Well, we've reached the end of Act 2. There will be a break next week while I'm recovering from 3 concerts, 2 auctions, and about 20 extra hours of volunteering. But after that we'll be on to Act 3.
For those who missed it, the theme-song for this Act is "M.I.N.E. (End This Way)" by Five Finger Death Punch. Honestly, I think it's one of the most appropriate of all the theme-songs for the entire series. I strongly recommend it.
Also, if you've left me reviews and I haven't replied, please accept my apologies! This doesn't happen on AO3 that I can see, but I haven't been getting notifications from FFnet and so I think I've missed at least one person. When I get back with Act 3, I'll try to do better about making sure I'm replying to every comment. If a chapter goes up and you don't get a response from me in the same day, shoot me a DM. Okay? I love chatting with all of you about what you think as this story unravels.
Warning: There is MUCH discussion of extremely unsanitary bio-hazards (the sort you might expect to find in a sewer, really) in this chapter. I kept the details to a minimum, but be prepared for a serious ick factor.
Talk to you in two weeks!
Enjoy!
Chapter 5: Worse
A week later, everything fell apart – literally and figuratively.
It had been close to five months since Usagi had first asked the Hamato Clan to journey to his world and assist him. Donatello had been home for a little over a month, but he was the only one. Raphael had spent about half of every day in the lair and the other half back in Usagi's dimension for most of that time; Leonardo had only visited once or twice, as he was hesitant to leave the Daimyo or the han for long, and Michelangelo and Splinter had not returned at all.
The lair was just beginning to take shape, with its most important features like the sensor net and the utilities up and running – what remained were all the tedious details and setup that transformed a stable, somewhat-fortified place into a home. Meanwhile, the Shogun had sent a message to Lord Kawauso to await further orders while he dealt directly with Nezumi, and the Daimyo had not yet found or named another Heir.
In other words, everything was in a holding pattern, as though waiting for something to give way.
What no one expected to give way was the sewer main that ran just above the ceiling of the lair.
Donatello was sleeping uneasily when he first heard the creak of pipes above; he found he could not sleep particularly well now that Raph was gone overnight. Although the lair had all the alarms and sensors he'd built so far functioning correctly, there was still an awful sort of vulnerability in being alone. All the previous lairs had been attacked at some point – so Don feared falling too deeply asleep and missing the alarms if they sounded in this incarnation, too.
However, even if he had been profoundly asleep, he wouldn't have missed the low groan of metal fatigue that echoed through the empty lair.
Don leaped out of bed, grabbing his bo on the way. He sprinted to the door of his mostly-still-filled-with-boxes room and ran for the light-switch along the wall by the stairs down to the lower level.
As light flooded the lair, Don looked up to the ceiling.
"Oh, this is not good," he said aloud. He could see a crack in the plaster panel above the center of the lair, and water was starting to drip from it.
Donatello had exactly enough time to consider how bad things were about to get before he was proven exponentially incorrect.
When the sewer main gave way, it unleashed a torrent of filthy wastewater, smashing through several ceiling tiles and pouring revolting fluid and not-fluid in a truly horrible waterfall right into the lair.
Donatello didn't have time to delay. And though it was absolutely, positively the last thing he wanted to do, he had no choice but to throw himself right into dealing with the river of sewage. Don spared just enough time to duck back into his bedroom for the most necessary supplies. In one bag he'd dropped there only a week or so before he found one of his old dolphin tanks complete with mask, headlamp, and goggles that had survived the destruction of the last lair. It didn't have a full store of oxygen, but hopefully it had enough. Then he grabbed for his upstairs toolkit.
Thinking of what he would have to do, Donatello stripped out of all his pads and even his belt and mask. Then he emptied the toolkit of everything he thought he might need and tossed it all into a plastic bag that he taped to his waist like a pocket.
The only way for Donatello to get where he was going was from above, so he set off for one of the heating ducts that was big enough and well-mounted enough to hold his weight briefly. He crawled into the shaft, resolutely not looking down at the floor of the lair that was rapidly becoming a river of brown, nightmare-fuel liquid. From within the heating duct, he made his way to the top of the lair and popped off an upper grate to get into the tunnel above.
Sure enough, a pipe at least as big around as Donatello's shell was wide had ruptured.
