Previously...

His cries were coming out in high pitched whines hissed out with his breath through his bared teeth, his tears clouding his vision as he lifted his fists and began pounding the cardboard in fury. When that wasn't enough he stood unsteadily and began stomping on it, not stopping as long as he could still feel shapes beneath his feet, wouldn't be satisfied until he had destroyed them completely. He wanted them gone, he wanted them to have never existed but he would settle for erasing every trace of them that he could right now.

A sound reached him through his sobbing, his name, being yelled by his father and echoed by his brothers. He jumped back fearfully, covering his mouth with a hand before pulling it away quickly at the foul smell. They might have heard him, they sounded far away but they were headed this way.

They're going to find me here. They're going to see what I did. Donatello thought, full of dread.

Donatello yanked the nearby boxes and plastic that was laying around and covered the corner where the evidence lay. Then he turned and stumbled out of the narrow tunnel, half running on his quivering legs as quickly as he could go, ignoring the aches as he headed in the opposite direction, trying to lead them as far away from that place as possible.

His body was having none of it, though, betraying him yet again as his vision blurred and swam. He gulped down air that didn't seem to be making it into his lungs and stopped for a moment to try get a hold of himself but couldn't go on any longer, sinking to the ground slowly against the curved wall of the pipe he was in.

He hadn't gone far enough. I can't let them find it. He thought as he crawled a bit further but flinched away from the beam of light and huddled into the wall when it shone on him.

"There! He's over there!" Michelangelo's voice echoed through the sewers in a way he wasn't sure of the direction he was coming from.

He heard the pounding of footsteps and warm hands followed soon after, stroking his cold, damp skin, lifting and turning his face as they asked him questions that rung in his ears and his spinning head. He only managed to shake his head before those warm hands were lifting him and turning him until he was draped over a curved carapace. His arms were held firmly over warm shoulders until the hands drifted down to the backs of this thighs.

Donatello whined pitifully in his haze before he could stop himself at the sharp pain as his legs were spread to fit around the back of his brother, now carrying his weight, yelping when he was jerked up with a little jump so he wouldn't slide off him. He kept his jaw firmly shut as they began walking home. A warm hand fell on the top of his knee and then drew back suddenly only to be replaced by the soothing feeling of slow circles being rubbed into his carapace which he focused on and drifted, trying to ignore his discomfort with each jarring step.

Light streamed in through the grates they passed and he realised he must have spent the whole night missing, it was already morning. When his arms stopped feeling numb he wrapped them around his brother, carrying him on his back, trying to jostle him as little as possible. Don was high enough on him that he could turn his face into his brother's neck, burying his nose in the warmth and the familiar scent.

Raph.

His brother made no sound as Don's wet snout was pressed against him. Didn't complain or comment as Don wept silently on him, allowing the water to leak from his eyes and nose without a sound. His steps didn't falter when Don's breath hitched, his grip on his brother remained strong and steady until they were safe at home.

Master Splinter had Raph carry Don into the bathroom even though by then he could walk on shaky legs and then dismissed them as he helped Don clean up, going over the scrapes and bruises on his elbows and knees after gently scrubbing off the grime under the warm water in the shower, not caring that his fur and robes were getting soaked.

"I can… do it myself." Donatello insisted again but his father wouldn't allow him to hide and take care of his wounds alone.

He wanted to tend to Donatello himself and went over every scratch with antiseptic until he paused, his hands falling gently on his son's shoulders. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" He asked quietly, watching Donatello carefully with worried eyes.

Donatello couldn't hold his gaze and relaxed his legs when he noticed he had pressed them tightly closed at the question. "No." He answered after a couple seconds, forcing himself to look back into his father's eyes.

"Are you sure?" Splinter inquired again lifting a hand to cradle warm olive green cheek.

"Yes." Donatello answered a little more firmly.

Master Splinter sighed, not looking relieved at all and knelt in front of his son who sat on the lip of the toilet wrapped in his large purple bath towel. "What happened, my son?"

Donatello let out a shaky breath as he gathered his thoughts. A simple lie would be best, easy to remember and as close to the truth as possible. "We went out when we weren't supposed to." He began, stalling a little, knowing this part he already knew. "I wanted to go to the big Northwest collector tunnel to see if anything good had washed up with the rain but Mikey got bored." He bit his lip, wondering how much trouble he was in already with just the introduction to his story.

Master Splinter motioned him to continue. "We started playing follow the leader but I wasn't feeling too well."

"Your stomach?" Master Splinter asked.

"Y-yes." Donatello nodded as he remembered the nausea he had been experiencing in the past weeks. "And I fell behind. I lost them and tried to catch up but I got turned around. I was disoriented…"

"What happened next?" His father asked with a soft voice.

