A/N: Thanks, Ravenshell for being an awesome beta! :D

Chapter 35

I remain stoic as another egg is crushed in my son's hand.

"Again."

Raphael tosses another egg to Donatello. It does not fare any better than the first.

"Sensei, this seems pointless."

"Bruh, this isn't pointless. You are totally prepping the eggs for my famous omelets!" Michelangelo is quick with optimism as he proceeds to scoop broken eggshells and yolks from the floor into a bowl.

"Michelangelo, thank you for your… resourcefulness, but that will not be necessary."

"It's no problemo, Sensei! These omelets are going to be sweet!"

"Omelets shouldn't be sweet," Leonardo interjects without looking up from his routine katana polishing.

"They shouldn't come from the floor either." Raphael offers my youngest a warning glare. "Get outta the way, you nitwit. You're messin' up Don's mojo."

"Raphael, another egg." I nip the bickering in the bud as my Michelangelo removes himself from the practice area, but not before he responds to his older brother by sticking out his tongue. "Donatello, the point is for you to adapt to your new mutations. You must mold them into an asset of your ninja skills."

Donatello still has moments of melancholy but they are few and far between, especially since he has made amends with all of his brothers. My eyes soften at my most hot-tempered. Raphael went from being absent to displaying complete dedication to Donatello's healing process.

It is high time for him to return to a form of low-maintenance training.

"Come on, Brainiac, you got this!" Raphael encourages as he throws a gentle underhand to Donatello.

The determination in Donatello's narrowed eyes is self-evident as he flexes the elongated clawed fingers of his right hand. With a keen eye, I watch as the oblong produce glides the distance between the brothers. Donatello instinctually swipes the egg from the air, but this time there is a concentrated restraint in his grasp. As he slowly opens his hand, his brothers remain unnaturally still, waiting for his reaction of failure or success.

The slow gapped smile confirms the latter as he holds the unscathed egg between two thick claws. My ears flatten at his brothers' loud congratulatory cheers. However, I do not hide my smile of pride either and when Donatello's eyes meet mine his smile grows even more. Rejoicing over catching an egg may seem trivial to most, but with our recent family upheaval we welcome any and all positivity. We are all proud of Donatello's accomplishment and thankful for this new stream of confidence that radiates from him.

As a family, we spend time on intermediate katas. Leonardo, Raphael, nor Michelangelo complain about the simplicity of the katas. They know it is for Donatello. He has spent months hiding from the abnormal changes in his body and now those changes must be confronted, embraced, and accepted. These katas will increase his agility and help his new mutations find balance with the rest of his body.

"Do not fight against the natural movements of your body, Donatello." His feet clumsily move into the next movement and his arm fumbles shortly afterward. With a sigh, he repeats the kata but the movement is even less graceful than before. "Yame." As they rest from their katas, Donatello's eyes meet the floor. "Why do you resist movements you have performed with the utmost precision in the past, my son?"

"I'm not resisting…. at least, I'm not trying to." He stretches his extended toes with an exasperated sigh.

"What hinders you?"

"I… I don't know. It's like my brain knows how I should be moving, but my body has other plans in mind."

"Hm." His brothers step back as I approach Donatello, taking his enlarged arm into my own to study it. "Then perhaps you should listen to your body. Perform the katas again, this time allowing yourself to move in the way that feels most natural." When his brothers step back into place to join him, I motion them to the sidelines beside me so Donatello can perform alone.

Taking a short breath, my tallest son closes his eyes before falling into a familiar kata. His movements start out shaky once again, but they quickly flow into something else altogether. I realize the spasmodic movements are not a hindrance but part of how his newly mutated limbs now move. His eyes are still closed as he accelerates to the next kata, his footing becoming more calculated, slowing down and speeding up as if he is preparing, building up to something more than just katas. My whiskers twitch at the fierce energy radiating from him.

