A/N: After an unexpected hiatus, I'm back with another chapter. Thank you all for your patience. And an even bigger thank you to all of you who voted for this story for the TMNT Fanfiction competition. This story won Best Donatello, Best Horror, Best Multi-Chapter, and Best Overall Fic. Thank you for your unwavering support and votes. :) Now on to the story!...And big thanks to Ravenshell for being my beta!
Chapter 31
Shivering from the cold air invading the nooks and crannies of my weathered coat, I walk briskly, listening to the series of groans and sighs from my daughter beside me.
"For the one billionth time, Donnie and I are just friends."
"Your nonverbal communications say otherwise."
"Oh my god….Dad, it was just one little kiss….it wasn't even on the lips!"
"You've kissed him on the lips?" My brows skyrocket as I stop to stare at my daughter.
"…Maybe?" The deep cherry blush hasn't receded from her face since we left the Hamato home. Raising a teenage girl is no easy feat, but raising a teenage girl who is infatuated with a humanoid turtle was definitely not in my Parenting 101 guide either. "Can we not do this now?" she pleads with nothing short of teen-ridden exasperation.
"Actually, I think now would be an ideal time to 'do this' since you haven't so much as breathed a word about this growing infatuation with Donatello."
"It's not some high school crush! Donatello understands me, we just have this connection… that's all."
"Is this connection psychologically or anatomically speaking?"
"DAD!" Her cheeks puff out indignantly, but before she can further incriminate herself, I shush her with a parental raise of my index finger. "I'm not disapproving this interpersonal…. connection… unless, of course, it is an anatomical connection…." I start off slowly, eying my daughter for a response.
She sighs with half-lidded eyes. "No, Dad, I am not having anatomical relations with Donatello."
Her deadpanned response is enough to quell fears of having a sexually active teen in my hands. I do my best to tread carefully in the midst of everything that's transpired today. "I would just like to know a little more about the turtle who's captured the eyes of my little apricot."
"Oh, Dad," she sighs as a small smile sweeps across her lips. My eyes relax knowing I've single-handedly defused a pending teen bomb from exploding in my face. Being a psychologist has its advantages. Not that April ever gives me much trouble, but when she's passionate about something (or in this case someone), her fiery temper rivals her mother's.
"Donnie's not like other guys… but not for the reasons you may think. He's sweet, brilliant, and painfully awkward." She giggles to herself as if something comical is dancing behind her eyes. "And he's charming without even trying, but he's too modest to see it. And, Dad, he gets me. He doesn't care that I'm a science nerd or that I'd rather go to a museum than go shopping, or that I dip my french fries in my milkshake…. he likes me just for being…. me." The way her voice dreamily trails off into whatever fantasies are glittering in her head brings a tightness to my chest. "You'll be able to cure him, right, Dad?"
Sighing, I watch my breath form wispy white puffs in the night's freezing temperature. I would almost prefer April to have a crush on that Casey kid she's always tutoring. Donatello is a nice young man…. er… turtle, but I just don't see a long-lasting relationship between him and my daughter and I don't want her to be hurt when she finally comes to that realization. The world is still struggling with accepting the idea of mutant existence; it'll be years before they wrap their minds around treating them as human beings, even longer to entertain the thought of mutant courtship. Furthermore, Donatello's current mutation problem could complicate any relationship April wishes to have with him regardless of society's views. Any further thoughts on my daughter's love life are interrupted by the mimicking sound of a crisp rotary phone ringtone. Pulling my phone from my belt clip, I flip it open.
"I really wish you would upgrade your phone to this century…"
"Hello?" I give April a pointed look as I answer my phone, even though a smile is evident in my tone. "…Oh Ms. Calloway! ...How are you this even—"
"Kirby, is Simone with April?"
"Uh, no… no, April is here with me. We were just heading home from visiting some friends. Simone didn't come home tonight?" This isn't the first time April's friend has pulled a stunt like this, scaring her poor mother.
