*I just wanted to take a moment today to thank my friends and faithful reviewers for all of their support. You make all of the sweat and tears I pour into writing these stories worth my time. No one but my younger sister (who is constant witness to the number of hours I spend shut-up in my room, and often complains about it) knows how much work goes into writing fics at the pace that I do. It's insanity. It really is. But I do it because I love it, and because I crave the interaction with other people. Thanks for being there - thanks for reading. :)
It had been another somber day around the Den, although Brandon didn't mind the silence. He preferred the quiet whenever he could get it, but he couldn't stand to be shut up in the bedroom for hours either. Brandon had found himself often seeking out the company of others, despite not having any true desire to interact with them. Everyone had been cooperating with his wishes today, to the point that he hardly noticed when someone left, or another person replaced them.
Brandon felt like an empty shell compared to the man he had been, and he couldn't think of anything that might be able to cure the feeling. He'd attempted to stay numb and avoid his emotions as much as possible, but the flashbacks and unexpected triggers brought them to the surface, whether he wanted to deal with his feelings or not. Part of Brandon's mind told him he was being ridiculous, but he was incapable of overriding the daunting fear that gripped him more strongly than anything he'd ever felt.
As he leaned against the couch that afternoon, however, his thoughts were centering on the only other subject that had been able to occupy his mind - a certain purple-masked turtle. The so-called "procedure" that the docs had performed that morning wasn't surgery any more than Mike's stem cell transplants had been, but the atmosphere was still muffled.
Brandon looked around the room, focusing on both of his sisters and Leo and Raph in turn. The absence of any noise from the kids suggested that they were either napping, or being entertained somewhere else. He hadn't noticed when they'd left the room, in any case.
His eyes traveled to the door that led to the Lab, and he considered getting up to knock on it. Luke had told them hours ago that Donatello was doing fine; the turtle hadn't even been fully sedated for the procedure. But working up the energy to rise and walk into the next room wasn't even something he felt like doing. The only small comfort Brandon had experienced of late was in being idle, where nothing actively bothered him except for the physical aches and pains that remained from his ordeal.
Despite the fact that he didn't want to move, the image of Donatello continued to sit in the back of his mind, like a memory that was unwilling to be repressed. Brandon had spoken with the turtle a little when he'd been unconscious, but since Donny had come around, he'd barely spoken a word in his presence. He'd made a number of trips to see Donatello in the company of others, if only to assure his faltering mind that his friend wasn't dead, as his visions often tried to convince him.
Presently he heard someone's voice buzzing in the background, and Brandon snapped out of his reverie to see Luke and Jenna both standing nearby.
"All of his life signs have been normal," Luke was explaining. "Don's been conscious, and he knows where he is. We won't know how effective the procedure was for a couple of days probably, but Caleb has high hopes for him."
Jenna smiled, and Brandon marveled at the genuine relief in her features. She seems really convinced that Donny is going to be okay. I hope things will improve quickly. Don doesn't deserve to be stuck in some kind of weird limbo for the rest of his life because I "stormed" when I should have stayed.
"So it's all right if anybody else would like to see him; the visits just need to be brief," Luke went on. "He's still getting tired out easily, and I think even listening to others talk becomes a burden."
"I want to see him," Brandon said before he could stop himself.
The reaction from the rest of the room was instantaneous, as nearly everyone's head snapped toward him at once.
"Am I allowed to see him?"
"Yes, Brandon, of course," Luke replied. "The statement about anyone being welcome included you."
The bronze-haired man got to his feet, unconsciously clutching his broken arm against his chest.
"Do you want me to come, Bran?" Raphael offered.
Brandon shook his head. "No. I want to do this myself." He snuck a glance at Luke to see his reaction, and didn't miss the way the doctor caught his breath. "I'm not going to hurt Donny, you guys. Please believe that. I know I'm screwed up, but I'm not that out of my mind." At least, I don't think I am, he added inwardly.
"Okay," Luke said evenly. "Come on in."
Brandon shuffled across the room and followed the doctor into the Lab. Caleb was inputting some kinds of numbers into the computer, and Don was sitting up with the aid of the raised back of the bed.
Luke cleared his throat. "Caleb? We're going to give Brandon a little while with Donny."
The bespectacled man turned around in his chair and nodded toward Brandon. "All right. It would probably do me some good to get out of this room for a while anyway. Watch over him well, Brandon."
Brandon knew that the men were a little concerned about leaving him alone with the turtle, and he didn't really blame them. Still, he was grateful when they left, and he could face Donatello's gaze on his own.
"Hey," he greeted the turtle, his voice cracking slightly. "You're sitting up." It wasn't much of an opening, but it was all the man could manage.
Donny nodded, eyeing him curiously as Brandon reached to drag a chair closer to where he was lying.
