Wow. This update took me frickin' forever, didn't it? Sorry. I shake my weedy fist at Real Life. It's all her fault. Isn't everything? Enough finger-pointing. I hope you likey…
Chapter 6 – Retribution
"THIS IS THE BEST! DAY! – I mean; it's had its ups and downs…"
Donatello, "New Girl in Town"
.
"UG!" Donatello admonished himself – "why, WHY did I have to text EVERYONE?" As futile as it was to post-mortem his actions, Donnie castigated himself again. How in shell was he going to explain to his brothers and Sensei his entire day spent incommunicado without going to a place that he really, really was not emotionally ready to tour?
Even worse, while he worked the logic of what to tell his family, his mask was driving him nuts. During their lovemaking Donnie had blindfolded April with his headband; the strawberry scent of her hair had permeated the thick cloth. Now each inhalation tripped a thrumming live wire to his brain, the memories of that afternoon stirring his groin.
April wouldn't know it, of course, but she hadn't been the first to wake up post-sexcapades. The intensity of the NYC heat had roused Donatello to find April curled into a sweet ball of slumber. The Turtle's amber eyes flickering against the orange sunshine filtering from above, he'd lost himself counting the sprays of freckles beneath her translucent skin. He bathed in the fire of her sunlit auburn hair. Tenderly, oh-so tenderly, he brushed a ruby strand from her forehead. Drunk with endorphins, doped up on oxytocin, he marveled at the sweet shape of her face, the summer blush of her cheeks, and the stubborn peak of her nose.
At some point during their sleep April had shifted from lying across his torso to the Oriental rug that they'd rode to dizzying altitudes of sexstasy. April had ratcheted Donatello's pleasure from peak to peak, each one higher than the last. He was quite sure she'd taken full advantage of her psychic skillz to pace just how fast, how far, and how rough to work him with her lips; and her hips. When he insisted that he absolutely couldn't take any more – April had ignored him. He'd been convinced that, at her will, he would simultaneously explode and disintegrate.
When April alone was confident that Donnie was spent, the beaming teen had curled onto her Turtle's warm plastron. The last thing he could recall before falling catatonic was cradling a peaceful April O'Neil in his arms while he rocked them both lightly side-to-side on the back ridge of his shell.
Drowsily refocusing on April's sleeping form, Donnie now trailed his eyes over the pale crescent of her curved back, lingering on the dimple where her spine locked into her sacrum. From there, her toned haunches curved perilously downwards, her thighs the smooth, paired sentries of that deepest part of her that granted him sweetest oblivion. Simply put, her body devastated him.
Moved to maudlin, Donnie heard himself whisper: "Hey - Beautiful. I'm pretty sure I love you more than life. I'm just not sure how much of a life I can give you." A moan caught in his throat and the ninja-scientist rebuked himself;
"What is wrong with me?! The best day of my life and I'm already overthinking it! Stupid. Stupid! She's here because she wants to be. She seduced me. Shut up, Donatello, just shut up. Think about tomorrow, tomorrow. What does Sensei say?
"Don't make love to humans"?
Arg! NO! "Be in the moment"! That's what Sensei says!"
Be in the moment. Snapping back to his current situation as he raced homeward through the tunnels, Donnie reflected that if he'd only been in the freakin' moment, he wouldn't have texted everyone to say he was returning home! He would have just slunk back with the tiny hope of talking privately with Master Splinter before having to explain himself to his brothers, too. Or, the genius move would have been to self-destruct his T-phone, blame his AWOL status on a damaged cell and…
And what? What could he possibly have been doing during the seven hours he wasn't in contact? Math? That hadn't happened since he was 11. The junkyard? Shopping for scrap would never take that long – he was too eager to haul his swag back to the Lair and tinker.
This was a rare occasion: Donatello was without answers.
Donnie's feet kept flying against the sewer floor. Too soon, the tunnel converged on the Lair. Its chrome turnstiles came into view, four crooked smiles goading the stressed-out teen. In that exact moment, Donnie's T-phone hiccupped the first bar of the TV theme tune to "My Little Brony".
Praying that Michelangelo's message was a divine intervention to all his problems, he yanked his cell from his belt and read the text:
hey D just texting to make sure you're not back yet cos i wanna be back before you to see you get in trouble the whole way Later bro! :]
Donatello…snapped.
"FRICKIN' T-PHONE! Nyyyuuuu-UHHHHHRRR!"
