Author's Notes: Holy cow, I seriously can't believe I'm at chapter 20 already. More angst ahead this chapter. I promise something less so the next time around. I think Donnie deserves some much needed happiness and snuggles :0)

Thanks again to anyone who took the time to comment or like or follow or even just read. I'm still shocked by the support this fic has gotten. It's unbelievably nice to know that there are at least a handful of people who enjoy reading my work.


Chapter Twenty

Click. Click. Click. I hate typing one handed. It's slow and awkward and I can't move as fast as my thoughts. To be honest I can rarely move as fast as my thoughts but this just puts a point to it. I should be grateful to be typing at all. It took some convincing to get Michelangelo to snag my laptop from the lab and I'm not going to waste a minute of it. Who knows when one of my other brothers or Master Splinter will come in and make me lie down again. I don't want to lie down. I've been lying down for days. Click. Click. Click.

"This…this doesn't make sense," I murmur, leaning in close to the screen as if it'll provide a better look at the numbers in front of me.

Mikey hovers over my shoulder to get his own look at the screen. "You're right about that," he says, with a knowing nod and it makes the corners of my mouth twitch into a tiny smile.

"That's not…okay, see this here," I explain, pointing at the row of numbers furthest to the left of the screen. "These are the energy output numbers for the company's fourth quarter," I trace my finger down the screen, showing him how the numbers increase tenfold over the course of a couple months. "Why is a company that sells drywall and construction material measuring energy output?"

"Maybe they're selling energy now," he suggests with a dismissive shrug that signals his instant loss of interest.

"Or maybe they need the energy to manufacture something else," I say quietly.

Yeah, like burrowing, cyborg-tadpoles.

My arm gives a slight twinge and I'm not fast enough to hide the discomfort. Mikey saw and his face already twists in concern. He doesn't say anything so I keep typing. Never taking my eyes off the screen I try to find a more comfortable position for my right hand. At the moment it's propped up on a tower of pillows to make a ninety degree angle with my elbow. The thick, white bandages are wrapped tightly halfway up my forearm, hiding the gruesome injury from sight. I only caught a quick glimpse of it myself the day before when Leonardo changed the bandages. It was open and raw with pieces of scaly black skin flaking off at the slightest touch. The pain made me pass out before I could form a proper opinion on the carnage. The next time someone changes the dressings I'm prepared to study it fully.

"Breakfast," Raph barks, kicking the door open with his foot and balancing a tray of food in his arms.

My stomach growls instantly at the smell of food. It could be one of Mikey's failed experiments and I would still eat it without complaint. This is the first time in recent memory that the mere thought of eating hasn't set my stomach rolling and I won't pass up the opportunity. I snag a piece of toast before he even sets the tray down, shoving it into my mouth to free up my hand to continue typing.

"How about you take a break," Raphael says, not really making it a suggestion. "Where'd you get that computer anyway?" he asks with an accusing glare in Mikey's direction.

He reaches out to close the laptop. I anticipate the move and hold it open. He's going to argue, I can see the squint to his eyes so I ready for a fight. Those same eyes hover over the image on the screen and the argument is gone. He leans forward and points to the upper corner.

"Hey…that's the boss lady," he says, pointing again at the banner across the top of the page featuring the photographs of the owners. "Leo and I saw her at the warehouse."

I snag a piece of bacon from the plate when I'm sure he won't slam the laptop shut. "That's Amelia Zhao," I say around the mouthful of food. "Her grandfather started the company in the forties."

"That's great, Donnie, thanks for the history lesson. What are they up to now?"

If he's being nasty he must think you're doing better.

"Well, they've increased their energy output in the last quarter," Michelangelo pipes up, matter-of fact.

He's leaning against the headboard, munching on a piece of bacon and looking rather pleased with himself. I didn't even see him move towards the plate; impressive. Raphael punches him in shoulder, resulting in a pained squeak.

"Don't eat that," he says, threatening another punch when Mikey laughs in reply. "I'm serious. If you want something to eat get your own damn food."

"Why would I do that when you've brought breakfast in bed?" Mikey replies with a grin.

