Chapter Seven

He's making me wait. I suppose it is to be expected. He didn't twitch so much as a whisker when he saw the four of us pass through the turnstile. He was standing still as a statue with a hand resting on the back of the couch. One of my brothers must have alerted him to our imminent return. He glided over and stood before me. It felt like an eternity before he spoke and once he did his words aren't angry or glad or anything really. His voice is flat and devoid of any discernible emotion.

"The dojo," he says before turning and gliding off down the hallway.

"Dude," Michelangelo breathes beside me. "You're dead, man," he whispers and he sounds like he believes it.

After an hour ticks by and I'm still kneeling alone in the dojo I start to believe it too.

Maybe he's seeing how long you can last and then when you try to leave he'll pounce.

I glance over my shoulder and then up into the branches of the tree, thinking he might be hiding in the shadows. Even if he is hiding I doubt I will be able to find him. After fifteen more minutes my knees start to ache and I shift uncomfortably from one to the other before settling back and accepting the discomfort. I drum my fingers on the tops of my thighs and start to hum a song I can't quite remember the name of, trailing off with an annoyed sigh when the ache in my knee travels up to my hip. What could he possibly gain from making me wait here?

He's trying to force you to meditate.

I crinkle my nose and stretch out my legs in front of me. I lean back on my hands and move my feet back and forth. He can make me wait all he wants, but he can't force me to meditate. As a half an hour comes and goes I start to get antsy. I curl my fingers against the mat beneath them and drill my heels into the ground.

There has to be some paper and something to write with in here. If he's going to make you sit around you might as well do something.

I crane my neck and look around the dojo. My search comes up with nothing and I let out a sigh of frustration. I lay back and stare up at the ceiling, squinting into the light that filters through the branches. I wish he would get it over with. I know he's trying to teach me some sort of lesson here. He's always trying to teach us a lesson, but I'm entirely not in the mood for it. My thoughts start to turn towards frustration and I quickly force them back to more pleasant things or more accurately a more pleasant someone. A tiny smile crosses my face and I let my eyes drift shut as I start to hum again.

"Oh, I am sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Master Splinter's voice is like a bucket of cold water…full of angry bees…and barbed wire. I flail and struggle to kneel once more. He stands and waits. There are no annoyed nose twitches or swishes of his tail, he just stands and waits and it fills me with dread. I settle on my knees and stare down at the mat, afraid to look him in the eye. I tense, thinking he might put a hand on my shoulder. He doesn't. He doesn't do anything but stand and stare me down.

You're going to crack. You're an easy mark and he knows it.

"Sensei…"

"Did I say you could speak?" he asks in that same emotionless tone that turns my blood to ice water.

I shake my head no and continue my examination of the mat beneath my knees. I don't know how long we stay like that. I try to count the seconds to no avail and soon my knees are aching again and the pang travels up to my hip and lower back. Master Splinter reaches down and tilts my chin up. I wince when his hand brushes the fresh bruise across my jaw. He lets go and kneels down beside me. He stares straight ahead and I don't know what to do.

Don't move. Probably shouldn't breathe either.

"Were you in a fight?" he asks.

I shake my head no, too afraid to elaborate with words.

Just sit quietly. He'll say what he has to say and then you can slink off and hide.

"What happened to your face?" he demands.

"Michelangelo," I croak around a pained swallow.

"Hmm," is his only response and the crushing silence falls once more.

I start to squirm after another hour crawls by. The pain in my joints is an afterthought to the swell of anxiety that threatens to crush my chest from the inside out. I mentally catalog every possible horrible thing that could be going through Sensei's head. Soon my hands will start to tremble and I ball them into fists to keep that from happening. Don't think about the pain. Don't think about how disappointed in you he is. Think of something nice. Think of something positive. Think of April.

Why won't he say something?!

"Be still," he says, resting a hand briefly atop my own.