In a fit of anxiety-fueled rage, Donnie pile-drived his phone into the sewer's concrete floor; then explosively punctuated the phone's castigation with the end of his bo staff. The T-phone was solid but it had, quite literally, met its maker – who wielded a wooden stick like a boss. As if to underscore its bad luck, the phone's final resting place was a small, scummy puddle.
Panting from his meltdown, Donnie glared in evil satisfaction at the shattered cell. His narrowed eyes warmed from ice to amber as he realized the carnage he'd wrought. The T-phone was but an innocent bystander. It had suffered so.
"DONATELLO."
Time's passage went glacial as Donnie lifted his head to confirm that, indeed: Master Splinter stood before him.
Shame, fear, loss, and – hmmm, this was new – Defiance: these were the emotions Splinter was pained to watch roil across his son's eyes. Even if Donatello had not smelled like he had nested in April O'Neil's underwear drawer, Splinter would have known that they had been - Together.
Splinter carefully considered his son. He had meditated on this conversation for hours; and yet he was still at a loss for how best to handle the complexity and severity of his son's neglect and absenteeism.
After a sufficiently and deliberately torturous pause, the teen's Father spoke:
"Donatello. You have returned to us. It is a relief to see you In One Piece."
Ever the genius, Donnie read the subtlety of Splinter's words: if he was in one piece, then has was now game to be taken apart. As if he'd swallowed his bo staff width-wise, the cowed youth wheezed,
"Hai, Sensei".
"So", Splinter continued, "You are not injured?"
Again, Donatello squeaked: "No, Sensei."
"You were gone A Long Time." It was not a question. Nonetheless, once again the young Turtle pressed out the rote reply: "Hai, Sensei".
"Donatello." The Rat trained his ochre eyes on his son so intensely that it appeared he was looking at the back of his shell. "For this entire day of your illicit absence: What do you think I have been thinking?"
Oshell.
Sensei was ninja in all ways of the word: effortlessly, he could devastate body and mind. For Donnie's brothers, corporal punishment and chore duty were effective behavioural modifiers. Reverse psychology pitting Raphael against Leonardo also had correctional merits. But Splinter knew that, for Donatello, the harshest consequence, and hotline to remorse, was his own morality. Donnie visualized the equation in his mind:
(([I.Q. x Insight] + Sense of Duty) x Empathy)Guilt = FeelingSoBadINeverWantToDoThisAgain.
What did Donatello think his father had been thinking? When his son disappeared without word or trace for nearly a day? When the Kraang and The Foot Clan were relentlessly hunting them? And when, thus far, the most disobedient things Donatello had ever done were stripping Splinter's hair dryer for parts, and ordering pricey boutique coffee beans online?
The permutations of that answer had tormented Donnie from the time he woke up to this moment; and would clearly continue to punish him as Sensei turned the psychological screws. Plus, Splinter had never quite forgotten about the hair dryer.
"I…I think that you must have been angry. Furious, even. And – and worried. So very, very worried..." Donnie's voice trailed off in a whisper. He started to break down as the full-force of his insight kicked in. The words came tumbling out:
"Sensei, I'm so, SO Sorry. As much as I try, I can't imagine what I put you and my brothers through when I didn't show up for training; when I didn't call you…" Donnie swallowed "When I didn't come home…"
Donatello glanced around. "W-where are the others? Mikey texted that they were topside?"
"Your brothers? They went searching for you." Splinter's voice was ice laced with knives. "At risk of exposing and endangering themselves, they went aboveground when they feared you were in need of rescue."
Donnie hung his head, his bo staff sagging in his arm.
"Yee-ess, my son. I am furious that, for your own convenience, you put your brothers lives in danger needlessly. And you are correct that I was worried beyond ken at your unexplained, prolonged, and highly uncharacteristic disappearance. And I remain worried. But, now: for different reasons."
Donatello felt like he was dropping through the concrete floor.
"My son: where have you been?"
The tension was intolerable. Donnie didn't trust himself to speak.
Splinter stood, calmly, as the silence spaghettified into the tunnel's dark depths.
Time went glacial again, even as it sped up. While the main program in Donnie's brain iteratively queried responses to Splinter, a short term memory subroutine ran in parallel:
Shyly – April? H-how long have you thought about doing…This? With…me?
Grinning – Doing what, Donnie? …Oh – you mean, playing your physique like a violin? Pretty much, like, forever.
Eye ridges raised – April, that's temporally implausible.
Patiently – Well, it felt like forever, waiting to do it.
Wink – OK, that I accept. Saucy – Erm, what did you do to spend the time?
Wouldn't YOU like to know?
Chuckle – Well, yes, that's why I'm asking.
Slyly - I daydreamed...