"Dad, what is it? ...Did something happen to Simone?" April clings to my arm looking up at me expectantly as I try to listen to Ms. Calloway's frantic voice.
"She came home past her curfew again… we had another fight and she just up and left! She's always with your girl, so I thought…. I just don't know where else she could be. If Social Service comes again…" Her tearful voice wavers with fear and exasperation. It's not easy being a single parent, especially under Nora Calloway's circumstances.
"We're on our way home now, Nora. We'll keep a watch for her." I put my phone away before turning to April. "Simone had another fight with her mother." She nods understandingly, not asking for any details.
As we approach the front steps of our home, I can hear a distinct humming of an unknown yet familiar melody I'm sure I've heard on April's iPod. Turning the corner to the steps, I'm greeted by two afro puffs with a big pink bubble between them. After the predictable 'pop', Simone's face comes into view. Her sly half-lidded eyes stare up at me from her cross-legged position on our steps. Under the lighting of the streetlight I catch a glimpse of a small tremor coursing through her arms and legs. She's dressed in a hoodie, tights, a mini skirt, and combat boots. A tinge of pity twists in my stomach as I wonder how long she's been out here in the cold.
"'Sup, Mr. O…. Mind if I crash here for tonight?" A half grin disguises any trace of trouble from her face.
April and I exchange a brief look before we both offer her a smile and April helps her up. "Come on, Simone, its freezing out here. I think we have some hot cocoa mix inside."
"Awesome! You got any of those marshmallows that look like little Christmas trees?" As the girls scurry out of the cold and into our apartment, I pull out my cell phone again.
"…Nora? ...Simone was waiting on the steps when we got home. She can spend the night here, just to give you two some space… is that alright? I'll make sure the girls get to school on time in the morning."
"Oh, thank God! ...Yes, yes that's fine, I'm just glad she's okay. Kirby, I'm so sorry…. seems like everyone and their momma deal with Simone better than I can. Why can't she be more like your April?"
With trepidation, I think of my baby girl and how she's managed to entangle herself with some amazing yet uncanny individuals. "Trust me, Nora. Sometimes the grass only appears greener on the other side."
"So are you going to tell me what happened between you and your mom?" I prod my best friend as she presses a mountain of marshmallows into her hot cocoa. We're both sitting on my bed draped in blankets to ward off the chilliness until the heater kicks in.
She sucks her teeth before rolling her eyes. "She's just trippin' 'cause I came in a little late. She'll be 'ight." Frowning at the dismissive tone, I can't help but be a little concerned. I thought Simone and her mom were doing okay, or at least better. My questioning lips are interrupted by Simone as she leans in toward me with this huge grin on her face. "Giiiirl, that party was crunk! Music was tight, the guys were hot. It was straight bangin'….. until the po-po showed up... they were a total buzzkill, bustin' up everything, sayin' we were too loud and crap…. and I was soooo close to making 'Butterfinger' Brandon my personal play toy …" She gives a comical exaggerated sigh. "So then I heard some girls talkin' about another party that was poppin' and since it was way too early to go home I thought 'what the heck?' and crashed that party, too. Found out later it was a hockey-jock party… ugh, and dog-breath Casey was there, but I still managed to enjoy myself." She concludes her tale with a smug smile before downing half her cocoa.
I give her a knowing look, the same look I always give her when she makes questionable decisions. "You know, your mom was really worried about you, Simone."
"More like she was worried about her welfare check."
"Simone!"
"Look, any other time I'd humor you and pretend to listen to your good-natured lectures, but right now I just want revel in the awesomeness of my party-crashing while my best friend tells me how her boyfriend is doing."
I blink at how quickly Simone just flipped the script on me, completely avoiding the topic of her mother while simultaneously putting the attention on me and…. Donatello. So much has happened so fast, it's hard to retain it all…. Even harder to explain it without explaining it to my best friend. I clear my throat as she looks at me expectantly.
"He's really sick, Simone."
"What's wrong with him?"