He leans over my legs in a half-hearted attempt to snag some more food. Raph takes a swing and misses as Mikey rolls down to the end of the bed with another laugh. The jostling on the mattress shakes the tray of food, the rounded corner of the wood making contact with my hand. I see stars and a strangled cry tears from my throat. My instinct is to curl my hand into a fist or clutch the injured appendage to my chest, either will only cause more pain so I settle for gripping the blankets with my left hand and pinching my eyes shut until the worst of it subsides.

Don't pass out. It barely touched you.

"Donnie, oh, man, I'm sorry. Are you all right? Dammit, Mikey, look what you did!"

Raph continues to yell at our little brother and I struggle to regain my composure enough to defend him.

"S'fine, Raph," I insist, taking in a slow breath. "No one's fault…accident. I'm fine."

I feel the weight of the laptop lift from my thighs followed by fretting hands and tucked in blankets. He continues to grumble and lay blame, but has thankfully lowered the volume of his voice. The short burst of anger was enough to draw attention and I blink back tears to glance over at the door as it squeaks open. I'm more than a little relieved that it's Leonardo and not Master Splinter.

"What is going on in here?" he asks, leveling his best disappointed look on my brothers.

The look has the desired affect and both stare elsewhere with obvious guilt on their faces.

"Just…eating breakfast," I reply with a smile that shakes at the edges.

I reach for another piece of toast and make a show of eating. His facial expression softens and a tiny sigh escapes his lips.

"You two need to keep it down," he says, still not entirely done being disappointed. "Master Splinter is meditating and Donnie needs to rest."

"I'm plenty rested," I grumble, taking another big bite of food.

My hunger returns with the fading of the bright pain and I start to make quick work of the offered breakfast, shoveling the food into my mouth with a speed that might even rival Mikey.

"Uh huh," Leo replies, none-too convincingly. "We have morning training," he says to my other brothers, earning a groan from both in unison. "Go warm up. I'll be there in a few minutes."

There is some general grumbling, but neither bothers to argue the point or disobey the order. Raph rubs my head on his way to the door, letting out a tiny laugh when I swat his hand away; annoyed. Mikey offers a smile and something even better.

"I'll make ya whatever you want for lunch, okay?" he says. "You name it."

"Miso Ramen," I say almost immediately and he grins.

"You got it," he says, swatting Raphael's hands away as he pushes him through the door.

"Come on," he grumbles and they continue arguing the length of the hallway and probably all the way to the dojo.

"Glad to see you have your appetite back," Leo says, taking away the empty tray and setting it on the bedside table.

"Yeah," I say with a nod and one last swallow.

It's an odd sensation to have a full stomach when it has been empty for days and I wonder if I should have taken my time eating instead of wolfing down the food without tasting it. Leo's hands are on my shoulders and he pushes my forward slightly to take out the pillow propping me up. He sets it flat on the bed and tries to ease me down onto it. I lean forward in resistance.

"Lie back," he instructs, not giving up. "We need to stretch your legs. You've been in bed for too long."

He's not wrong there.

I still can't move without help and that hard truth leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. My arms and legs feel as though someone tied weights to my joints and the change in position sends my head spinning. I want to sleep. Exhaustion pushes down on me with just as much unrelenting cruelty as the pain in my hand. The fullness in my stomach isn't helping matters; only making me groggy and lethargic.

"I'm going to start with your ankles," Leo says.

He takes hold of my toes with one hand and my heel with the other, moving and stretching the joint until some of the stiffness subsides. He does the same to the other side before moving on to my knees. My hamstrings whine in protest when the stretch moves up my leg and it's an odd sensation to have pain emanate from somewhere besides my hand. The slow, deliberate pull on my stiff and weak muscles only spurs on my exhaustion and I fight to keep my eyes open.

"Leo?" I say quietly, doubt and anxiety overrun by curiosity so close to the precipice of sleep where my logical mind has very little sway over my actions. "Where's Master Splinter?"

His hands pause just above my knee before returning to their work on the joint. "He's meditating."

Of course he is. What else would he be doing?

I let out a bitter snort of a laugh and the tiny scowl on my brother's face is enough to let me know he doesn't appreciate it. I don't care. He can scowl all he wants. I feel anger start to burn to life in my chest, encouraged by the heavy weight of exhaustion and pain that pushes down on my thoughts. My muscles tense and Leo must feel it because he lifts his hands and takes a step back.