"You're going to have to give me a little leeway, Don," Bran said after a few more beats of silence. "Things are messed up, I…I'm messed up, in case you couldn't tell. But you don't really know very much about it, do you? I asked them not to tell you."
The turtle shook his head, but the concern in his brown eyes deepened.
"I don't think anyone's told you the whole story of that night yet, because it's just…it's not easy to go back there, Donny. I'm sure you probably don't remember it, and I wouldn't want you to. But that night, among other things, is one that I can't get out of my head. Did you know that we had a fight?"
Don's eyes widened suddenly, and traveled to Brandon's arm. The man almost laughed.
"No, you didn't hurt me – it wasn't a physical fight. I found the records that you'd been keeping on my dad, and I lost it."
Donatello's guilty grimace at least told Brandon the turtle knew of the papers to which he was referring.
"I started out by demanding an explanation, but then I didn't want to hear it. I ran out on you that night, and went back to my apartment. I was hard on you. But as angry as I was…it wasn't really about you, Donny. I was just frustrated about my dad, the man that he is, and always will be. He'll never change, but that's not really the point."
Brandon paused, looking down at the floor. "What happened next is complicated. I got into trouble on the surface, and I didn't have a chance to call for help or set off my beacon. Truth is, I didn't have my phone. I accidentally left it underground in my stupid rampage to escape my emotions.
"That's why you came to the surface, Don. You were already settled in for the night, and had no intention of going anywhere. But you came up to return my phone, and to try and fix things from the fight we'd had. You're always the peacemaker. You probably would have said or done anything to make up with me. Instead you were attacked too, and nearly killed."
Brandon held Donatello's steady gaze for a moment, and sensed the questions that the turtle wanted to ask. No one had told Don about the resurgence of the Akiudo yet, and he wasn't going to be the one to spill the news to him. As the turtle's stare became pleading, the man shook his head.
"I can't, Donny. I just can't. I'm sorry." He hung his head as tears came. "Both our lives were changed that night, but there's something I can't escape from, no matter what I do. You shouldn't have ever been in the line of fire. You wouldn't have been anywhere near the danger if I hadn't gone off that way. None of this would have happened to you."
He glanced up as he caught Donny's movement out of the corner of his eye, and saw the turtle shake his head emphatically.
"You wouldn't blame me, Don, because that's not the kind of guy you are. But when it comes down to it, I set the events into motion. In a way, I almost feel like I deserve what I got. But you? You don't know how hard it is to see you like this. I wish I could trade places with you, because I'm positive you'd deal with this better than I am. Not that I'd want you to have gone through that crap either.
"It's a losing situation no matter how I look at it. It's ironic to see you fighting tooth and nail to hang onto your life, when all I'd like to do is let go of mine."
Donatello shook his head sharply.
"You don't understand," Brandon whispered. "It's different, everything is different now. There are no colors; it's all black. No amount of blankets or heaters can make me feel warm. Nothing can fill me up. Food doesn't taste good, water doesn't…" He shuddered involuntarily. "I can barely drink anything without remembering the panic, the sensation that I was drowning. It's all I can do to choke something down, and people have to watch to make sure that I do.
"Everyone's trying to help me. I couldn't ask for better friends, but they don't get it. I don't want help, I don't want anything. I want to fall asleep and not be forced to feel or to wake up again. It would be better, a lot better than living life this way. I wish my captors would have finished me properly, and let me have the chance to die for you. I could have felt heroic then, as if I was actually accomplishing something good. Instead I'm a tormented wreck who doesn't even resemble a real person."
Brandon's words spilled out much more freely than he'd intended, and he could instantly see that he was upsetting the turtle. The sight of rising tears in Donatello's eyes made him wish that he hadn't come into the room at all.
"I'm sorry for making you my sounding board, Donny," he said hoarsely. "I don't feel like I'm in control of my own mind; it feels like everything is in chaos. I shouldn't have done this to you. I'm sorry." Brandon rubbed his eyes wearily.
Donatello's frustration with the situation came out as he shook his head again.
"I'm sorry for barging in here and upsetting you, Donny. That wasn't my intention. It all came up, and now it's out there, and I can't take it back. I shouldn't have come." Brandon paused, but he couldn't think of anything else to say that would possibly make things any better.
"Make sure you rest, Donny, because this family needs to get you back. I know you'll make it; that's not even a question in my mind. You and your brothers are strong. I used to think I was too, that nothing would be able to break me completely. Being with you guys has the effect of making someone feel bolder, and less afraid of things. Now everything's been turned upside down, and I really don't know if I'll be okay again."
Brandon got to his feet ponderously, as if he'd just absorbed several more pounds of weight on his frame. "When it comes down to it, I have no one to truly blame except for myself."