Donatello has always had more logical and calculated movements, but these rational gestures are different, more predacious. I test my theory by stepping into his kata space. With surprising speed, his clawed hand aims for my chest as a low growl rumbles from his throat. It is much faster than I anticipated but not fast enough to strike me. A single step to my left keeps my torso from being ripped to shreds by his talons. My hand grips his wrist like a stone cuff. He is quick to react. His eyes darken as he twists his wrist to clutch my forearm like a vice before wrenching me toward him. With trained speed, my index finger finds a pressure point near his jugular. Falling to his knees, he releases me from his grasp.

"Donatello…" I call to him with caution before kneeling in front of him. My stance softens as he groans, rubbing the tender spot on his neck.

"Sorry," he mutters. "You…startled me." He does not seem convinced of his actions any more than I do.

"Do not apologize. You responded on an instinct beyond the jurisdictions of ninjutsu. Mr. O'Neil said your secondary mutation was more reptilian, therefore your movements are expected to be more…"

Animalistic, primal…

"…intuitive to your nature." I settle on words that will not harm my son's delicate esteem. I am quite familiar with this instinct that my son is experiencing. While under the Rat King's command, I acted in a way that was normal to my rat-kin. The predatory gleam in Donatello's eyes just moments ago was evidence of his cold-blooded nature coming to the forefront.

"This new instinct can be bridled and used to your advantage. I will teach you how…. later. You have trained well today, Donatello." Standing, I watch as Donatello stands up as well. It is still quite an adjustment to have a son my equal in height.

"Hai, Sensei." There is a mixture of disappointment and relief on Donatello's face. Giving his carapace a pat, I assure him all is fine.

My other sons walk ahead of us, bickering over who will prepare lunch. Michelangelo is quite naturally the loudest; however even his rambunctious voice does not hinder him from hearing the sharp intake of air from Donatello. Michelangelo's sudden silence causes a domino effect with Leonardo and Raphael who also turn back to Donatello and I.

"Donatello. Are you alright?" He looks down. I follow his gaze to a spot of egg yolk my youngest did not fully clean from the dojo floor. Donatello's elongated toes cringe under the slimy substance as he shakily steps back. "Donatello," I call to him again as his pupils become the size of pinpoints. He continues to stare at the yolk on the floor as his breathing becomes shallow within moments. My whiskers twitch and I huff to myself for not catching this bout of anxiety sooner.

"Blood." I barely catch the word as Donatello mutters to himself. He takes another step back, another step away from me and his brothers.

"Donatello, there is no blood. Simply eggs from our training, yes?" I try reasoning with him only for my most logical son to shake his head in the most illogical way.

"No… no… there's blood, get it off!" He scrapes his feet against the floor to rid himself of the imagined blood.

"Calm yourself. Look around you. You are safe, Donatello." Taking my troubled son gently by the shoulders, I give them an encouraging squeeze. "There is no blood." Even as I try to ease him into a calmer state, I find myself disturbed by these sudden delusions. Donatello usually describes his spells of anxiety as thoughts racing off a proverbial track or a sense of irrational fear, but never have they been accompanied by hallucinations.

"Arggh!" He presses the palms of his hands against his temples as I do my best to talk him out of whatever waking nightmare his mind is showing him.

It was blood, his blood. I could feel it, thick and tacky under my feet. I'm in the sewers. It's where I killed him…. ripped him apart like an animal. It's his blood under my feet. Sensei says it isn't blood, but he wasn't there. He wasn't there to hear muscles squelch or arteries pull and snap like a plastic hose spilling fluid everywhere…. spilling blood everywhere. Master Splinter isn't here, neither are my brothers. I'm alone with this blood congealing to my feet and—

"Donatello, open your eyes."

Master Splinter wasn't here… I mean he isn't here. He isn't here and the guy is dead. I killed him.

"Yes, I am here. So are your brothers. We are here and you are here with us."

Their voices are confusing, because it sounds like my family but they weren't here… they aren't here…. my head hurts. My knees buckle but I don't feel the expected impact of the ground. Hands guide my body, embrace me as I'm slowly lowered against something… someone soft and familiar.