Before I can stop myself I let out an annoyed sigh. My eyes shoot open wide and I mentally scold myself for my stupidity. Master Splinter rests his hands in his lap and takes in a slow breath through his nose.

What is wrong with you?

"Have you apologized to your brothers?" he asks with another slow exhale.

"Hai Sensei," I reply immediately. I dip to one side and wince when the added weight falls on my right knee.

"Be still," he says again and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from letting out a frustrated sigh.

He lets another long bout of silence pass and the ache in my lower back has upgraded to pain, good and proper. I'm going to move again. It's only a matter of seconds before it becomes a necessity. My muscles cramp and the pain in my knees feels as though someone is trying to pull the joints out through the skin. Master Splinter lets out a slow and forceful breath and I use the moment to shift, hoping he is too preoccupied with his breathing to notice.

Sensei notices everything.

"Be still," he says for the third time.

My anxiety turns into an ugly sort of anger at the sound of the command. I scrunch my face into a scowl and wince when the movement stretches the bruise across my jaw. I let out a short breath and it whistles through the gap in my teeth. Master Splinter opens one eye but otherwise remains stoic. I shift once more and cringe at the pain in my hips. I don't care if he rebukes me again. I have to move.

"Tell me, my son," he says, both eyes open now and settled on my face. "Why do you think you are incapable of stillness?"

The question cuts and I take in a breath that waivers around the edges.

Why can't you be more like Leonardo? That is what he meant to ask.

"I…I have things to do," I say, which is obviously not the answer he was searching for because his nose twitches.

"And did you have 'things to do,' last night?"

I wince at the question and only answer with a quick shake of my head. I fear what I might say if I open my mouth. His chest rises and falls and he lowers his head to one side.

"I had asked one thing of you, Donatello. To rest. To be still. What was so important that you felt the need to sneak away in the night without a word to anyone?"

Raphael knew. I told Raphael.

I cannot throw my brother under the bus, not after he kept my secret. I swallow and try to find a plausible lie amongst my manic thoughts. Nothing comes and I shift on my knees with a wince and grimace.

"I…I'm sorry, Sensei," I say quietly when nothing else is able to pass my lips.

"I did not ask for an apology," he replies and my spirit breaks just a little bit more.

"I…I had to…I had to not be here," I murmur.

It isn't a lie and the weight of my voice alone attests to the truth behind my shame.

"I couldn't…I couldn't be here," I say and my voice breaks.

Are you going to cry? Pathetic.

I take in a deep breath and hope it settles my nerves and the embarrassing tremble to my voice. "I couldn't…I couldn't stay here."

I regret saying it. It didn't need to be said. I could have gone on as I always do and bury it deep down until the next time it could no longer be kept hidden away. He doesn't move. His chest rises and falls but he stays still. I am that child again, waking from a bad dream and wishing my father would comfort me and tell me everything is all right and knowing he won't.

You're not a child. He shouldn't have to comfort you. Grow up.

"I'm sorry," I say again. This time the apology is more like a plea and I hate myself for it. "There is no excuse. I should have done as I was told."

I hope it is what he wants to hear. That he'll nod and let me flee. I don't usually get what I hope for.

"Where did you go?"

I blink and my shame is washed away in a tsunami of embarrassment. My face burns and I avoid his eyes at all cost as though one look might turn me to stone. He is not in the mood for waiting.

"Donatello?"

"I was at April's," I reply so quickly the words blend together in one monstrosity of a single breath.

"I see," he says and I cringe at the implications in those two words. "And were you invited?"

He thinks you're a stalker. He can't even consider that she wanted you there.

"She asked me to come over," I say, probably harsher than was reasonable or necessary. "She needed help with her calculus homework."

"For the entire night?"

Further excuses die on my lips and I'm certain my face is as deep a purple as my mask. There is a nose twitch and Master Splinter shifts on his knees.

"And Mr. O'Neil, he was…aware of your staying the night?" he asks and I'm shocked to find that he almost sounds as uncomfortable as I feel.