My mind searches for an illness, any kind of disease to tell her. "He has a rare form of… cancer. He hid it from us for months and now it might be too late." With a mouthful of marshmallows, Simone stares at me with these unbelievably wide eyes. My chest hurts not because of the lie I just told, but because of how close to the truth the lie actually is. The mutagen poison that Donnie described is breaking down his cells, turning his own body against him just like cancer. "He could die," I whisper more to myself than Simone. The reality of those words slam into me like a glass wall, shards of fear, anger, and hurt cutting me deeply. Early, in the lair and even during the walk home with my dad, I simply allowed my mind to touch the surface of the situation, feeling the energy and emotions of those around me and reacting accordingly. But now, speaking this truthful lie to my best friend it all feels too real.
She puts her empty mug on my nightstand as her hand covers mine. I sniff back tears before they threaten to cloud my sight. She gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "Uh-uh. None of that crying. He needs your strength, not your tears." Simone's a tough girl, tougher than me, and she's right. I felt first-hand the pain and turmoil in Donnie's mind and crying about it won't make it better.
"You're right. I'm going to be there for him." I take a deep breath, pulling myself together in the process. "My dad's going to talk to some… specialists and see if they can help with treatment." As confident as I try to sound, I know most of the 'specialist' work will simply be my dad's personal research and under the table networking with some colleagues. God, I hope he can come up with something…. anything.
"With Mr. O doing his thing and you by his side, it sounds like Donnie's got a winning team."
I return her smile with one of my own. I really hope she's right.
Rolling over toward my nightstand with a sigh, I squint at my alarm clock's blurry numbers . I widen my eyes to bring things into focus. 3 o'clock in the morning. Closing my eyes, I roll over again, turning my back toward the offending red numbers. My eyes blink open again to the calming silhouettes of my room. Even in this tranquility, my mind cannot find rest. I sluggishly turn over with a groan, facing the ceiling. My body reminds me we have training in three hours, but my mind refuses to obey my need for sleep. A fluttering numbness radiates from my center to my limbs. The tingling lingers in my fingertips before gradually fading. Mikey calls the sensation 'the brodar,' a kind of sixth sense when it comes to my brothers. I often scoff at my youngest brother's silly theories. He says I always know when something's wrong, when one of my brothers needs me. If it's true…. if I do have some kind of internal brother S.O.S. radar, then I think it's broken. Thinking back over the past two months, I sigh with regret. The signs leading up to Donnie's current dilemma were all there. I saw them.
Initially, I tried to reach out to him, but after a handful of his boorish remarks, I left him alone. I just didn't bother anymore. The prickly sensation in my limbs returns as my guilt settles into my core. It was enough dealing with Raph's constant challenge of my leadership and Mikey's blink-of-an-eye attention span. Donnie's sudden demeanor change was the proverbial last straw. I was fed up with his new attitude. Out of my three brothers, it was easier to just ignore Donnie's behavior while I dealt with my other two brothers. Donnie's issues were the least verbalized, but it didn't mean they were insignificant…. I see that now.
At times, I resent this mantle of responsibility. My brothers and I always look out for one another, but at the end of the day I'm held accountable for their shortcomings and mistakes. Sometimes, I just want to be accountable for me. That selfish thought nearly cost Donatello his life. I won't make that mistake again.
Heeding to the call of my inner 'brodar,' I swing my legs over the edge of my bed, rising effortlessly as I step out of my room. I don't bother to check on my baby brother because I can hear Mikey snoring from the hallway. The dojo light is on and accompanied by a steady cadence of grunts and dull thuds against the punching bag…. Raph.
Mikey called and texted my hot-headed brother for two hours before he finally decided to 'show up.' I thought Master Splinter was going to give him Hashi and from the look on Raph's face, so did he. To his surprise and mine, Sensei simply sighed and reiterated his order to stay in the lair. My brother was smart and didn't push his luck. Unseen, I stand outside the dojo a few moments listening to the punches against the sandbag.
