Oh look, I'm updating. Months later. Seriously, I'm sorry this took so long, but lots of stuff has been going on and I had trouble writing. Thank you for all the favorites and follows I've continued to gain despite my absence, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! This will actually be the last you see of little Donnie, outside of memories, that is. Next chapter should be updated quickly, as it's mostly snippets of things I couldn't (read: was too lazy to) turn into full chapters, crammed into the form of a story. After that, we're getting to our boys as preteens and up, and then we'll be getting to the fun parts. So, again, sorry for the extended break, and hopefully this makes up for it!
Soon after departure, Splinter began to regret his decision to bring the turtles. No, he didn't regret it, not really: he had no other choice. It wasn't as if he could call a babysitter for an hour while he went to search. He had no choice, and that was the part he regretted.
It had been a few hours at this point, hours of searching for the fourth little turtle. Raph and Mikey had grown restless much earlier, but he didn't trust them to not run off if he weren't holding onto them—he had left them with Leo for a few minutes to check the area where the accident had happened. A desperate search later, he returned with the knowledge that either the turtle had escaped to the sewers or was going through unspeakable torture to see Leo trying to drag his more violent brother away from the smallest. The two, angry and exhausted despite having been carried, had settled themselves to hitting each other and pulling at Splinter's fur, an activity he found irritating, at best.
With the surface a failed try, he wanted to go home, or back to the place he had adopted as a home. He would've, but Mikey looked up and babbled something about 'A-tello' with wide eyes, and he knew he had to at least try. Splinter didn't know what was going through their young minds, if they knew how important Donatello should be to them or if they simply wanted to play what must've seemed like Hide and Seek. He didn't know if they truly missed their brother or if they only noticed the gap without him there. Whatever the cause for their concern, he knew that eventually, he had to find the other turtle.
Leo, at least, was quiet, studying every part of the sewer as though his brother could be hiding in a brick or behind a piece of litter. At times, he would run ahead to look around corners and duck into tunnels, but he never left Splinter's sight. To him, it was an adventure, going to find his brother. However, as the trip continued, he grew tired and as irritable as his brothers. The three had begun to stutter things Splinter couldn't understand, but if their tones were anything to go by, they were complaining. He realized that as their voices developed, they would only complain more, and soon he felt like dropping the children and leaving.
He didn't, of course. One could think of doing these things all one wanted, but he never would. It was his fault they had become what they were, and he would take care of them at least until they could take care of themselves.
Another hour of searching and Splinter had decided that the turtle couldn't be in the sewer. Despite the long hours and how late it was-or perhaps how early, he couldn't be sure-the turtles were still awake, so he decided that going to his apartment was still a valid idea.
Finding the apartment itself was easy—he only had to glance out sewer grates to see where he was. Though he got turned around a few times, eventually he arrived in the alley behind the building. Getting three rambunctious children into the apartment without notice, that would be the hard part.
Deciding the easiest method was to run up the staircase behind the building, he kneeled down so Leo could hold on to his shoulders. The ladder itself was hardly used, an old thing with peeling paint that Splinter had hardly glanced at, but it now seemed like a blessing. It was sturdy, he knew this from the few times he had to use it as an exit, and few windows faced it. The ones that did had dark curtains, insuring that the occupants wouldn't have to see a dirty alley in the comfort of their homes.
Hoping anyone around was a heavy sleeper, Splinter took a deep breath before pushing the manhole cover aside and stepping into the alley. He need not have worried—three gasps came from his arms and the children fell silent. A glance told him they were looking at the sky, blinking at the twinkling lights, and he sighed, imagining how they would've reacted in a forest, somewhere they could've truly seen the stars.
There was a brief moment of fear when Splinter wasn't sure if he had unlocked his door. If he kept it locked, this entire mission would be useless. Again though, this fear was brief and dissipated when he turned the knob.
As soon as the door was shut, he set the three down, and they all ran off to explore. The apartment, though small, made Splinter feel at home. This was the only place he could find in New York, and it had become one for fresh starts and trying again.
A look at his kitchen floor, smeared with sewer water and who knew what else, he decided baths would come before supplies. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep the three as clean as they needed to be, but for now, it would have to be sufficient.
He opted to shower first, occupying the boys with his television, turned to the first cartoon he found. As he stood in the hot water, swirls of mud and brown fur went down the drain, and he closed his eyes, thinking of his young bride and bright flashes of blue-green and orange, taking life as he knew it away.
The apartment was still quiet when he left the bathroom, the three staring at the flashing screen, mouths agape. He had dried himself off as best he could, but it was hard to get every piece of fur and he ended up half-fluffy, half-damp.
The mutation hadn't changed his body size much, he noted as he tied an old robe around his body. The children would bathe after he packed.
It didn't take long, as he knew he couldn't bring much and carry the children back to the subway station. He filled a garbage bag with his clothes and as many blankets as he could find before returning to the kitchen.
Being a man who lived alone, he didn't have much food children would enjoy. After shuffling through the cabinets, he found a box of crackers and placed it in a separate bag, followed by any other nonperishable goods and a can opener. This bag would be too heavy to carry tonight, but he would return for it on a later trip.
Bathing the turtle went as expected. He was glad he had put on an older robe, as it was completely ruined by the end of the ordeal. His bathtub itself ended up with a film covering the bottom that wouldn't go away no matter how long he ran water over it. But the children were clean and wrapped in fluffy towels, so he considered it a job well done.