Donatello's gaze shifted to the side and then to the floor. There was nothing really he could come up with that could account for everything but he had nothing else he could say. "I fell." He said simply.

Master Splinter waited for him to continue but when nothing else was said he drew his son's gaze back to him with a finger on Donatello's chin. "Where did you fall?"

"I-I'm not sure." Donatello faltered. "I was disoriented, I didn't know where I was."

"What happened after you fell?" Master Splinter insisted.

"N-nothing. I just fell." Dontallo kept his gaze on his father's though every cell in his brain was telling him to look away before he saw the lie in his eyes.

"Is that how you got these scrapes?" Master Splinter asked, his fingers ghosting over the inflamed welts on his knees.

"Yes." He answered.

Master Splinter sighed and sat back on his heels. "You were missing the whole night, Donatello. Gone for hours. We couldn't find you even though I retraced your steps with your brothers."

"I didn't realise so much time had passed. I… wasn't feeling well. I might have wandered in the wrong direction. I think I threw up at some point."

"Do you know how we found you, Donatello?" Master Splinter interrupted, waiting for Donnie to shake his head. "We heard…" He paused and swallowed. "...a terrible noise."

Don's eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his face, his gaze had drifted down to his knees. They had heard him.

"It was a terrible scream, my son." Master Splinter's voice broke. "I thought you were…" His voice trailed off.

"I'm sorry." Donatello whispered.

"We didn't know where you were, tried to head in the direction we thought we heard you in but it still took us a while to find you." Master Splinter paused a moment to breathe, steadying himself as they remained in silence.

"I didn't meant to frighten you, I'm not sure what happened I… was feeling sick and dizzy and couldn't find my way home…"

"Was there anyone else there with you?" Master Splinter asked firmly. "Did anyone harm you?"

"No." Donatello answered in a bit of a daze, the direction of the questioning throwing him off. "No." He said more loudly when Master Splinter kept searching his gaze.

They sat in silence for a minute, Master Splinter's grip had slipped to Don's arms where he held him tightly, not allowing him to escape. "Are you certain?"

"I fell." Donatello stated clearly and then held his tongue, allowing the silence to continue until Master Splinter released his grip and stayed quiet while his father applied plasters and bandages to some of the more serious abrasions on the top of his feet.

He rose as soon as they were finished, still a little wobbly but ducked away from Master Splinter when he reached out to steady him. He made a conscious effort not to limp or walk funny but knew he was moving very slowly and stiffly as he made his way out to the lair. He wanted nothing more than to burrow into his covers and sleep for a week but it was morning and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now.

When he reached his brothers he noticed his bed roll had been laid out for him along with the others and he sighed in relief. He shuffled his way over to it as they flanked him without saying a word.

They'd set up the bedding so the edges touched where there would normally be enough space to walk around and his bedroll was in the middle instead of on the end. Don knelt as soon as he reached the foot of the bed, ignoring the way Raph's hands had shot out to catch him only to fall back to his sides a moment later.

"I'm okay." He whispered as he crawled on his hands and knees and pulled back the covers.

The scrapes should have been bothering him but all he could feel was the deep, throbbing pain that emanated from his core. He gingerly crept underneath them settling for lying on his carapace even if he usually found it more comfortable to sleep plastron down to not put pressure on his belly, inflamed tail resting limply against the bedding and his legs slightly parted so nothing touched.

His brothers got in bed and his father dimmed the lights, leaving on a lamp in the corner where he sat to meditate. Mikey was laying on his side, facing him right on the edge of his bedding. He snaked an arm under their covers and brushed Don's arm with his fingers. When he didn't respond he slid it over chest and left it there, a comfortable weight Donatello covered with his own hand.

Taking it as an invitation Mikey scooted forward into Don's bed, as close as he could get without aggravating his wounds and pressing his chin against Don's shoulder. When the weight on his chest increased he opened an eye to find a leaf green arm on Mikey's, Leonardo curled around his smaller brother's carapace. After a moment Raphael just threw back his own covers, got up on his knees and got into Don's bed on his other side, pressing himself against Don.

They'd probably have questions for him tomorrow. His own father had believed… he'd thought he'd been assaulted, possibly raped. He wasn't sure what Master Splinter had noticed but he'd made sure he answered those questions as firmly as possible, although... He grit his teeth and tensed as he felt his body begin to shake at the thought. His brother's shifting closer to him in response and Mikey nuzzling his shoulder.

In a way, he had been raped. It was what he felt like. He'd been violated by his own body and in a year it would happen all over again. The weight of that truth settled over him and made breathing difficult. When he noticed what he was doing he made a conscious effort to breathe silently through his mouth before he alerted the others. He had to accept that he wouldn't be able to stop this, it was a law of nature as inexorable and inescapable as gravity.