Usually, Raph's punches and kicks sound erratic and wild when he's upset, but now they sound steady and focused. Maybe he's finally getting a hold of his anger. Not wanting to disturb whatever peace he's found in the punching bag, I soundlessly head for Donnie's room. As I approach the cracked door, my stomach flutters with anxiety. He's been asleep for hours, since Master Splinter left his room. I'm sure he's fine, probably still asleep.
I start back toward my room, but pause as an unfamiliar sound wisps past my ear slits. Soft light illuminates a small area outside Donnie's door. Peering inside, my eyes search for the source of the whispers until they find Donnie. He's sitting lotus style on the floor in a crumpled mess of his bedsheets. At first I have no idea what he's muttering to himself, but after listening a few more minutes I realize it's the healing mantra Master Splinter taught him. The door creaks when I open it more to slide into the room, but Donnie doesn't seem to notice. He's completely absorbed in reciting those therapeutic words.
"R-r-rin… Pyo, T-t-toh, Shhh-ha, Retsu…" In the glow of the lampshade, I can see Donnie's pained expression as he stumbles erroneously through the Healing Hands. His mismatched hands follow his words, but the motions are clumsy as he tries to make his deformed left hand match the movements of his right. I waste no time joining him on the floor. Closing my eyes, I speak the mantra silently within my spirit until a warm presence covers my anxiety like a medicine, coating me with its healing properties. It's a small sphere of white light, smaller than an orange. This mantra is still new to me, so it's all that I can muster. When I'm confident the ball of light won't flicker out of existence, I let it guide me to Donnie. As I clasp Donnie's hands between my own, the white light of healing flows to him, taking a bit of my energy with it. I open my eyes as his shaking diminishes to tremors before completely disappearing all together. I smile to myself, thankful I'm finally doing something right for my br—
Donnie's eyes sudden snap open; his pupils are pinpoints with something akin to horror on his face. He snatches his hands away from me, taking a harsh breath as his shell bumps the nightstand behind him. I steady the small lamp on his nightstand before it can topple over from the impact.
"No, no… it's okay, Donnie. It's just me, Leo." That declaration only succeeds in making him gasp for more air. Wheezing, he grips the front of his plastron. "Are you hurt?" He shakes his head side to side sharply, but I still push his hand aside to investigate the area of his upper plastron. There's nothing there, not even a scratch.
"Donnie what's wrong? ...Is it the mutation?"
Another harsh head shake. "No… f-fine," he wheezes. His eyes squeeze shut. He is not fine. He's gulping in air too quickly and his breathing is too shallow. Is he hearing that voice again? ….did he have a nightmare?
Doing the first instinctual thing that comes to mind, I tug him firmly to my plastron hoping the gesture will calm him down. "Come on, Donnie…. Deep breaths." He shakes his head roughly against me, trying his hardest to pull away. I continue to say encouraging things to him, keeping my voice mellow and my breathing controlled, hoping he will follow suit. Unfortunately, what I want to be a soothing gesture only causes him further agitation as he shoves against me. When his breathing speeds up and he chokes trying to take his breath, I swallow my pride and reluctantly let him go.
He stumbles away from me like my touch is poisonous. Gasping harshly again, he grips the top of his plastron. His chest staggers outward as he tries to take a deep breath. Trying again, this time, he taps his thumb against his plastron and manages to take a more meaningful breath. He breathes out, still tapping his plastron. As his breathing slows, I realize each thumping tap is a count…. seven taps for every inhale and eleven for the exhales. I don't know what just happened or how he knew what to do, but he does. Even under unknown distress, Donatello doesn't need the help of his big brother.
Watching his self-soothing actions slowly take effect, I feel like I've been stabbed in the chest with my own katana. He shouldn't have to struggle through this alone. I'm right here, ready and willing to take on my brother's demons, but he won't let me. Instead of trust, there's an gleam of fear in his eyes.
No thanks to me, he's not wheezing anymore. I don't say anything right away, allowing the sound of my brother's soft breathing in through his nostrils and out through his mouth to fill the room.
