A/N: Hey everybody! Thanks for your patience with this update, a lot of RL stuff going on making updates a bit slower than I intended. Anyway, on with the chapter! Enjoy! Special thanks to beta, Ravenshell and story sounding board, Lydjachan :)

Chapter 29

For the next forty minutes, Donatello starts from the beginning of how what he thought was a growth spurt spiraled out of control into something very dangerous. I'm sure this is a repeat to his family, but they still listen in silence as he speaks. Their body language speaks louder than their words ever could. Mr. Hamato is closest to Donatello and me. When Donatello begins to fidget with knick-knacks on his desk, one look in the general direction of his father seems to calm his nervous hands.

Leonardo and April are the next closest in proximity to the purple-clad turtle, though I think it's for two completely different reasons. Leonardo's stance pretty much mirrors Splinter's as he stands near his brother protectively. Leonardo's eyes are warm and encouraging like his father's, but Donatello completely avoids any comforting eye contact that Leonardo tries to make with him. My daughter is standing a couple of feet from Leonardo. However, the way she keeps tethering with one foot in front of the other, I know she wants to stand closer to Donatello, but she won't… she knows I'm watching her.

The youngest one, Michelangelo, is behind Leonardo and April spinning distractedly on a lab stool. He seems incredibly anxious about something but I'm not sure if it is due to his brother's current predicament or simply his normal excitable nature. Lastly is Donatello's more aloof brother, Raphael. He is the farthest away from his family as he leans against lab door. An uncaring scowl compliments the hard, thin line of his lips. Even though his posture is cold and statuesque, his eyes hold a watchdog-type protectiveness as they roam over the occupants of the room several times. I even catch him watching me as I study him.

I continue to gaze over Donatello's 'growth spurt' notebook as he explains everything up to this point. I hum thoughtfully to myself as I review his rather detailed exposition and footnotes on what he calls Mutagen Radiation Poisoning. Unfortunately, I know first-hand what a fascinating and terrible substance mutagen can be.

"At this point I've exhausted all of my resources to try and reverse the process and the best I can come up with is a mutagen-based inhibitor to slow down the mutation, but it won't stop it." Donatello concludes as he takes a nickel, an eraser, two beakers, and a bag of Skittles and arranges them in ascending order by size. He seems a little uncertain of which beaker should be next, both beakers being the same size. He switches their positions three times before finally deciding to put the chipped beaker behind the undamaged one. He looks up with wide brown eyes to find me also staring at his choreography of objects and quickly stops. It's strange seeing him without his mask. Exhaustion has created heavy bags under his eyes; his skin seems a bit off-color as well.

Not once did he waver or stumble through his explanation of his mutation. He doesn't sound like someone who's been physically and emotionally affected by mutagen, but I know better. I know that months after being unmutated, I still have my psychological struggles. I can only imagine what it would feel like to mutate slowly, being completely aware of the impending transformation. Donatello hides his trauma well, but I still manage to pick up on the small things. Now he's rearranging pencils and pens on his desk into neat rows before he catches me staring again and then ceases the behavior. I mentally document his mannerisms.

"Is there anything you can do to help my son, Mr. O'Neil?" Mr. Hamato is very forward in his request.

"I'm not a scientist in the way you may think, Mr. Hamato. I specialize in the science of the mind, not the body. Honestly, your son probably knows more than I do." I can't pretend to be something I'm not. I won't deceive this family with false words of know-how.

"But, Dad, you've been researching genetics and chemical toxicology at the university for months now. You have to know of something that could help." April stares at me with this glowing hope that 'daddy can fix anything'. The same hope that glistened in her eyes before her mother died of cancer nine years ago.

"Mr. O'Neil, I understand your knowledge is limited in the area of mutation, but any help is better than no help at all." Mr. Hamato's sage voice softens my resolve. This strange family of mutants protected my daughter, treated her like their own when I could not. Studying an assortment of sciences pertaining to anatomy, mutations, and toxins has become a bit of an 'off-the-clock' hobby while teaching at the university. Since my mutation experience, one might even call it a bit of an obsession. Maybe it's time for me to put this knowledge to good use.