It's been probably two minutes. Not enough for anyone in the city to have noticed, but the drop in pressure at the treatment plant might draw some attention if they're watching for it. Even so, it's the middle of the night. They won't check the equipment and dispatch anyone to this area of the sewers until the morning shift. I've got a couple of hours to get this repaired before anyone starts thinking to poke around down here.
Because that was the real risk – of course Donatello was not happy about the idea of having to replace whatever was ruined or contaminated by the wastewater below, but things could be replaced and contamination could be cleaned. What could not be undone was humans exploring this area under the city and finding the lair. And maybe its inhabitant.
It wasn't just to have indoor plumbing that Donatello had taught himself how to fix and manage the sewer pipes; for years, he had been servicing the entire sewer within range of the lair just to make sure everything was working perfectly and no one would ever have cause to come looking. In recent years, he had even forged inspection orders and reports and had dumped them into the appropriate computer systems so that city officials or the various agencies that coordinated care over the sewers would find the confirmations that all appropriate work was done and there was no reason to send anyone down.
It's a good thing the sewers in New York are handled by so many different agencies. If it was one group, somebody would probably figure out that nobody was getting down into a particular area and they might come poking around. But because it's all those different groups sharing responsibilities, they all assume someone else is behind the inspections and reports.
And that's why nobody will notice this break in time to send anyone before I get it repaired.
Of course, it would be easier to do this if I could shut off the flow upstream, but if I do that without opening up a reserve, the whole system might back up...and explode. Won't be able to hide it then.
So there was no choice.
Donning his breathing mask, Donatello crawled directly into the sludge pouring from the pipe.
Don't think about it. Don't think about it. If I vomit in my mask, I don't have another one. It's just like swimming in a really murky pond. That's all. Don't think about why it's warmish...or what the solid bits are. It's just mud. Just mud from a pond. It's just mud.
Donatello had perhaps never been so grateful for the mental disciplines instilled by his father. Repeating his mantra, he managed to force down his urge to retch. He crawled until he was lying directly under the pipe, its flow swirling around him as it fell towards the lair, and he pulled on a pair of old oven mitts.
Thank shell for all that time in the future with Cody. I don't know what I'd do without this.
Because amidst all the sightseeing, supervillain-thwarting, and future-world exploring, Donatello had spent a huge amount of time studying advanced technology too, Earth and alien, and had picked up a few tricks. The flashier stuff had gone into the computer system from the pump station lair, to say nothing of the equipment to digitize living matter and reproduce it on the internet. But he had not only studied computers and engineering.
And while there were many, many things he couldn't yet recreate in his own time, this particular material was not one of them.
Don reached into the bag at his side, now soaked and slippery – With mud, he told himself firmly – and grabbed the container of brightly orange goo. He also grabbed a couple of plastic sandwich bags, which he pulled over his mitts to protect them.
They're fine in the mud. Because it is mud. Just mud. But I do not want this stuff sinking through to my skin. So I have to move fast. It'll react with the plastic inside three minutes.
Donatello had to bring the container very close to his face to see it amidst the brown water, and he had to open it carefully, away from his body so that it wouldn't wash onto him.
The instant, the very moment he took the top off the container and some waste sluiced into it, the orange goo began to expand and heat rapidly as it reacted to the presence of water. Donatello couldn't pause, couldn't hesitate, or it would become too hot for him to touch without incurring serious injury. He scooped it up into his hands and began slathering it across the pipe, beginning at one end of the jagged hole and moving sideways.
When the orange goo came into contact with the metal, it heated even faster, hardening as it did so. Don wiped it like clay to cover and patch the hole in the pipe. As fast as he moved, the orange substance continued to get hotter and more solid and he had to race the chemical reaction or risk running out.
By the time Donatello was wiping the last bit of it that he could still mold over the far end of the crack in the pipe, his raw, burned fingers felt fused to the inside of the oven mitts and the plastic bags on the outside were stretched and melted almost to the point of uselessness. But at least the crack was completely plugged.
I'll have to let that finish curing and then probably weld an outside shell to reinforce the entire pipe. This section's corroded the worst, but the whole thing is weak. I'll have to build a full pipe to surround this one if I don't want a repeat of this.
And I do not want a repeat of this. Ever.
Donatello turned to peer downwards, the lights from the lair illuminating the space below him.