"Donnie, talk to me. What just happened?" I ask, keeping my voice soft and low as I swallow my guilt of ignorance.
"A sudden episode of intense fear triggering a severe physical reaction when in fact there's no real danger. Symptoms include feelings of losing control, heart palpations, chest pain, choking sensation, hyperventilation…" His eyes are focused on the space between us. As he continues his monotone list of medical descriptions, he still doesn't look at me. I'm starting to realize just how upset my little brother is.
My eyes narrow in concentration as I try my best to follow his evasive explanation. "Are you saying you had some kind of panic attack?" I question, interrupting him to try and simplify his diagnosis before it gets too lengthy.
"…More like an anxiety attack. They're typically short-lived and not as severe as a full-fledged panic attack. I'm fine now." He tries to dismiss my concern but I'm not so easily swayed.
"These attacks have triggers, right?" He looks a little shocked at my educated questioning. I may not be a genius like my brother, but basic sense doesn't elude me. "Did you have a nightmare?"
"It's not important… anxiety is nothing more than increased levels of adrenaline and cortisol in the body…. I'm okay now." His persistent persuasion only rings warning bells in my mind.
"This is important, Donnie. If nightmares are causing these anxiety attacks, then—"
"The nightmare didn't give me anxiety." His words rush pass his lips as his skin briefly blushes red in his obvious embarrassment, before returning to its new neutral brown color. I tilt my head curiously at him. If the nightmare didn't give him anxiety then what caused it?
Donnie was calming down after I did the Healing Hands, but as soon as he opened his eyes, as soon as he saw me, that's when he started freaking out and… My mouth opens and closes as a sudden understanding clicks in my mind.
"So me being here is giving you anxiety?" I try not to sound as wounded as I feel, but it's hard. I'm his brother. I'm supposed to bring him comfort, not panic attacks. His silence is all the answer I need. As much as I want to be here for him, if my presence is hurting him, I won't stay.
"I'm sorry."
I stop, half way between sitting and standing. His apology catches me off guard, because he has nothing to apologize for. He hugs his knees to his chest.
Closing his eyes with a sigh, his voice is low. "I didn't want you to see me like this."
"Like what?" I ask, slowly sitting down beside him.
"Like... Like this." He tosses his arms in the air motioning to himself before wiping his eyes with the back of his arm. Shame is etched deep into his features; shame that has no place on my brother's face.
"You don't have to be fine, Donnie, and I'm sorry I made you feel like you needed to be."
As he blinks at me through glossy eyes, I can see his guard is still up, afraid for me to see this vulnerability that he's managed to hide from me for months. This is my chance to make this right. Closing my eyes for a moment, I bring Sensei's words to my remembrance:
You know their strengths and weaknesses; what breaks them and what pushes them forward. You know what makes each of them react.
"Donnie, how did you know you were having an anxiety attack?" I ask casually.
"Well, after the whole Fungus Humongous encounter, I wanted to be prepared in case there were residual side effects of the fungus fumes…. anxiety attacks, for example. I researched self-treatments and practiced a few techniques on myself, to ensure they could be executed quickly and effectively. I guess the information came in handy even if it wasn't used for its intended purpose."
As he talks, I watch the tension in his drawn shoulders slowly unwind. Asking about facts and information always makes Donatello 'react' so to speak, putting him at ease. However, I realize his mini-lecture on mushrooms and hallucinations is also a cozy place for my logic-bound brother to hide from what's really bothering him.
For a while, it's quiet again, but I can easily hear the wheels turning in my brothers head. "How did you know how to do—"
"The Healing Hands?" He nods as I complete his sentence. "When we returned from your spiritual plane, while you were.… resting, I asked Master Splinter to show me. I know mediation is challenging for you, so I wanted to learn it in case you needed some help." I offer him a smile, showing what I hope is a step toward dependability on my part.