"Alright…. alright." I confirm my word with a nod. "I'll see what I can come up with. I have a few colleagues that haven't disowned me that I could discretely get information from as well." There's a cool breeze of relief that washes over the room and despite my inadequate knowledge, I feel like this is the right thing to do. "Donatello, you have an superb breakdown here of your findings," I gesture to the thick notebook in my hand, "but I would like to take a look at your blood samples myself."

"I have samples in the mini fridge." He points to the small box underneath his lab table. "Everything in my lab is completely at your disposal."

"Excellent, but first I would like to get a better understanding of your symptoms."

"If you look at the appendix, you'll find I've outlined in detail each symptom as it developed and also—"

"Uh… actually, I mean a physical examination…. If it's alright." I look over to his father for permission. Even if Donatello is a highly trained ninja, he is also still a minor. "It's important to make sure the symptoms you've noted are not causing your body any immediate harm. As thorough as Donatello has been, there are some things that may need a second set of observant eyes.

"That will be fine, Mr. O'Neil. I will remain present for the exam." Donatello's face darkens with embarrassment to a distinct shade of army green at the mentioning of his father being present… and so does the rest of his body.

"I didn't see the metachrosis noted, so I presume it is a new symptom."

"Unfortunately," Donatello mutters. Mr. Hamato ushers the others out of the lab, all except Leonardo.

Donatello and Leonardo partake in a silent staring contest that seems to speak volumes between the brothers. Apparently Leonardo is the victor because Donatello simply sighs as his older sibling remains in the room.

"I promise to make this as quick as possible," I reassure him. He replies with a shaky nod, but otherwise keeps his eyes fixed on the floor. His thick index finger taps at a consistent rhythm against his thigh as his eyes trail the floor. Within seconds, his olive green skin changes to a neutral brown. I remember seeing something on the Discovery channel about lizards changing colors when they are in distress. His posture stiffens under my prolonged stare.

Trying to alleviate any undue stress, I work quickly. Enlisting the assistance of Leonardo, I use his physique as a comparison in case there are subtle changes in Donatello's anatomy that were missed. His skin is rough, with an almost armor-like texture with scales that are more noticeable than Leonardo's. I look at Donatello's notes and then back at his neck again. "You noted a lump formed near the cuff of your shell, but there's nothing there." I call his name when he doesn't answer right away. He blinks out of whatever thought he was in as I repeat myself. He turns his head as if to look over his own shoulder.

"How is that possible?..." he asks no one in particular as he cups the back of his neck with his hand. He winces as he rubs the reddish area.

"It looks a bit irritated. Perhaps your cells are trying to correct the mutation on their own…?" I speculate as I smooth my beard along my chin.

"Maybe…" He isn't buying my theory any more than I am, but I'm not sure what else would cause a sizeable lump to suddenly 'disappear.'

I move along, examining his left arm. Aside from the actual mutation, the limb looks healthy. My eyes trace from his clawed fingertips to his shoulder. I frown. "This could be problematic." I touch along his arm cuff where his shoulder blade disappears into the inside of his shell. His enlarged deltoid presses tightly against his arm cuff, extending the bridge area between his plastron and his carapace. His plastron seems fairly pliable on the sides, but this appendage growth seems to be stretching the bridge to its limits. "Does this hurt at all?" I ask, applying a bit of pressure to the stretched area.

"No, not in particular," he answers, squirming under my touch. "Just a bit uncomfortable is all."

"You should keep an eye on this." I circle the area of his rotary cuff with my finger. "Any additional growth could cause loss of blood circulation or damage to your shell." His Adam's apple bobbles once before he briskly nods. I continue the surface examination, finally reaching his feet. They are bound snuggly in wrappings. Taking a seat, he allows me to unwrap his feet. My brows furrow with concern at the tight band marks imprinted on them. The way he hunches over and avoids looking at anyone tells me he's embarrassed. I wonder how long he has kept this from his family?