Looks like the world's worst swimming pool. Oh shell.
Donatello's ninja speed was the only reason he was able to crawl along the pipes reach to one of the normal tunnels with runoff flowing freely before he finally lost control of his stomach.
It felt like he was sick for hours, but it was probably only a few minutes. Don actually dropped to sit in the runoff, fully aware that it was dirty street water and probably had its own share of urine and worse in it, but it was running and it wasn't specifically waste and that made it an improvement.
But there's no real point in showering. Not with a whole lair to clean.
Donatello pulled himself out of the fetid water and gathered up his stuff, heading towards the front entrance of the lair.
I guess I'm actually glad nobody else was here. Nobody should have to deal with this. Well, me included, but I am here and I'll deal. Better me than anyone else. Imagine Master Splinter's sense of smell!
Even so, when Donatello opened the door to the lair and a trickle of waste rolled over his feet, he almost wanted to give up. It took everything he had to rally.
Come on. We live in a sewer. This is part of the charming ambiance. Now get to work. The longer it stays here, the worse it'll be to clean.
He was still working hours later when Raph appeared.
Raph's habit was to use the portal stick to travel to the other dimension in the evenings, but to wait for Leonardo to use the dimensional portal spell to send him back in the mornings. Don had noticed that Leo's spell always manifested in the same spot in the lair, probably the center of the area Leo was envisioning as he cast it, so Don had made sure that area was clear, at least. Right to one side of where the magical doorway appeared, he left a chair with a face-mask on it.
"Hey Donnie! Oh SHELL!"
Raph stepped from the gateway and immediately clapped both hands to his face, coughing at the horrific smell. His eyes fell on the mask and he pulled it on.
"Donnie! What the shell happened here?" Raph demanded.
Don looked up from where he was crawling under his computer station, pulling out cords that had been contaminated and trying to decide which, if any, he could salvage. Above his own papery mask, his eyes were red from lack of sleep and stress, and his body was streaked with the foulness that was everywhere.
"What does it look like happened?" Don asked, his voice short and clipped. "A sewage line blew. Flooded the lair."
Raph couldn't bear the idea of just walking through the awfulness that was pooled across the floor. It wasn't deep, given the size of the lair, but the entire floor was wet and covered with a layer of brownish, yellowish fluid where there wasn't solid material congealed together in a disgusting mass. He crouched low and jumped, landing on the armchair at the edge of what they had planned to be the TV area. He cringed as the chair rocked and squished, but the cushion under his feet was dry.
Raph fought to get his bearings in the unexpected and incredibly nauseating situation.
"Why didn't you come get help?" he asked.
Don turned back to his work. "Tell me how quickly you and Leo would have come through if I'd woken you up in the middle of the night to tell you that we had gallons of human waste smeared all over our floor. If the Foot had attacked, you'd have moved pretty quick, but honestly, what would you have said?"
Raph cringed. "I'd have said you should take a bath and go to sleep and we'd look at it in the morning."
"Right, but by then some things would be ruined beyond saving and the contamination would have time to spread." Don sighed. "I'm sorry. It's been a long night and definitely the most repulsive of my life. I've just been in survival mode."
"I can see that." Raph looked around. The ceiling was a horror show, and so was most of the floor, but he could also tell that his brother had been working his tail off, too. Things that had stayed dry had been shoved to one side clear of the mess. Every light in the place was on and the fans had been shut down to keep from blowing the contamination everywhere. The upstairs doors had been closed and some things had been relocated up to the balcony.
Even so, it was going to be days if not weeks of work to get things back to where they were supposed to be. Raph knew that every item in the lair would have to be scrubbed and disinfected, and if it couldn't be washed thoroughly enough, like the chair on which he perched, it would have to be disposed of entirely.
"How bad is the damage?" he asked.
Don paused and sat back on his heels, his knees covered with muck. He began listing things off as his gaze swept around.
"The doors to Master Splinter's room and all the mats inside are a total loss. It's a good thing the relics weren't here or those would be gone, too. The dojo didn't have mats yet, and not a lot got in there, but I'm worried about the wooden practice weapons. The furniture is almost a total loss because I don't want to risk the wooden legs of chairs picking anything up, but the dishes will be okay to wash. The fridge should be okay if I clean it out. The bathroom is fine. All the stuff upstairs, well, I'll have to see. I've never been so glad Mikey kept all his comics in plastic boxes!"