"No," I reply before I have the common sense to lie. "He…he wasn't home." I add in a rush of cracked words. "I slept on the floor."

If the ground opened up and swallowed me in this moment to save me further embarrassment I would never again doubt the existence of a god. As it is I remain stuck kneeling on joints that still scream in pain under the unwavering eye of Master Splinter. He seems at a loss for words and I doubt I could hear them anyway over the loud thud of my own heart in my ears.

"It…it is unacceptable for you to spend the night," he says, clearing his throat.

"Hai, Sensei," I reply with a curt nod.

"Especially without Kirby knowing."

"Hai, Sensei."

"You have his permission to consider and April's honor."

"Hai, Sensei," I say.

Is it possible to die of embarrassment?

"You have many things to consider," he says as he rises to his feet and begins to pace in front of me. "When a young lady…"

Oh, no. No, this cannot happen. This will not happen.

"Hai, Sensei, I understand," I say quickly, hoping to stop him before he says anything else that will only embarrass us both. "It won't happen again. It is unacceptable, I understand. It won't happen again."

He looks as though he might be considering his line of thought, but thankfully nods instead. "Good," he says. He pauses to rest a hand on my shoulder. "I am glad you are safe, my son," he says with a squeeze of his hand. "Do not think you cannot come to me for guidance in the future."

"Yes, father," I say, letting out the nervous breath I'm holding.

I wait until I'm certain he has left the dojo before I roll to my side and slowly stretch out my legs. It's not a flattering movement and I'm glad no one is around to witness it. My joints wail in protest and I take my staff from its holster to help me to my feet. I hobble around the dojo until the blood returns to my feet and the pain in my back and legs dulls to an ache. I would not want to witness Sensei interrogate someone for real.

"Hey, Donnie?"

I look over and see Mikey linger at the door to the dojo.

"Yeah, Mikey?" I say, hobbling over towards him. Each step is easier than the one before and by the time I reach my brother I'm almost walking normally.

"Just making sure Sensei didn't kill ya," he says with a quiet laugh that dies when his eyes land on the bruise on my face. "Man, I'm sorry about that," he says with a little wince and wave of his hand. "Don't know what came over me."

He shouldn't feel bad. You deserved it.

I smile and it's not forced or insincere and I am happy it lightens the regret in his eyes. "Don't worry about it, Mikey. It doesn't even hurt."

He laughs and this time it doesn't die out. "Sure looks like it hurts."

"Well, looks can be deceiving," I insist, twirling my staff before setting it to rest among the other weapons lining the wall.

My T-Phone buzzes against my shell where it's tucked into my belt.

"Is it April?" Mikey asks with a grin and a sing-song voice.

"Maybe," I reply, dancing out of his reach when he tries to snag the phone.

I push him back with my shell and scroll my thumb over the screen to read the message.

Let me know you're ok.

I can't help but grin and it only spurs on Michelangelo's desire to eavesdrop. Luckily I am a champion at multi-tasking. I hold the phone out of his reach and type back a message with my thumb while keeping him away with the other.

Everything is all right.

The phone buzzes almost immediately after I send the text and my smile grows.

Good. I'll stop by the lair tomorrow. :0)

"What did she say?" Mikey demands.

He practically crawls over my shoulder and pouts when I turn the phone off and slide it back into my belt. "Never mind," I say, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Come on, let's go watch T.V."

"Yeah, yeah, you're just trying to distract me from the good stuff," he says but doesn't push the subject. "I think there's a monster movie marathon on."

I follow him out into the living room and plop down onto the couch while he clicks through the channels in search of something to watch. He prattles on about which movie monster would win in a fight and I offer a suggestion here and there. I settle back on the couch when the T.V. blares to life with the black and white wolf-man howling at the moon. I don't know it but the gray skies above have opened up and are drowning the city in a steady, cold rain; the perfect day to stay inside and watch movies. It feels good to sit and do nothing. It feels normal and I don't for a second take it for granted.