Doing a quick double take from Leonardo's feet back to Donatello's, I can see a rather interesting development. "Bend your toes." He does as instructed and I watch as his much larger toes curl forward. The small spur on the back of his heel also curls inward and it strangely reminds me of a bird's foot… three toes in front and one toe at the heel. It almost looks like an evolutionary mutation. I don't voice my thoughts, preferring to do further research before I spout off any uneducated guesses. I also collect a skin sample from his left arm which isn't an easy task; his skin is tough, almost too tough to simply slice a small sample from the upper epidermis. I begin to pack the samples and notebook into a messenger bag Donatello gives me, when another question comes to mind. "Donatello, have you noticed any psychological changes over the time span of your mutagen exposure?"

Mr. Hamato and Leonardo share a glance as Donatello goes through a list of descriptions. "Paranoia, aggressive tendencies, depression, and possible psychosis." His voice still maintains its monotone rhythm even with the serious issues he's just listed. I find it a bit disconcerting.

"I see…. those are some weighty self-diagnoses." He looks as if he wants to say more, but decides against it, clamping his mouth shut. "Well, I think I have everything I need. At this point, staying away from mutagen would be the most logical thing to do for now."

"I assure you, Mr. O'Neil, Donatello will not be in the presence of mutagen because he will not be in his lab. He will be in his room resting." Mr. Hamato gives Donatello a pointed look.

"But Sensei, I still need to sample-test the inhibitor and—" A sterner look from his father is enough to make him sigh in defeat. "Hai, Sensei."

"I'll work on this and see what I can come up with. You mentioned a meditation technique that seemed to be blocking some aspects of the mutation…. do you know how long it will last?" I ask, looking from Donatello to his father.

"The healing mantra is only meant to temporarily heal the spirit and mind. It will clear the poison from his aura, but it will not stop the physical mutation." Mr. Hamato offers his knowledge of the subject and it has me rather intrigued, but I don't dwell on it long. Time is of essence. If this poison is mutating his body at such a progressive rate, there's no telling how much time we have before his next mutation spurt kicks in.

"Give me two days to research and pull as many of my resources as I can." Splinter and Leonardo nod with a level of trust and faith that I'm not sure I'm worthy of. Donatello's expression, on the other hand, is rather grim.

"Mr. O'Neil, I'm not looking for a miracle cure, but any help you can provide I would be immensely grateful to receive." Donatello is honest and polite, but it doesn't fully disguise the look of defeat that haunts his countenance.

"Donatello, what were you counting?"

"Sir?" His brow furrows in confusion.

"When I started the examination, you were tapping your thigh to keep count of something." Judging by the surprised look on his face, I'd say I hit the nail on the head.

"…Just the cracks in the concrete, sir," he answers downplaying the nervous tic.

"Mr. Hamato, could I have a word with you?"

"Certainly. Leonardo, Donatello, please excuse yourselves to the common area."

"Hai, Sensei." The boys bow in unison before exiting the lab, although Donatello does spare Mr. Hamato and me a quick anxious glance before leaving.

"I'm concerned about Donatello's mental state," I express, moments after the boys close the door behind them. His whiskers twitch as I continue. "As I'm sure you know, a regular mutation through mutagen is quite devastating to the psyche. I imagine a slow descent into a secondary mutation would be no different. However, Donatello is showing somewhat dissociated behavior concerning this situation. He seems emotionally detached, using obsessive-compulsiveness as a coping mechanism. His behavior is more than likely a result of the physical and emotional stress he's experiencing." Mr. Hamato is quiet, hopefully taking in my concerns. "I've seen it a lot…. when I had my practice…" I clear my throat, trying not to dwell on my lost reputation. "You should keep a close eye on him, especially after his attempted suicide."

