with my son. His head dips forward slightly. The pecking of his keyboard is slow and uncertain at first, but within seconds he is back to his fast-paced typing again. I stand in the doorway a few more minutes. When he still does not respond, I sigh morosely, closing the door gently behind me. He is not ready to talk right now and I will not push the issue just yet. Beneath all the negative energy, I still know my son. Ever the introspective one, I know he needs time to think. I have faith my son will come to me soon. For now I have three other sons who require my attention.
As I step into the bathroom, Raphael dries his face with a towel, which is soiled with his blood. The cuts and scrapes are superficial, though his face is a swollen sight.
"Don't worry 'bout it, Sensei. I'm—"
"Sit down, Raphael." He looks at me and then the doorway behind me. I arch a challenging brow and with a small sigh and frown, he sits on the toilet lid. I add a small amount of water from the faucet to the ground herbs, creating a paste. With two fingers, I scoop out a small amount. "Let me see." He hesitates a moment but moves his hand so I can see his neck better. It is already heavily bruised, Donatello's large handprints evidence of his awful deed. I rub the paste on his neck. "It will feel warm but it will not burn. It will help reduce the swelling." His scowl deepens as I finish administering the paste to his neck and face.
He won't look at me but instead glares at the floor, but I can see the emotion waging war in his downcast eyes.
"I get it, now... how dangerous it is to go in a mission with some half-baked plan in your head." I am silent as my son expresses his understanding in a tone other than anger. This a rare occurrence I wish not to disrupt. "I tried to tell Don how stupid he was for going against Leo's orders like that..." His tone quickly shifts and I immediately know his calmness is gone and replaced with a quickly rising anger. "He almost got Mikey killed! He been acting like a class A jacka—"
"How do you feel when Leonardo lectures you without trying to understand the circumstances involved in your actions?"
"I hate it! Really ticks me off."
"And you expect Donatello to feel any differently?" He is silent but the scowl is slowly lifting from his countenance. "Think twice before you speak in anger, my son. Your words will either help those around you or poison them.
"…..Hai, sensei."
"It is a lifetime lesson that I, too, find myself repeating at times." I offer my reassurance by giving his shoulder a small squeeze. "I am afraid I have not displayed an honorable example of patience lately and have allowed my anger to control my words as well." He finally meets my gaze with a sense of understanding and relatability. "I must check on your brothers. Make some tea with a bit of lemon; it will ease the soreness in your throat." He bows briskly before leaving the bathroom.
In the den, I find my oldest and youngest sons sitting on the couch. Leonardo speaks softly to Michelangelo, saying what I assume are words of reassurance.
"Leonardo. I need to have a word with you." His head snaps in my direction, briefly meeting my eyes before looking down again and nodding. Standing at the entrance to his room, I wait for him to walk in before closing the door behind me. Sitting at the end of the bed, I pat the space beside me for Leonardo to join me. "Brief me on your mission."
Shame is heavy in his eyes as he recounts the events that led to the disturbing brawl. There are mixed feelings skating across his features as he expresses both his frustration and worry for his brother.
"Donatello disobeyed all of my orders! He was so adamant about getting those files, he couldn't see reason."
I keep my countenance neutral, neither angry or disappointed by my son's judgment as he vents to me. "Is this normal behavior for your brother?"
"No, not at all!"
"Did you later reprimand Donatello for his recklessness?"
He nods. "Yes, I did. I made it clear that it was unacceptable behavior."
"At any time did he try to explain his actions?"
My question gives him pause as he stumbles for an answer. "Uh, well, maybe...I ...I guess I…"
"You realize this is not your brother's typical behavior yet you judge him so sharply." He seems shocked by my observation, but I continue, hoping to make this a teachable moment. "You also did not allow him explain himself, did you?" His shameful expression is enough for me to see my assumption is correct. "Your brother has not been himself lately, refusing to speak to anyone, and when he tries to open up to you, you do not allow it. This could make him hesitant to reach out to you in the future."
Leonardo's shoulders seem to slump more and more with each correction I make, despite the gentleness of my speech. "My son, I blame myself. I have given you the wrong impression of what it is to be a leader." He slowly and curiously looks at me as I confess my wrongdoing.
"Leonardo, when I told you that your brothers take advantage of you and do not respect you, you took this knowledge and sought to be rigid and uncompromising with them in order to gain their respect. Your brothers know you, and this is why they sometimes take advantage of you. However, in the same way that your brothers know you, you also know them. You know their strengths and weaknesses; what breaks them and what pushes them forward. You know what makes each of them react. You must learn to take what you have always known about them as their brother and also use it as their leader; use your knowledge of them to inspire and lead them, not to control and tear them down."
His eyes widen as he blinks a few times. "You're never going to believe this, but Mikey told me the same thing before Raph and Donnie started fighting…. well, kind of…. in his own way, I guess." He smiles knowingly, awe and disbelief swirling thoughtfully in his eyes. "Pretty strange, huh?"
"It is not as strange as you may think, my son. Michelangelo has an insightfulness even an old rat can learn from."
"You're right, Sensei. Mikey was the one who actually noticed something was really wrong. He actually tried to help Donnie instead of shutting him out like Raph and I did."