Playing along – Ah. Just…daydreamed?
Wicked glint – um…and played me like a violin.
Silent, eyes wide: *
Casually – Every night. Several times a night. Of the every night that I did the thing I did, several times…
"Ah-HURM." Splinter cleared his throat.
Donatello's mind-math and recall both ground to a halt. How could facing Sensei terrify him more than facing The Shredder?
"April. I was with April", he blurted.
"Ah-hurm" came Splinter's only reply.
"She – I – we – It – " The words hung over Donatello like noose.
"I see", surmised the Rat.
Shocked from his verbal fumbling, Donnie quizzed, "You do?"
Splinter measured his son. The time for torture was past. At least for now. Now, it was time for compassion. This conversation with his young adult son would have to be a delicate dance…
"Yes. You and April O'Neil had sex."
Both of them jumped as Donnie's bo staff fell from his hand to toll against the concrete ground.
"N-nno! That's the thing! We didn't! Well, we did a lot, and one could make the case that we certainly didn't hold much back, but…"
Aware that his self-edit was in major malfunction, Donnie stopped making words.
While Splinter knew better than to predict how this discussion would unfold, he had a short-list of vital points that he needed to raise with his son:
1) Safety – no nookie while wearing weapons; place them on the bedside table for easy access.
2) Honour – first and foremost consider one's partner's emotions; the rest will follow appropriately.
3) Responsibility – be authentic to one's self; to do otherwise disrespects one's bedfellow.
4) Spirit – be passionate and creative; no one likes a bore (unless that is their kink: then it is being creative).
5) Discretion – what has been heard cannot be unheard; and the more one reveals the lower one sinks.
6) Intelligence – always lock the door; and wash hands before and after.
"Donatello. Make no mistake that you will make amends for your disappearance today because it was unacceptable. But also understand that the sacred things that happened – that I suspect are the sole reason of your absence, hmmm? – I was sure that you and your brothers would never be blessed enough to struggle with. These are complex feelings that tap into one's sense of self and self-worth. It is easy to lose perspective with such strong emotions. So, it is wise to deal with them in healthy ways – not bottle them up as you, in particular, my introspective son, might be tempted to do.
If you and April feel this strongly for each other, then this is only good news to be celebrated. But quietly; with no details that might make everyone feel very awkward. These natural process are so common as to be mundane – but without fail they feel exceptional when they happen to you. Particularly because of the joy I knew, and then lost, with my beloved Tang Shen, I support you both. But I would be no example of a Father if I did not emphasize, again, the need to follow The Six Rules for both your sakes, and the sake of our family. And if you ever need a watchword to guide your sexual decision making, then look no farther than your own martial arts training.
"Be the last one to start a fight, and the first one to end it"?, Donnie offered.
"No. That applies to marriage. What I mean, my son, is: Respect."
The sound of many pounding footfalls interrupted the Father-Son convo:
"DONNIE! You DID get here first, Bro! Aw, man, why didn't you listen to my text?!", Michelangelo leaped onto Donnie's shell and stuck a spit-slicked finger in his ear-hole. Warily, Raphael and Leonardo skidded to a halt and paused a few feet away from Master Splinter, feeling the tension crackling off his fur.
"Oh, hey, Sensei! So, it's totally on!? How many of my chores do I get to skip for the next week? Donnie, I bet you wish you could open a Kraang portal and go back in time to when you didn't get in trouble!"
Donnie knew better but he couldn't help himself: "Mikey, that's not how the Kraang portals work! They bend space, not time, and besides why would I want to go to a Kraang dimension when…
"ENOUGH!" Emotionally exhausted yet aware that he must put on the appropriate show to maintain family order, Splinter spoke.
"Donatello. In penance for: leaving Without Permission; making your family fear Excessively that you had come to harm; putting your brothers Lives at risk while they searched for you; and Withholding information about where you have been and what you have been doing – You will assume ALL your brothers chores for an entire Month; and every day, You Will Teach Michelangelo Physics.
Mikey beamed.
"Oh, snap", muttered Raph.
Splinter shot him a fearsome look. "Now, I want to hear nothing more from ANY of you! Quiet time in each of your rooms, alone, while I meditate to regain at least some of my sanity. Leonardo, I will expect a full report from you later about this evening's patrol."
"Hai, Sensei", Leo returned seriously.
Each brother was positively dying to get the scoop on Donnie but they all knew better than to ignore their Father's commands when he was in such a state. Silently exchanging mocking glances and taunting gestures at Donatello, the teens slipped into their bedrooms to meditate on how badly their brother had screwed himself over.