His ears perk and his brows shoot skyward at my last word. "Donatello has not attempted suicide."

"Maybe not, but he was certainly considering it if he stole a bottle of Pentobarbital from the animal clinic April works at." His brows remain their raised position.

"This 'Pentobarbital' is used to commit suicide?"

"Well, it's more of a euthanasia… a mercy killing. It's usually used by clinics to prevent animals from suffering through terminal illness or diseases in which survival is unlikely." I instantly regret the use of the term 'animal.' I assume it might be insulting…. I wonder if they see themselves as human hybrids or animal hybrids.

"I see." He doesn't seem offended. His features are heavily clouded, burdened with the information I shared with him.

"….You didn't know, did you?"

"No…. I did not." His voice is tight as he clears his throat. "Thank you for telling me, Mr. O'Neil."

"Of course. Donatello is not only my daughter's friend, but is now currently my informal patient. He's a minor. You are obligated to know anything that could threaten or cause him emotional or physical harm." Had the table been turned, I would want to know these things about April.

"Mr. O'Neil, you said you study the mind first and foremost…. how can I…."

He hesitates with his question, but I already know what he wants to ask: How can I keep my son from killing himself? I've seen many heartbroken parents who wonder where they went wrong for their child to want to end their existence. "You surround him with the love and support he needs. Keep an open line of communication. He's trying to cope with what's happening to him. Let him know he doesn't have to do it alone." It's the best advice I can offer.

"After our spiritual encounter, his brothers and I are beginning to see where our support has faltered."

"Acknowledgement is always the first step. It sounds like you guys are on the right track to mending the emotional hurt. Communication is key," I reiterate with an encouraging smile. "You have my word, Mr. Hamato. I will do everything in my power to help Donatello."

He offers me a nod and smile as we form a mutual bridge of parental understanding.

When Master Splinter shooed us out of the lab, Raph wasted no time muttering, "Goin' topside," as he parkours the turnstiles and disappears into the sewers. Mikey and I share a look before he shrugs apologetically.

"You know how Raphie is. When his feelings get all spinny like those teacup rides, he doesn't like for us to see him mentally puke. He'll be back once his brain-stomach settles."

"Right…" I nod questioningly at Michelangelo, deciphering his Mikey-speak for 'Raph-needs-to-blow-off-some-angsty-steam.' Tilting my head, I offer him what I hope is a smile of strength. "What about you, Mikey? ...How are you holding up?"

"Me?" He points to his plastron. "I'm totally good, Apes. I just gotta make sure me and Don are good. I kinda yelled at him for not telling me about all this." He gives me a sheepish smile and I can feel just how sorry he is for whatever he said to Donnie. Sitting beside him at the kitchen table, I feel the warm fluffiness of his love and I know he's going to dump it all over Donnie the second he has a chance to. I pat his hand affectionately.

"So how did you guys end up finding Donnie?" His eyes light up as he goes into this fantastical story of how they found Donnie on the rooftop and later rescued him from the darkness of his own psyche. Donnie strictly stuck to the facts of the whole ordeal, but when Mikey tells the adventure in his usual animated way, it's a story filled with suspense, drama, the supernatural, and an unwavering bond of family.

"And that's when Leo called you, then you and your dad showed up, and then Donnie went into that loooooooong science-y blah-blah about—"

"Okay, I think I got everything from that point," I kindly stop him from repeating what we just went through an hour ago. "Mikey, you said Donnie was covered in blood when you guys found him…. Did he tell you guys what happened?" When Mikey described Donnie in his story as being covered in blood and 'totally freaking out' I was worried about how he ended up in such a state.

"Well…. he, um, didn't actually tell us, he kinda showed us." Mikey taps the side of his head.

"You mean when you guys were in his aura?"

"Yeah… you could say that…" He rubs the back of his head as he averts his eyes to the side. Before I can prod him for more answers, the lab door opens and shuts again. It's Leo and Donnie. My father and Master Splinter are still in there… must be pretty serious.