"Open your eyes, Donatello." This time, despite my fear of the hellish murder scene I am certain to see, I listen to my father's voice. Frowning, I look around to find myself tucked against Sensei's side with my three brothers forming a half circle around us. This can't be right. My family's not supposed to be here, they're not supposed to see this heinous act of violence.

"How…. how did you get here?"

"Bruh, we've been here the whole time. You're the one who spaced out on us," Mikey jokes with a smile, but the constant fidgeting with his wrist wrappings tells me he's worried. One look around and I know I'm not in the sewers like I originally thought I was. I'm in the dojo. My feet feel crusted and sticky.

"But I was in the sewer; there's blood on my—" My words are immediately cut short when I look at the bottom of my foot only to find the remnants of eggs on my soles.

"What do you remember, Donatello?"

I stare at my father. What exactly does he want me to say? I remember my heart racing as I stalked an innocent sewer worker. I remember his pleading for life and the short scream that accompanied his death. I also remember a bloodlust so strong just thinking about it makes my head hurt. Cupping my head in my hands I try to press against the throbbing in my skull. Warm hands gently pull my hands away from my face. Sensei turns from his kneeled position to face me and I suddenly miss the warmth of his robe. I sigh when he probes me again for an answer. As I rethink what I remember something tells me it's not exactly what I'm supposed to be remembering. But I know it happened, I remember it happened. I look over the faces of my brothers for any clues but they look just as confused as I feel right now.

Then I look down at the egg yolk and pieces of shell still stuck to my feet. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath as another set of memories resurfaces. "Practice…. we were practicing…. catching eggs."

"Yes, that is right. Keep going."

"I was practicing katas and I... I attacked you…. but you said it was instinct, and then I stepped on eggs, but I thought it was blood and…." I fumble through these moments of remembrance until my memory goes crimson red with bones and gore. "I had an anxiety attack."

"But you have never had such vivid hallucinations with these attacks before." Master Splinter's right. This is new. "Be still." Before I can ask why, his hands hold the sides of my face with his thumbs over my temples.

"It's trying to get out, Sensei." I frown, ready to question my younger brother's words, until Master Splinter's thumbs press firmly against the front of my head, silencing me.

With a thoughtful hum, he releases his hold on my face. "You are right, Michelangelo. This darkness presses relentlessly against the mental wall in your mind. We must meditate to strengthen the wall again."

I nod with little enthusiasm. Honestly, I can't help but think there must be another way to stop these anxiety attacks before they completely dominate my life.

"I want to go to the sewers….. where it happened."

"No. It is too dangerous."

"But you said the police left a week ago."

"It is not the police I am concerned about, it is you."

"Master Splinter, I really think this will help me get over this anxiety. The meditation helps but it's not enough; I went from irrational fear to delusions and it's only going to get worse if I don't confront the source of the fear."

"My son, this is not as simple as physically facing a fear. There are more things at stake."

"More things at stake? ...I wake up in cold sweats with the taste of blood in my mouth. I still hear that guy's screams in my head, see his body ripped to shreds in my head!" I jab my temple with my finger, riding the emotional waves somersaulting in my chest. "If I can just go back to that tunnel, see that nothing's there, then…. then maybe I can have a little peace of mind."

I watch as my father's ears drop and think for a moment that he will see my reasoning, understand my logic and let me go to the tunnels.

"You are not ready. You are not to leave the lair, do you understand?" His tone is soft but resolved as he waits for my confirmation of obedience. With a slight nod, my shoulders droop. "Donatello and I will join all of you shortly." Catching the hint quickly, my brothers give a respectful bow before leaving the dojo, although Raph lingers a moment or two before disappearing as well.

"Sometimes healing takes place in segments. As the body heals, so will the mind and spirit."

I massage my temple to ease a sore spot. "Please, Sensei. I just need to survey the area for myself and—"

"Donatello, if you keep scratching, you are bound to leave an irreversible scar."

I don't understand what he means but I concede with a sigh as we prepare for meditation.

TBC...

A/N: Hello Everyone! Thanks so much for the love and support of this story. Chapters are slow at times but always forthcoming ;) As always, please review!

See you next chapter!

Poetique