"I'm sorry." As much as I want to tell him to stop apologizing, I hold my peace and wait. After a few moments of prodding a loose scale on his arm, my patience is rewarded as he continues. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. The radiation properties were practically staring me in the face…. if I would have put the pieces together sooner, I'm sure I could have fixed this and you guys wouldn't be in this predicament." I frown as Donnie refers to himself as a 'predicament', as if he is a problem or inconvenience to us. "You have enough on your plate without having this to worry about. When Mr. O'Neil comes back, I'll see what alternatives he recommends and I'll do everything in my power to fix this."
He looks at me with a subtle stubbornness, still refusing to share his burden. Donnie's always been pretty self-reliant, never relying on anyone for help because… well, he always has everything figured out.
My heart drops with guilt at that lie. Deep down, I know Donnie wasn't always so autonomous.
If anything, I encouraged this independent nature to a detrimental fault. A cluster of memories come to mind when Donnie sought comfort and trusted me to make things better. Somewhere along the way he started trusting more in his own reasoning than the intangible reassurances of his older brother. I need to change that.
"I want this to be over with just as badly as you do, but not because you're a problem—because you're my brother." He breaks eye contact with me at the mention of the word 'brother', but I ignore his avoidance as I scoot closer to him until our shells clank softly at the side-to-side contact. "I'm sorry, Donatello." My apology perks his attention as he chances a glance at me, resting his head on his drawn knees. "You haven't been yourself for months, and I didn't notice there was something really wrong until things were too far out of hand."
He offers me a twitch of a smile. "Well, I didn't exactly make it easy for you guys to figure it out. I mean, how could you have possibly known I was mutating? ….I didn't even know I was mutating."
"I still should have realized something was wrong. I let you down in a major way and I'm so sorry for that." I don't try to hide the guilt from my voice. Right, now he has every right to rip into me for the ways I've ignored and neglected him as my brother and I'll sit here and take every venomous word that's pressed in his heart to scream at me.
I dare to look up and find him staring at me with anything but anger in his eyes. "You didn't let me down, Leo. I wasn't really looking for you to hold me up." The sincerity in which he says those innocent words grips something deep within me, because he shouldn't think this way. He should always look for me to hold him up. Always.
"And that's where I've let you down." There's a slight look of confusion on his face, so I press on. "Donnie, you've always been levelheaded. I could just leave you on autopilot and not have to worry because I knew I could rely on your sensibility. Chores, training, missions, whatever—you're my backbone and confidant when being leader gets a little… stressful." He remains silent throughout my admission and I can only hope he understands how important he is to my sanity at times. "I'm trying to get a handle on this leadership thing, and I've made a lot of mistakes along the way."
I suck in my bottom lip, rolling it out with a sigh. "These past few months, I only saw how you weren't there to fix this and solve that…. I put responsibilities on you that weren't yours to carry alone. That wasn't fair…. it wasn't right and I'm sorry." I look up to see him staring at me as if studying the validity of my words. "After the factory mission went south, I knew you were trying to tell me what was really going on with you, but I was being stupid. I shut you down and blamed you instead." His lips tighten into a sorrowful grimace as I speak and I wonder just how deeply my hurtful words and actions have wounded my brother. I swallow back my emotions. "I know I don't deserve it, but if you could somehow forgive me and give me a second chance to be the brother I should have been, I promise I won't let you down again."
I hold my breath, waiting for his response….. any response to my remorseful apology.
"Leo, do you remember when we were twelve and I drank those protein shakes?"
I sit up a little straighter at the random question. However, I remind myself I am not talking to Mikey, the king of randomness. Donnie thrives on bridging the connections from one logical thought processes to another, so I know there is a reason for this seemingly arbitrary question. "Um, yeah, I think so," I answer as I squint at the faded memory surfacing in my mind. "Or at least I remember how horrible they looked and smelled."
He chuckles a humorless laugh at the memory. "Yes, they were a colorful concoction of peanut butter, raw eggs, acorns, bread, broccoli, and milk."
My face scrunches into a grimace at the nauseating combination of those foods into a drink. No wonder he was sick all week. "Why on earth did you drink something so awful? That sounds worse than Mikey's 'P-shake.'"