I want to run and hug Donnie again, but I restrain those notions not wanting to push myself on him after everything he's been through.

His skin has changed colors again, now an earthy brown. Donnie's large feet drag against the concrete floor. His movements are sluggish as he sits in the chair beside me. He looks down at the table as several seconds of silence chisel by.

"April, Mikey, where's Raph?"

"He went to puke out his feels from his brain-stomach," Mikey answers him as if that was the most natural thing in the world to say.

"He what?!" Leo's exasperation growls through his tired countenance. Mikey hops out of the chair, grabbing Leo by the arm as he walks him in the direction of the den.

"Dude, don't you know anything about brain anatomy? Come on, I'll tell you all about it." I narrow my eyes with a smile as Mikey winks at me over his shoulder. Clever little imp.

Now that I'm alone with Donatello, I take a moment to look him over. Even with his intimidating new height, his hunched posture just makes him look timid and withdrawn. His mutated hand is hidden in his lap while he busies his right hand with the pepper shaker on the table. He moves it between the fork and the salt shaker. I know he wants to say something, but he doesn't so I take the lead.

"Why didn't you tell me?" My throat tightens as I try to keep the accusatory tone out of my voice.

"I didn't want to hurt you." His voice is calm and monotone as he fiddles with the salt shaker. He's been acting like this for the past hour. He explained his mutating body to my dad like it was just some insignificant phenomenon in nature. As I focus on his mind, I don't feel the mental block anymore. His emotions are at the forefront of his psyche, a jumbled mess of fear, shame, and dejection. The emotions are cornered, forced out of their hiding place. Listening quietly, I can practically hear his mind shifting and shuffling awkwardly through his feelings trying to make sense of it all. As his mind shifts, so does his hand as he turns the fork vertically on the table. Even without my psychic abilities, I can see how lost he is.

My heart aches with his pain, but burns with my own hurt and anger. How could he? How could he not tell me this was happening to him? And his only excuse is he didn't want to hurt me?... I can feel a cool detachment slowly draping over his psyche. His lack of care for his own emotions makes me shiver. How can he possibly care about hurting me, if he doesn't even care about hurting himself?

"You thought killing yourself wouldn't hurt me?!" I blurt out the words in a dark whisper before I have a chance to dial back my emotions. The salt shaker slips from his fingers as his mouth gapes open. A trail of white crystals follow the shaker as it rolls in a circle on its side. His coolness melts away into something warm and shameful. "I saw the Pentobarbital vial missing from the case."

"I didn't mean for you to find out like that."

"How exactly was I supposed to find out? ...When your brothers found you belly up with a syringe sticking out of your arm?!" My tongue lashes out without remorse. I want him to know how serious I am. "I was scared out of my mind, Donnie. I tried to look for you, but the storm made it impossible to see anything. I called Leo and—"

"You told Leo?" His voice is soft and nervous.

"Of course I told Leo…. I told my dad, too! I didn't know what else to do! I barely slept last night. Every time I closed my eyes I kept seeing your lifeless body consumed by darkness," I whisper harshly, air escaping from my lungs as I take a heated breath. His face is blurry as my eyes well up with tears. As I blink away the watery haze, I see an unmistakable wetness in his own eyes. With a hard swallow he turns his attention back to the salt shaker, putting it back in line with the fork and pepper shaker. With a thick index finger, he brushes the salt crystals into a small pile.

"I'm not suicidal. I just needed a fail-safe in place just in case the poison is…. irreversible." He rubs the last few grains of salt from his fingers.

"That Pentobarbital is irreversible, but you obviously already knew that." I feel his emotions recoil at my words, but I don't back down. Honestly, I'm so upset with him right now, I want him to know just how much he hurt me.

"Hours went by and I still hadn't heard from your brothers." I speak as calmly as I can. Although my voice is barely above a whisper, I know he can hear me. "I thought you were dead. When Leo finally called and said you were home, all I could think about was how close I was to losing you."