"What about your stuff?" Raph asked.
Don's eyes closed. "My most important computer supplies were up on a table, and most of those I can clean. But everything we had out like the cords and all my new monitors are probably a bust."
Then he looked up. "Raph, I'm sorry. Your bike…"
"Yeah, I figured." His voice was low and gruff and it took a brother to hear the hurt and loss in it. But he hadn't missed that his bike had been pretty close to where the sewage had fallen from above and was coated in the stuff. Floating on a pile of offal beside it was the stained and saturated remains of what had been the To Do List.
"We'll start over as soon as we can," Don promised.
Raphael was a fearless warrior who had cut his way out of giant bug monsters, had battled mutants that exploded all over him, had faced any number of disgusting situations. And he reminded himself of it as he lowered one foot to the floor, feeling the cold, dense water cling to his skin.
"You don't have to stay," Don said quietly, watching his brother fight the urge to gag.
Raph shook his head. "I know that." He walked gingerly across the lair, avoiding the piles of more solid material as best he could. He picked up the portal stick and carried it to Don.
"Let's call Leo and let him know."
Don talked Raph through operating the portal stick as his own hands were not clean and he didn't want to ruin the thing, and in moments they were facing their brother.
"I'm really sorry this happened," Leo said after they explained – and demonstrated – the situation. "Look, if it's too much for you, come back here and get a bath, okay? This isn't something you have to handle right now."
Don rolled his eyes to Raph. "See? Predictable." He sighed. "Leo, the longer it takes to clean this up, the more contamination will spread and the harder it will be to get rid of whatever germs are currently infesting our home."
Leo looked slightly uncomfortable.
Don frowned. "Or do you not care about our home anymore?"
"It's not that I don't care. It's just...it seems stupid to worry about a place we're not going to be living in for months. And…"
Don knew Leo well enough to read what he didn't have the heart to say yet, maybe what Leo hadn't even fully realized he was feeling: And I'm not sure I'll want to come home at all.
Raph scowled. "Well, it's great for you living all cozy over there, but those of us that gotta be here are stuck with this mess!"
"You're not really stuck there," Leo said. "It's your choice, Raph."
Raph looked down, his beak wrinkling with distaste. "Yeah, it is."
Donatello fought to keep his composure. "Look, if we ever want to have a prayer of being able to live here, it's going to take a ton of cleanup work. We need help. If you can't come, send Mikey. Or lend me somebody from there. I don't care."
Leo shrugged. "You don't want Mikey there and you know it."
"He's a doofus, not an infant!" Raph yelled. "At least send a message and ask him to get his shell in gear!"
Leo ignored the outburst. "As for anybody else, well, I'll have to ask Lord Kawauso if he minds."
Don's patience was running out. "You do that. In the meantime, I've got more cleaning to do than you can imagine, so if you're not going to help, I'll talk to you later."
Raph looked at his brother in surprise when Don used a pencil to flick the switch on the portal stick to disconnect the gateway. "You okay, bro?"
"No! Of course I'm not okay! This...this is…" Don waved at the putrid lair. "I have to start over and I get the feeling that Leo doesn't even care anymore." He pinned Raph with a glare. "Do you think Leo even wants to come home? Ever?"
Raph opened his mouth to reply but paused. Considered. Finally shook his head. "I'd'a said he did, but now...I'm not sure. You should see him every night walking the castle walls with Honda. He...he really likes it."
Donatello felt his heart constrict. "I know. And so does Mikey." Then he met Raph's eyes, not accusingly, but frankly. "And so do you."
Raph respected his brother too much to look away, so he held Don's gaze. "Of course I do. We get to live in the open instead of underground like moles. I ain't a huge fan of the land that time forgot without TV or anything, but it's worth it to not be a freak."
Don broke eye-contact and sighed. "But I'm a freak either way."
"Yeah, you kinda are." Raph smiled. "But you're our freak. So, while Leo sits on his little silk pillow and pretends to be too good to get his hands dirty, you tell me what we gotta do."
-==OOO==-
Raph stayed in the lair overnight rather than returning to Usagi's world for five full days, working steadily with Donatello to try to salvage what could be saved and restore the place as much as possible. Between the two of them, they were able to get the floor dry after another day, and they started bleaching and scrubbing everything in sight after that.