"Donnie…"

"I'm really tired, Leo," I say, letting the inference that I want him to leave hang heavy in the air between us.

He sighs and lets his hand rest on my shoulder. I won't look him in the eye, afraid of what I might say if I risk it.

"All right, Donnie," he replies, sounding nothing but defeated. "After lunch I'll change your bandages."

I nod, keeping my jaw clenched and my growing anger locked inside. His hand lifts away and I listen to his shuffled footfalls cross the room towards the door.

"Sensei."

Leo's quiet greeting makes me forget the brunt of my exhaustion and my eyes widen.

"Your brothers are waiting for you in the dojo," Master Splinter says and I can practically hear Leo bow obediently in reply before hurrying down the hallway to start the training session.

Master Splinter's tail swishes quietly across the floor as he closes the distance to my bed and then he's standing beside me. I don't make eye contact. I won't. The last few days are a painful blur, but through all of those fuzzy memories none of them include him. I clench my jaw against another burning rise of anger, my teeth starting to ache from the force of it. He lays out several surgical towels atop the bedspread and positions a metal box full of supplies beside it.

"I need to change your bandages," he explains without so much as a greeting. "It will hurt. I could give you something for the pain before I begin."

It is the worst thing he could say and the burning anger flashes into a blast furnace. "Oh, so you're asking now?" I sneer and the words are hateful and ugly and even with my anger they bring shame to the forefront.

His ears flatten back against his head and I can't decipher if he's angry or shocked at my audacity. The burning in my chest has turned into a white-hot vice around my heart and tears prick and sting at the back of my eyes.

"You…you obviously know best. Why bother asking?" I add and the tears are flowing freely and I'm ashamed. Ashamed of my actions, ashamed of my words and ashamed of the obvious lack of faith my father has in me. "You don't…you don't care what I…what I think. You don't care…"

Nothing you value is important. He thinks there's something wrong with you. Maybe he's right.

He takes hold of my shoulders and lifts me from the bed as though I weigh no more than a feather. He tries to pull me towards him and I push back with my left hand. Undeterred he holds firm and soon his arms are wrapped around me. I grip the front of his robe and bury my face into the fabric. He holds steady, one arm wrapped around my shell and the other cradling my head as I sob and tremble like a child.

"You…you were very…the wound was grave," he says and there's a struggle to each word. "I knew what had to be done and you could not be awake for it," his grip tightens and I can hear a slight catch in his chest. "I knew you would argue with me. You are stubborn when you think you are right…much like your father."

"Y-you…you could have said so," I say between sobs. "You could have…you sh-should have told me…I need to…to know what's…g-going to happen," I press my face into the folds of his robe and murmur against the fabric. "I'm…I was…scared."

Pathetic.

There's a painfully long pause before he responds and it's enough time for me to imagine more than one horrible thing he could say. Instead his breath catches again and he rests his chin atop my head. I don't pull away. I don't look up. I can't. I stay cowering against him, wanting nothing more than to take back every last word I just said.

"As was I, my son," he says and his words crumble any of my remaining strength and anger. "I should have been clearer with my intentions, but I was afraid and acted on impulse. I am sorry."

I cannot remember a time when my father apologized to me, to any of us. His word is law. He is the infallible Sensei. He does not make mistakes and therefore has nothing to apologize for. I don't know how to respond to something so alien and so I say nothing.

"And I do care what you think, Donatello," he adds with a small sigh. "We might not always agree, but I value your opinion and your intellect. We all do."

He lifts his chin and moves his hands to the tops of my arms, gently pushing back to pry me away from where I'm trying to hide amongst the robe. He brushes away some of my tears with the back of his hand and I feel shame start to squirm in my stomach, trying to push aside my breakfast to make room. He hands me a spare piece of linen bandage and I wipe feverishly at any remaining tears before blowing my nose.

"Will you please take something for the pain?" he says quietly. "There is no need for you to suffer."

I nod and try desperately to fight back another round of sobs I feel building in my chest. He lets go only long enough to prepare the syringe and I sway dangerously without the added support. The needle enters my arm and I grimace. I need to lie down. My vision is falling to a pinpoint and the dull ache in my head has grown to a thundering agony. Master Splinter eases me back onto my bed and the pain from moving my hand barely registers.

"Be still, my son," he says and his words sound so very far away.