"It seemed practical at the time, but in retrospect it was just downright ridiculous." With an amused smile and raised brows, I wait for my brainy brother to continue his trip down memory lane. "At the time, we were all in various stages of puberty and I was studying our anatomy development. Even at twelve, it was pretty obvious Raph was going to be the muscle and I was going to be... awkwardly svelte." He dwells on his wording for a moment before releasing his breath. "So after some thorough research, I concocted the homemade shakes to include as many protein-enhancing elements as possible in hopes of 'bulking up'. Unfortunately, after a week of drinking the horrible brew, my digestive system just couldn't stomach it anymore—no pun intended."
I wince in sympathy as the memory comes into full view. "I remember that. You got sick in the dojo."
He nods his confirmation. "Vomiting while performing Sakugawa no Kon is definitely not one of my fondest memories." He shakes his head with a sigh. "It was a foolish notion. Some things are strictly genetics and can't be changed no matter how many disgusting protein shakes you drink."
"So you did all that to build your muscle?" I think he would have had better results simply putting more effort into training, but I keep my unwarranted opinion to myself.
"Technically it was to build my mass, but in short, yes."
"So…. you wanted to be like Raph?" I take a stab, trying to connect the dots within this memory.
"Not in particular. At the time, you always fraternized with Raph. In comparison, Raph was a better fighter than me, stronger than me in general. Not so much due to his skill but because of his larger body mass and how he used it to pummel into pretty much everything. I concluded you deemed his bulkier anatomy more socially acceptable… I assumed it was why you always chose him instead of me when you went on your tunnel explorations."
"Donnie, I never knew you felt that way. You were always with Mikey, so I just assumed…"
"Leo, it was four years ago. It doesn't matter now." His tone is accepting as he cuts me off. He drops his head into hands, shaking it slightly side to side. "Honestly, I don't even know why I just told you that. I think all this radiation and spiritual realm stuff is finally catching up with me," he jokes, but there's no humor in his weary voice.
There was a time in our preteen years when Raph and I were inseparable, reveling in our new stench of perceived manhood, leaving our younger brothers behind as we sought out dangerous tunnels Master Splinter warned us to stay away from.
My mind snaps back to a memory we saw in Donnie's aura:
Jeez, you're such a sissy. You can't hang out with us until you grow a pair….
Even though it was a younger Raph who said those cruel words, I can only assume Donnie thought I felt the same way as he wiped tears from his dejected face.
Did I feel the same way?
Was I so eager to embrace my teenage years, to look cool and mature, that I rejected my two younger brothers? Raph has always been the one to challenge me. He often challenged me to stupid and dangerous things when we were younger and to keep his adoration I always obliged to his dares… dares I would never have accepted had my levelheaded brother, Donnie, been there to appeal to my common sense, or my 'I wanna do it, too' copycat brother, Mikey, had been there idolizing me.
Thinking back, Mikey never seemed truly bothered by me hanging out with Raph back then. Mikey was just happy to be in the company of any brother who entertained his attention and often flip-flopped between whoever tolerated his presence the longest, which was usually Donnie. Donatello was different. It was very rare that Donnie openly sought attention. And when he did, he would argue the validity of his view with facts and reason. When we waved off his intellect, he often disappeared to his lab until dinner.
Somewhere along the way, Donnie lost faith in me as his older brother, and I can't help but think that protein shakes are just the tip of the iceberg.
"Forget I said anything, Leo. It's not important," he mumbles as his hands rub slowly down his face.
I look at my tired and stressed brother, regretting all the times I didn't try harder to pull these feelings out of him. As I mull over Donnie's memories of protein shakes and excluded tunnel adventures, I know how difficult this is for him to share with me. Information and facts are easy to connect and make sense of for my ingenious brother, but matters of the heart are another story. Even now, his conjured memories seem unrelated to my apology and only makes me feel like the worst big brother in the history of big brothers. However, I force myself to look past my own feelings to see the invisible lines that connect the past to the present and everything in-between.