Closing my eyes, I sigh heavily before opening them again. "I fear all of us are guilty of shutting out Donatello at some point, and it must end immediately." He nods solemnly in agreement.
"I am going to check on Michelangelo. I would like you to use this time to meditate on the things we discussed.
"Hai, Sensei." My eldest wastes no time as he pushes himself from the bed to the floor taking a lotus position. I quietly slip out of his room, easing the door shut behind him.
Michelangelo is still sitting on the couch, his legs in the seat and pulled up to his chest as his chin rests on his knees. Taking a seat beside him, I wait patiently for him to acknowledge my presence. I am rewarded when his head turns slightly to face me. My heart clenches at the fear and sadness in my youngest son's eyes, two things I never wish to see in the eyes of my child.
"Michelangelo, I am truly sorry." My voice is heavy with regret as I hold my son's gaze with all sincerity.
"Why are you apologizing to me, Sensei?" He unfolds himself from the couch, giving me a curious look.
"Because it is my anger which made you hesitate to tell me what you saw in Donatello's aura.
Within seconds there's a smile on his face. Without any reservations, he embraces me again tonight; not to find comfort but to offer it. "It's cool, Sensei. Donnie hasn't been the easiest person to be around lately and you were just worried about him. I just didn't want to bother you… and I wasn't sure if you would believe me." I pat his shell lovingly before he pulls away.
It saddens me to see the lack of confidence he has in me, and also himself. "Michelangelo, since you were small you have always seen what physical eyes cannot and deeply understood empathy in ways most souls can barely grasp. No matter who doubts you, trust the things your spiritual sight shows you and believe the things you feel are true in your soul. Those are the things which matter most."
He nods with glossy eyes that shine with so many emotions, I think he may burst into tears, but he doesn't. He inhales and exhales, with a look of resolve. "Sensei, I touched Donnie's aura a few weeks ago without his permission." I stiffen slightly at this revelation. I have warned him many times of the dangers of touching auras uninvited, but I continue to listen. "I was trying to help him…. the darkness was so thick, like black, moldy syrup, and it was sticking to everything in his aura… even the little metal box where he keeps all his feels. It was too strong for me to stop. It got angry when I tried to help Donnie and it grabbed me."
He shudders as he wraps his arms around his waist as if the mere thought caused him discomfort. "It hurt, like major bad, Sensei. Felt like I was being flambéed and torn apart from the inside. All I remember is the anger and hunger…. It was like a wicked horror movie leaving subliminal messages in his aura. Then, it just let me go, like that was just a warning tap on the wrist or something." I have not seen this darkness, only felt it briefly, but I still try to follow Michelangelo's rather descriptive imagery of his encounter. Serious illnesses have been known to take on rather sinister forms within one's aura. The fact that this presence has touched Michelangelo concerns me.
"Michelangelo, have you felt different since you touched this darkness?" He averts his eyes, biting his bottom lip. Lightly, I take hold of his shoulders. "Michelangelo, this is of great importance. You must tell me. Have you felt different?"
"N-no… it's just that sometimes I hear it; I can hear the darkness…. but only when I'm around Donnie."
This brief interaction granted him the ability to hear this presence…. Interesting. "What did it say to you?"
"It doesn't talk to me, just Donnie. I... I can't understand everything its tells him… just a few words, but it's always something bad. Sometimes I hear words like 'failure' and 'worthless'. Most of the time, I can cheer Donnie up and the darkness kinda backs off. But it always comes back stronger than before. Everything's so dark inside him now; he's trying to be strong—I can see it—but I don't know how much longer he can keep fighting, Sensei. It's getting harder to see Donnie's aura at all."
My hand brushes against the fur of my lips as I take in everything Michelangelo has told me. Donatello…. I fear my son has suffered much at the hands of this malevolent presence.
"I… I looked up some stuff online that said dark auras come from depression."
"Donatello may be depressed, but the depression did not cause this darkness. The kind of darkness you described is much too thick, too solid to be depression alone. I believe the depression is a symptom of the darkness."
"So what's causing the dark vibes?"
I do not answer my son, because I have no answer.
"Do you think the weird growth spurt has something to do with it?" His eyes brighten with hopefulness.
"Perhaps. The body, mind, and spirit are interconnected; what affects one will affect all." I ponder Donatello's behavior, his aura, and growth changes and think Michelangelo may have pointed out something essential to helping his brother. I feel a small headache pulsing at my temple from worry, but I mentally brush it away for more important matters.
"Thank you for sharing this information with me, Michelangelo. It will be useful in helping Donatello. If you or your brothers need me, I will be in my room. I have much to meditate on."
"Okay, Sensei."
With a perplexed mind, a tired body, and a heavy spirit, I retire to my room in hopes of finding meditative answers for my son.
As I type, I try not to think about Master Splinter. He sounded so…. hurt. When he came into my lab, I couldn't bear to turn around and see the crushed expression I'm certain was on his face. I never meant to say those horrible words to Sensei.
You have no right to call him Sensei…. he is no longer your teacher, remember? ...You're just an illegitimate student; a bastard child.