Donatello was too discouraged to be surprised when Leo eventually said he couldn't spare anyone to help and refused to come himself, even after Raph shouted creative invective at him for ten minutes. Mikey had sent back a message to the effect of, "I'll come if you REALLY REALLY want me to but I would rather risk getting clobbered by Raph than clean."
Raph sent a message back promising Mikey would get his wish.
It wasn't only being on their own that was discouraging, however. The more Raph and Don worked, the more damage they found. On the fourth day they had to tear out the cabinets Raph had built for the kitchen and scrap them. On the fifth, they began ripping plaster and drywall down, as a repulsive brown stain spread up along what had been clean walls and across the ceiling above.
And every few minutes, they found something else that had been irrevocably destroyed. When they found things that were not ruined, like Mikey's plastic-encased comics or Leo's old katana, Raph bundled them up and delivered them through the portal to Usagi's world where they would be safe and away from further contamination.
But there was no denying that this disaster dwarfed every previous loss of their lairs – at least then, it had been one attack or another that decimated their material possessions. At least then, even some things that had been smashed could be salvaged.
At least then, they could breathe the air without needing to gag shudderingly frequently.
On the afternoon of the eighth day after what they had been calling 'the flood,' that discouragement and the inevitable frustration came to a head.
Raph was looking at the parts from his Shell Cycle that they had been able to clean. It was little more than the frame and a few of the engine components. Suddenly he scooped up the frame and chucked it across the lair with a wordless shout.
Don's head poked out of the kitchen nook where he had been trying to figure out if the contamination had gotten into the wall behind the fridge. "Raph?"
"This is so stupid!" Raph shouted. "We shouldn't have to live like this!"
Donatello's stomach went cold. "It probably won't happen again after the fix I put into the sewer pipes overhead and around the lair…"
Raph turned on him, body coiled tight like a fist. "How many times have we saved the city or maybe the whole world? And we have to live here like bugs! And the very best you can say is that we probably won't get buried in sewer waste again?"
Don moved towards him. "This world has its good points, though," Don said, hoping to stave off what he feared was coming – what, if he were honest with himself, he had feared for weeks. "TV, the internet, a Shell Cycle. Electricity, plumbing."
"Plumbing," Raph growled darkly.
"I know it's rough, but we've had it bad before."
Raph looked at him as if he had grown two heads and one was about to vomit on him. "When have we ever had it this rough? When did we ever have to live in a pool of human toilet droppings?"
"But we're cleaning it. It won't be this bad forever. You'll see."
"Even if we could get all the mess out of here, which I'm starting to doubt, it's just a matter of time before we get flooded with river water if it isn't sewer water, or somebody tries to blow a hole in our house because we ticked them off. The entire world is against us here, Donnie. The entire world!"
"What about Casey and April?" Don pointed out. "Or Leatherhead? Or our other friends?"
Raph kicked at what would have been the new Shell Cycle's exhaust pipe, sending it flying across the room after the frame. "I just can't stand it, okay? It stinks here! I hate the sewer and I hate the city!"
"Raph, calm down," Don said, reaching for him entreatingly.
"No! It's stupid to live here! Bike or no bike, I'm goin' back where I don't have to put up with this stuff!" Raph shook off his hands and took several steps back.
Donatello felt his chest constrict. "Going...back?"
"Yeah! Riding a Cycle and watching TV ain't worth having to live like trash underground. I'd rather go live like a prince with Leo."
"Raph, it's really not that bad. I mean, are you sure?"
"Yeah I'm sure! And if you know what's good for you, you'll come, too." Raph crossed his arms across his plastron. "I know you like your tech, Donnie, but you gotta admit this ain't no way to live."
"It's not about my tech, Raph. It's...this is our home! This is our world! We belong here."
"Well, maybe I don't. And sure as shell Leo don't."
"Raph…"
He turned his back. "Power up the portal stick, Don. I'm going back. You can come with me or not, but I ain't staying here in this nasty smell any more than I have to."
Donatello closed his eyes. "Okay. You go clear your head for a while. I'll see about cleaning up the flood. It'll be better when you come back."
"Yeah, whatever."