Me triggering his anxiety attack, his continuous apologies, his memories of rejection… by me. It's all connected to me….. or rather his lack of connection to me. Then the realization pricks me like static shock.
He wants my attention. The brother I deemed as self-reliant, has been longing for my dependability; the one I used to think was the most emotionally stable is the one terrified and embarrassed by the thought of appearing anything less than functional in my eyes.
As simple and childlike as it sounds, the warmth of intuition just below my chest confirms my thoughts. My inner 'bro-dar' is working just fine tonight. My little brother needs me. Donnie doesn't know how to express this disconnect, but I've seen it in his solitariness. As he struggles to find conception in this radiation chaos, I see the innate need to reach out to me even if he doesn't really understand it himself. Maybe he didn't have my attention when we were twelve, but he has it now.
"Anything that's important to you is important to me." I drape my arm across his shell and pull him into a half-hug. "I can't change past wounds, but I can promise you never have to drink gross protein shakes to get my attention, because you've already got it.… it's like an unwritten older brother code." The old childhood catchphrase elicits an emotional chuckle from him and I smile at the first real sign of mirth from my younger brother. Our smiles fade into silence once more.
"Donnie, you don't have to shoulder this alone…. I won't let you." He's so much taller than me that he has to slouch further on the floor so his head leans against my shoulder.
"I know….. Thanks, Leo."
I smile against the top of his head. "You should try and go back to sleep."
"Not really tired."
"Are you still thinking about that nightmare? Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"It might help..."
"I can't... Not right now." He shakes his head roughly against my shoulder and I pat his shell.
"It's okay. We can talk about whatever you like, or we can just sit here and not talk at all."
He visibly relaxes against me, knowing I'm not going to force any information from him. We sit in silence for at least an hour, with small spurts of idle conversation in between.
"It sounded crunchy like carrots, but tasted like hollandaise sauce." Jerking awake from my semi-awake state, I smother a yarn behind my hand. It was quiet for awhile and I assumed Donnie had finally fallen asleep. Another random topic, this time about carrots and some kind of.…sauce from Holland? This time his tone is much less casual and a little more distant.
"What….what are you talking about, Donnie?" I ask, but I'm not sure if I'm ready for his answer.
He doesn't answer me, but continues on with these cryptic descriptions. "His intestines were warm and moist like the algae and worms Sensei used to fix for us. He didn't scream long after I ripped out his jugular—he choked on his own blood as it foamed around his lips, begging for me to spare his life."
I keep my expression stoic, not wanting to give away how sickened I am at the vivid description of my brother's kill.
"You want to know what my nightmares are?...It's that I'll do the same to all of you." His haunted eyes stare at me like brown pools of desperation. His spoken fear pulls a protectiveness from my core that I carefully translate into words as I lock eyes with my downtrodden brother.
"You won't."
"You don't know that. According to Master Splinter, this mental wall is only temporary." He touches his temple. "Once it's gone, there will be nothing to keep me from—"
"I won't let that happen. I won't let that monster hurt you or anyone else." I remain steadfast in that promise. I refuse to see my brother and the monster brooding inside of him as one and the same. Considering my words for a moment, Donnie sighs as he resigns against my shoulder.
He doesn't think I can protect him, but I can and I will. I've made a lot of promises to Donatello tonight and I'll do whatever it takes to regain my little brother's faith in me. Meditating on positive affirmations, I find myself dozing off to the distinct whistle of peaceful snores beside me.
TBC...
A/N: Just as a little FYI, the childhood catchphrase about the 'unwritten older brother code' that Leo is referring to is also mentioned in my other story, TMNT shorties! chapter 5 "A-team vs. B-Team". ;)
Thanks for reading and as always please leave a review! Things have slowed down a bit in RL so I expect to have another chapter in about two weeks. Until next time, how about a few quotes from next chapter?...
"No one mention this to Donnie."
"Stop treating him like glass, he's stronger than that."
"Put me down!"
See you next chapter ;)