Thankfully, researching offers my mind an escape from the unrelenting voice in my head.
My DNA is changing at a faster rate. I fear another spurt of mutational change could happen any day now. My reptilian DNA is rebuilding and changing into a completely different gene sequence. It's like my DNA is transforming into an entirely different order… still in the reptilia class, but definitely not a turtle. I roll my chair back slightly to look at my bandaged feet. At the factory, the spur on the back of heel saved me from cracking my skull open from that three-floor fall. I didn't even realize I grabbed the support beam, it just happened. Dare I call it… instinct? Just what exactly am I mutating into?
I don't allow myself to think too heavily on how quickly I'm changing into this unspecified… thing. One by one, I start scanning through the Kraang files related to mutagen. My eyes burn with exhaustion as I rub them, desperately trying to stay awake. A few peculiar symbols catch my attention while clicking through branches of files. I translate them to loosely read: Mutagen Byproduct Log.
It seems like a good starting point so I click into it. It's a list of undesired side effects mutagen has on humans and the Earth in general. The most obvious, DNA fusion, is listed at the top. As I scroll through the list, everything seems irrelevant to my current symptoms. There's one side effect at the bottom that has a pretty low percentile, meaning it was of least concern to the Kraang. Apparently, a few years ago, a test subject manipulated by the DNA-fusion aspect of mutagen was later exposed to large amounts of mutagen. The mutagen was never in physical contact with the subject's skin, just in close perimeter. The result was….
I frown as I try to interpret the Kraang's conclusion.
Toxic Shine
Translated, the words don't make sense. I growl in frustration. "Come on, Donnie, think!" My fist hits the table rattling a few items on my desk. I sigh as I look at the shedding skin on my hand. A greenish-blue glow reflects against my skin from the mutagen canisters on my lab table.
"Toxic Shine…" I rotate my hand under the eerie mutagen light. "…Toxic shine… shine…. light… Toxic light…. how can light be toxic? ...Unless…" I walk over to the table, picking up the mutagen container. "Unless mutagen gives off unstable energy waves similar to…"
Radiation.
The realization hits me like a subway bus.
"Oh no." Shaking my head in disbelief, I quickly place the canister back on the table with the six other canisters. Frantic, I turn a full circle in my lab, looking for something…. anything to….
I dash toward my steel wall locker, yanking both doors open. Books, tools, containers… I toss them out of the storage area and immediately start stashing the mutagen in its place. I slam the locker shut, placing a combination lock on the door to ensure no one accidentally goes in there. I don't know how strong the mutagen's radiation is, but hopefully the steel will serve somewhat as a shielding material.
How could I have not seen this before? It's the mutagen, it's been the mutagen all along. I should have known something as unpredictable and dangerous as mutagen would have radioactive properties. And like any radioactive chemical, constant exposure can cause cell deformity and destruction, and eventually death of an organism. How many days and nights have I spent hovering over this toxic chemical? Too many to count in the past year. Even now with all the tests trying to stop my current mutating, I've only made things worse by overexposing my body to the mutagen. My approach was wrong… so very wrong. I've unknowingly poisoned myself to exponential proportions, possibly beyond the resolution of a cure.
I spend the next two hours testing and retesting my blood and researching radiation exposure. Even with all the radiation poisoning timelines I found online, it's still a guess in the dark as to where my symptoms fit. These radiation charts are based on radiative plutonium, not alien chemical exposure. However, from what I gather, I could possibly have less than 6 weeks before something happens, I just don't know what that something is.
Scalier skin, enlarged feet and hands, prehensile toe spurs…. my skin is still shedding which means I'm bound to get even taller. I reach toward the back of my neck, feeling the lump there. It's getting bigger, bridging the gap between my neck and cuff of my shell. Touching the hard knot sends a pain down my spine that makes me gasp for breath as black spots momentarily creep into the edges of vision. Covering my face with my hands, I lean forward resting my elbows on my desk, staving off the sudden vertigo. The movement makes my shoulders scrub against the shell opening for my arms. I'm starting to feel constricted in my own shell.
With all the changes I'm going through, my temperament and appetite concern me the most. I almost killed my brother tonight in a blind rage, and the things I'm craving now make me nervous. Ever since that night in the kitchen, I can't get the taste of raw meat out of my mind. I thought eating hot dogs would take the edge off, but it's only made it worse. As if on cue, my stomach pinches in nagging hunger.
What am I turning into?! A carnivorous animal? A mindless beast? ...Or will enough of my human cells simply die until my organs start shutting down? Maybe I'll just melt into puddle of green goo. I take a deep breath, calming the twitching nerves in my limbs. I don't know if I'll be able to fix this, but if I can't, I need a fail-safe. With a trembling hand, I pull my T-cell from my belt pocket and dial the last person who will want to speak to me, but the one person who can help me.
TBC...
I'm sure its pretty obvious who Donnie is planning to call ;) Chapter 18 coming soon!
As always thanks for all your reviews, PM, and recommendations. And I also appear to have a few faithful Anonymous reviewers! Even though I can't reply back to those of you who post as guests, I do appreciate your reviews and kind words!
Until next chapter,
~Poetique