Don dawdled as much as he could, taking time to wash his hands and his feet and to re-don his pads and mask and fill his belt once more. He hoped that if he gave Raph a few minutes to cool down, he might change his mind.
But when he emerged, he saw that Raph had used that time to pack a bag of his own.
"Look," Raph said, gentling his voice. "You gotta admit it, Donnie. Usagi's world is better for us. We can live like real people. Even if Leo weren't the Heir, we could have a house and everything. How can you want to stay here?" And he looked around at the disaster that was supposed to be their home.
"Because I belong here," Don said, ineffably sad. "And so do you."
"The only place I belong is a place where it don't smell so bad." Raph put an arm around Don's tense shoulders. "Come on. Come with me. At least talk to Leo and Master Splinter about it."
"About what? Moving out? Leaving this world for good?"
"Yeah."
Don hung his head. "I don't think this is the right thing to do."
"Master Splinter will know for sure. Let's go find out."
Donatello activated the portal stick and allowed Raph to pull him through the gateway. As soon as they emerged into the empty room Leo used to hold audiences, Raph strode purposefully towards the door, calling for someone to tell Leo they had arrived.
Don held back and tried not to look at the guard in the hall to find out if the disdain was still as bad as it had been before. He slipped away from Raph and found himself using all his best stealth skills to avoid being seen by unfriendly samurai. Without necessarily meaning to, his feet found their way to the inkhouse.
The guard out front clearly remembered him – and scowled darkly at him, but did not prevent him.
Don tried to ignore the glare aimed at his shell and tapped on the door. "Sensei?"
"Come in."
Donatello entered, surprised that his father's voice was weaker than it had been the last time they spoke. "Master Splinter? Are you okay?"
"Donatello, my son. I have not seen you for many days." Splinter was not sitting up against the cushions now, but rather was lying flat. His eyes seemed dull.
Don crossed the floor to kneel beside his father. "What happened? Is something wrong?"
"Yes. The healers think it is something of a relapse. Perhaps I woke too soon, perhaps I tried to do too much too quickly." He peered at his son. "You are troubled."
"I am so troubled, father. You heard about the lair?"
"Yes. Leonardo informed me."
"Well, it's just...it's so gross and everything is out of control and now Raph wants to give up and just stay here and not work on it at all and...I don't know what to do."
"I can sympathize with Raphael's feelings. You bring with you a strong odor that I would not wish to live in, either."
Donatello blushed deeply with embarrassment.
Splinter's eyes wandered briefly and he sagged with exhaustion. "As with all things, Raphael likely needs time to quiet his feelings before he may address them correctly. Do not let it discourage you, my son."
"But I think he means it this time, Sensei. I think he's serious about not wanting to go back to New York at all!"
"If that were his decision, you must...respect it. He...must follow his heart...as must you."
Donatello was appalled at the weakness he heard in his father's voice. He really must have had a bad relapse. I better let him rest. "Okay, Master Splinter. Thank you for your help."
"I...my son...don't…" But sleep claimed him.
Don rose and bowed before he left the inkhouse, shutting the door softly behind himself. His thoughts were a strange jumble as he headed back to the keep to find Leo.
He met Raph on the way. "I talked to 'im," Raph said. "He wants to make sure you're okay with this."
Don nodded absently. When he made it to Leo's chamber, he was no longer surprised to see his brother seated as the Daimyo had been on that first day, imposing and regal in flowing robes.
But the smile was familiar. "Hey Donnie. I'm sorry about all this."
Don found himself kneeling before his brother – the very room seemed to demand it. "Leo, I'm...I'm not sure about all this. I...I don't like the idea of abandoning our home."
"Then don't," Leo said. "If we were human, we'd be old enough to be thinking about moving out, getting our own places. Going to some amazing college in your case." He smiled at his brother. "Right?"
Don swallowed around a dry throat. "I guess?"
"We're growing up. We need our own space. But that doesn't make us any less family and it doesn't mean we can't see each other all the time. Thanks to your brain, it's easy to get back and forth even if I'm too busy to use the magic."
Don nodded slightly.
"And actually, with Mikey pretty much living in Mitsu's village now, it's easier for you to find me than it is for him. I'm thinking about having Raph go check on him sometimes, or swing through if he wants to go back to patrolling the han for trouble. We'll all be a little far-flung, but it's not worse than us trying to move out like we would if we were human."