"I'm sorry. I was trying to protect you. You don't understand how dangerous I was…. how dangerous I still am. " His remorse sends small static pulses through my mind. The pulses quicken with intensity, painfully prickling my mind with his fear. There was a time when I couldn't sense Donnie's emotions, but now I feel his regret, dejection and brokenness. They're the most pure and sincere emotions I've felt from him, aside from the night we kissed. My heart aches anew at the remembrance of that special night, forever a mural in my memory. With all that's happened, I don't really know where we stand in our relationship with one another; it feels so shaky and vulnerable…. but whatever kind of friendship/relationship this is I don't plan on jumping ship anytime soon.

Donnie jolts in his seat as my fingers find his mutated hand under the table. I tug his large arm until he allows me to guide his hand onto my lap. It's large enough to cover both of my thighs. The skin is calloused with spiked ridges, but I gently stroke his hand as if it were instead made of the softest silk.

"It's going to be okay. My dad will help you figure something out. Everyone's here for you, Donnie…. I'm here for you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah…" He clears his throat of a tearful falter. "…Yeah, I know…. That's what I'm afraid of." He gives me a weak smile, but I still see the haunted look in his eyes. I wish I could take away his hurt. Cupping his face between my hands, I plant a small kiss between his eyes.

A loud 'ahem' makes us both jump. My hands release his face as Donnie abruptly pulls away from me. "Come on, April. We should be going. I'm sure Donatello is overdue for some much needed rest." My ears burn with humiliation at my father's arched brow as he looks from me to Donnie. I don't know which is worst, my father's sidelong look or Sensei's knowing eyes.

Leonardo stares at me inquisitively which only makes the heat in my cheeks burn more fiercely. Mikey's cheesing it up like the Cheshire cat. My nose wrinkles as I scowl at him and it only makes him smile even more. "Mr. Hamato, you and your boys should be careful in the sewers. On our way over, April and I overheard some maintenance workers looking for a missing co-worker. They seemed to already be under the assumption that there are mutants in the sewers, more specifically mutant squirrels. You should probably keep a watch-out for a loss worker in case he stumbles upon your home."

Leo and Mikey are unnaturally quiet at the mention of maintenance workers. I catch Leo's firm head shake when Mikey opens his mouth to say something. Obeying his eldest brother, he clamps his mouth shut, looking down and away from me and my dad. Donnie is completely zoned out, his skin taking on a more grey and ashen appearance. Master Splinter clears his throat before speaking to my father. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. O'Neil. We were aware of the lost worker. Leonardo was able to lead the human away from our home, isn't that right, Leonardo?"

"Hai, Sensei," Leonardo answers quickly joining Mikey in gazing at the floor. Something fishy is going on here. I don't sense that Master Splinter is lying, but there's something about his words that seem to have a different meaning than what he intended. Curiosity is gnawing at my mind. I've known Sensei and the boys for over a year, they can't seriously think they can hide something from me now.

"Glad to hear it." I'm pretty sure my dad picks up on their weirdness too, but he doesn't seem very bothered by it. Unlike me, he won't bluntly ask about it, but simply store it as psychological observation like he does everything else. "Well, we'll be going now, Mr. Hamato. See you in a couple of days. If any other developments occur before then, just give me a call."

While my father says a few more words to Sensei, I rub my hand along Donnie's coarse shoulder, telling him I'll text him later. Leaving the Hamato home, we begin navigating the tunnels again. The first five minutes in the sewers are eerily quiet aside for the cadence of pipes groaning and water dripping.

"Care to explain why your lips were on Donatello's face?"

I groan.

TBC

A/N: Thanks for reading and please leave a review! :) To the anonymous newcomer, thanks for taking the time to check out my story and I hope you'll stick around for the what lies ahead ;)

I don't have any quotes to leave you with, but rather a question: So where has Raphael disappeared to?...Stay tuned to find out!

See you next chapter!

Poetique