An hour later, they were back in the tunnels, the garbage bag tied around Splinter's wrist. Raph and Mikey had long since fallen asleep in his arms, and, despite his sorrows, Splinter smiled at their hands, intertwined as if to remind each other that they were family. Leo wouldn't let Splinter hold him, but stumbled behind, leaving Splinter to stop and wait for him every so often.
Now that they weren't searching, they arrived at their home rather quickly. Splinter set a blanket out, and the three were out before it fully settled on the ground. He was tired as well, but he needed to explore their home and make a plan.
It seemed this station had been abandoned sometime in the last stages of building. There were multiple empty rooms, and even a small kitchen that Splinter reasoned would've been part of a diner or something similar.
The real find was a bathroom, complete with a few shower stalls and a fine mirror behind elegant sinks. He didn't dare to let himself hope, hand shaking as he reached for the faucet.
He was rewarded with water, the sound of its rush echoing off the walls. He didn't know why the station had running water, how long it would last, or anything else, but to him, it was a blessing. He could bathe, he could drink proper water, he could keep them alive. He felt like shouting in enjoyment, and nearly did, the reminder of the children stopping him.
He remembered the outlets he had seen all around the station. If there was water, there could be electricity—he had never turned on any lights, as he had thought there was no chance of them working.
He could bring the television back, along with the box of old DVDs he had been planning to donate. He would do so the next night, as they slept, and continue until this new place was a home. But for now, he would sleep.
The turtle woke up coughing, dried vomit on his plastron. He felt better, though in desperate need of a bath. He was tired, but the world wasn't spinning, and neither was his stomach, so he considered himself the picture of health.
He stared at his pool of water for a long time before deciding to bathe himself in it. After all, it was already gross enough to make him sick, so it wasn't like he'd be ruining the water or anything like that. Besides, he needed to get the gunk off him at any cost.
The bath itself was uneventful—he dipped in the water, rinsed himself off, and got out less than two minutes later. This simple task done, he had nothing else to do. He had assumed it'd take longer, but he hadn't wanted to be in that cesspool any longer than absolutely necessary.
He was thirsty, though, and this led to another ten minutes of contemplation. Should he drink the water and risk getting sick again, or should he just let himself be thirsty? Some part of him knew the second option wasn't really a choice; he'd die pretty soon if he didn't get rid of his dry throat. He wasn't sure how he knew that, just that a little voice was telling him that, and he felt like that voice was pretty important.
He laid on his stomach, head hanging over the edge of the water in case he did puke again. With a slight grimace, he scooped up the water. It took a moment before he actually lifted his hands to his mouth, long enough that the water had mostly drained back into the pool. Only a few drops ended up in his mouth, but it was enough for him to notice a significant difference.
He had scrunched up his face, ready for the slimy goop that he gulped down yesterday. But today, the water was...almost okay tasting. He paused before drinking anything more, trying to figure what could've made the water better. A minute later, he scooped up another handful of water and let most of it drain out before drinking it.
Instantly, his face lit up and he gasped. That's how it worked—drink less and you couldn't taste it as much! He giggled, pride swelling in his heart. Sure, it was an accident, but he had figured something out!
He spent the next hour simply scooping, draining, and drinking water. By the end, his hands were covered in a slimy layer, and as he scrubbed his hands, he thought about the others.
He wondered if they had figured out how to get good water, or if they were still somewhere where they were given clean liquid. He hoped it was the latter, and that they were together, wherever they were. It'd make it easier to find them if they were all in one spot. He also began to wonder what had happened to the 'hyu-mon' (he had heard store workers refer to them as such when talking to the animals) that took them away from their safety in the first place, as well as those other hyu-mons that had shaken him and given him his name.
He didn't understand how he felt towards them—he wanted to hurt them, but that seemed like such a mean thing to do. But then, they had separated him from his family, dropped him on his shell, and so much more. They were bad, and he found himself missing the nice hyu-mons, the ones who would smile as they fed him a green leaf and clean his home for him.
This led to him missing the other turtles who had been in the enclosure. Yes, there were three that he had considered his, and he had been terrified when he got chosen by the hyu-mon before them. But there were others, who crawled over him and pushed his turtles over and were playful, and he missed them almost as much. He wondered what became of them—were they hurt like he was?
He hoped they weren't, and he hoped they were. This existence was so different from his previous—his thoughts made more sense, they were longer, and he had at least a few more words. But then, becoming what he was now was excruciatingly painful and made his body quiver just thinking of it, and it was a hassle finding food for himself.
As he thought about all these things, water began to drain out of his eyes, and he swiped at it in irritation. It made sense that water that went it would come out, but he had spent a long time getting the water inside him, and he wasn't going to lose all his hard work because of whatever this was.
He was hungry again—the little voice was telling him to go and eat the squirmy things again. He was beginning to grow irritated by this voice and argued with it–they're gross, they make me want to puke, I don't want them–yet he still felt compelled to listen to it.
He sat stubbornly, stomach making an awful noise that seemed to echo throughout his home, until he finally gave in and stood.
As soon as he reached full height, the world spun, and he fell to the ground, whimpering slightly. His stomach was making even worse noises, and he realized what was going to happen just in time to shoot towards the pool. The water coming out of his eyes wasn't too big of a deal anymore, as what was left ended up leaving his body anyway.
He needed food, he needed water, and he needed to not lose it every time he put it in. He closed his eyes in thought, trying to come up with an idea, but finding none.
Perhaps one day he would get used to it.