Don's heart was fluttering in his chest, engulfed in a cold ache, and a dark anxiety threatened to swallow him.
Leo frowned at the burgeoning panic he could see in his brother's expression. He broke from his proper place and moved to perch on one knee before Donatello.
"We're still Clan, Donnie. All of us. We're just putting some space between us. This is a good thing. We're becoming adults and we're finding our place in the world."
In the wrong world, Don's brain thought rebelliously.
But Leo's words were still even and confident. "Maybe with a little distance, we'll get along better. At least Mikey won't drive us all as crazy and Raph and I won't fight as much. I know it'll be a little lonely for you, but you can come by every day if you want. Or call Leatherhead. You could turn the whole lair into a giant lab like at his place, and nobody would be around to stop you."
Donatello felt a sharp pain in his throat and he had to gulp back a lump. "It's...it's happening so fast. Our family is falling apart, Leo."
"No we aren't," Leo assured him, gripping his shoulder tightly. "We're still family. No matter where we go. And I'm surprised you didn't see this coming."
"I did," Don admitted bitterly. "I just didn't want it to be true."
"It won't be that bad. Really. You'll get used to it. You might even like it. Imagine me not nagging you every morning to get up early. You can live with the schedule you like best. Imagine Mikey not breaking everything you make. Imagine Raph not stomping around in one of his moods."
Imagine waking up alone every morning. Imagine having to scavenge alone without anyone to watch my back. Imagine only being able to visit when I feel like dealing with a world full of contempt. But he didn't dare say what he was thinking out loud. Leo's eyes were so entreating, so earnest, so hopeful.
He wants this. He wants to stay. And I'm the only reason he can't. If I give in, if we live in separate places, he can have what he wants.
This might be the only thing he's truly wanted for himself ever since he became our leader.
And Mikey can, too. Mikey will be able to stay with Mitsu.
Master Splinter will be able to live with better food and proper healers who can care for him.
Raph will...whatever Raph does, I guess. He might even come back in his own time. He's the only other one tempted by machines and technology.
Donatello took in a deep, shaky breath. "Life at best is bittersweet," he said, his voice not quite steady and it wasn't just from remembering the last words of one of his few human friends who was long gone.
"I know it's hard to accept change," Leo said gently, "but maybe this is for the best. For all of us. I think maybe this was always going to happen, that it was inevitable someday we'd separate. At least now we can do it comfortably."
Donatello couldn't bring himself to lie and agree, so he just closed his eyes and ducked his head. "It's hard for me to accept. I...don't want to be alone."
Leo moved his hand from Don's shoulder so he could pull him into a hug. "I know. But you won't be. I'll be a portal stick away, no farther than if you were in your lab and I was in the dojo. Once you get used to it, I think you'll see that this is the right move for all of us."
No. It isn't. It can't be.
But Don curled into the hug. "Okay. I'll...I'll try."
"I have faith in you. You're very strong. I'm sure you'll see I'm right in the end."
Donatello had no way to answer that, so he just accepted the hug and tried to imprint it on his mind. All too soon, Leo drew back.
"So, do you want to stay for dinner before you head back?"
Don could only shake his head. "No. But thanks. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, I think I need to work to clear my head."
Leo nodded. "Okay. But think about coming for a meal tomorrow. Please? I want to make sure you're really all right with this."
I'm not. I couldn't ever be all right with this. But he only let out a shaky breath and said, "Okay."
Within minutes that passed too fast, Don was back in the lair.
Alone.
He gazed around the ruins that should have been a home. Walls were torn out, the ceiling was a mess, the smell still lingered in the air, and there were an endless list of things that needed to be cleaned or purged and replaced. It was as if a monster had come, spreading its slime and disease and spoiling everything that should have been.
Shattering the future they should have had.
It shouldn't have happened this way, Don thought, his mind almost numb and his heart stuttering with the sudden isolation of it. The sudden desertion.
But it had. And all he could do now was go forward.
Don lifted his head. "They are never coming back."
The words echoed soullessly in the tainted lair.
"They are never coming back. But I'm not alone. I can still go see them. We're still family. We're still Clan."
And maybe, with some time, I'll find a way to believe that.
-==OOO==-
End of Act 2
-==OOO==-