Don woke with a gasping, silent scream in his throat, his fingers digging into his blanket. Sweat drenched his skin, soaking into the sheets under him. Every muscle in his body was rigid, taut as a bowstring about to snap.

For a moment the dream still had him in its grip — he could still feel fists smashing into his side, hot breath on his neck, a scraping, tearing pain inside him. He could still hear April sobbing and screaming his name. It was only when the sensations began to dissipate that his gasps began to slow into normal breaths, and his body slowly began to release its tension.

He was in his room — a dark, womblike environment full of half-built gadgets, an aquarium, bookshelves and a worktable with a comfortable chair, as well as the loft bed where he slept. It was a place uniquely his, tailored according to his needs. No enemy had ever come into this room. Even his brothers didn't typically enter his space, for fear of wrecking some machine he was working on. He should feel safe in his bedroom — but instead, his mind and body rang out with his nightmares.

It had been like this for the last week, ever since he had been rescued. Every night he was wracked with nightmares — and they weren't all things that had happened. The other night he had dreamed of Racer raping April instead of him, and woke with her screams still echoing in his ears. It had taken him several panicked minutes to remember that that hadn't happened.

April. In the real world, he hadn't seen April since the morning after their rescue, just before she left for the police station with Raph. The sight of her had torn at his heart — she had looked so ravaged and fragile.

Don slowly sat up and rested his face in his shaking hands. He felt fragile himself — somehow felt both numb and painfully raw. It was as if Racer had torn his body open and left him to bleed little by little, but at the same time he felt as though his emotions had been muted, muffled, dulled — all except the grinding fear, the depression that wrapped around him like a cloak. Choking him. Smothering him. Drowning him.

He drew a shuddering breath and hugged his arms around himself, fighting the lingering sensations and fear of his dream. He should be getting better from what had happened — but he wasn't.

Slowly, Don climbed down the ladder that led to his loft bed. Usually he left lights on so that he could navigate his room, or simply leap down and start drawing schematics or tinkering with devices if inspiration struck. But for the last week, he hadn't bothered. He had rarely stirred from his bed, and not quickly enough to need the lights.

He slid into his chair and stared down at the schematics for the Turtle Tunneler, which he had been making some adjustments to. Working on his inventions had always been a pleasure for him rather than a chore — he loved the feeling of making something new for himself and his brothers, and he loved the feeling of tinkering and improving until his creations were as close to perfect as possible. There was nothing he could quite compare to the feeling.

But for the last week, he couldn't quite manage to focus on his work. Every time he tried, he found that his attention slipped, and the feeling of enjoyment had turned gray and lifeless.

At least his physical injuries had healed, he reflected. The paralytic had finally been flushed out of his system the day after his rescue, though movements had been painful. The bruises the Purple Dragons had left all over his body were almost gone now. And according to Leo, who had been helping him with his own medical care, the tears to his cloaca were healing. That was some small comfort.

"Don."

A soft voice from outside his room. Leo.

"Are you okay? I was passing and I heard you…"

It was nice of Leo to pretend, but Don knew that his brothers had been checking on him regularly. Despite the silence they maintained whenever they came by, he had been trained to hear the quietest of footsteps. They didn't know what to say or do, so they tried to make sure he was all right as well they could — and sometimes they did try to reach out to him.

Leo appeared in the doorway. "Don, we're going to do some training in a little while. Would you like to join us?"

Don took a shaky breath. He didn't feel like training, but Leo sounded a little desperate. "I'm coming," he said quietly.

He hadn't trained in the last week. At first, Splinter said that he should sit out their exercises until his injuries healed. But they hadn't tried to get him to join in even when he felt well enough to do so, as if they were afraid he was going to break apart if they put any pressure on him.

Of course, they might have a reason to be apprehensive. They still didn't know everything that had happened to him. Leo and Raph had found out separately, and Don was fairly sure that Master Splinter had figured it out himself. As for Mikey… well, Don wasn't sure if Mikey had figured it out or been told what had happened, but he was fairly sure he knew.

But he hadn't been able to speak to them about what happened. He couldn't. The thought of telling them what he had suffered — what Racer had done to him — curdled the words in his throat.

As he moved out into the lair, he heard familiar voices talking down below him. He could tell they were trying to be quiet, but he could still hear them clearly — Raph's gravelly voice tended to carry, and Casey wasn't a man of naturally muted voice.

"—think I should go check on her?"

"Yeah, that'd be good. She's visited a couple times, but Don was asleep when she did. And she was in pretty rough shape when we saw her," Raph said. "Leo checked her store every day. It's all closed down."

"I'll do that," Casey said determinedly.

"Anyway, keep us informed, willya?"

"Will do. Hun hasn't shown up yet, so I guess he's probably in with the Foot Clan right now. But he's probably heard about the warehouse fallin' in and all those guys gettin' killed or hospitalized, and they'll all be in jail when they recover. He's gonna be searching for who's workin' on their own in the Purple Dragons without his approval, and things are gonna get real messy in that gang when he finds 'em." There was a note of glee in Casey's voice at the idea of internal conflict in the Dragons.

Don closed his eyes tightly as he landed on the first level of the lair. He didn't want to hear about the Purple Dragons — it just brought to mind Racer's gleaming smile, and the cold cruel eyes of the countless men around him as they had grabbed him — grabbed April —

"Don, are you okay?" Leo said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Don swallowed hard. "I'm fine," he said, wrapping his arms around his torso, as if he were cold.

He knew that it hadn't convinced Leo — his brother drew closer and fixed his keen eyes on Don's face — but he felt too tired and hollow to say anything more. He was already regretting leaving his room, and he hadn't even really done anything yet.

"… better keep those Purple Dragons locked up, because if they don't, I'll make 'em regret they were ever born," Raph was saying ominously. Out of the corner of his eye, Don saw the flash of steel as Raph drew his sai, as if the Purple Dragons were standing in the lair and he was preparing to take them out then and there.

A sudden stab of fear pierced through Don. He didn't want Raph to go after the Purple Dragons — especially by himself. His brothers had already been put in enough danger because of his abduction, spending almost two days fighting Dragons and nearly being crushed by a falling building. The last thing he wanted was for Raph to risk being captured as well, especially if Hun was going to be involved.

He felt a hand rest on his shell and another move down to his forearm, gently pushing him forward and away from Raph and Casey. "Come on, Don," Leo said quietly.

Mikey chose that moment to come out of the kitchen, holding a plate of pancakes slathered in syrup. His face was wreathed in smiles, but Don thought that he looked a little strained.

"Hey, bro! I was just cooking these. Wanna have some?" he said, holding out the plate. "Your personal chef made them for your culinary pleasure."

Don looked at the plate and his stomach rebelled, cramping and twisting up. He felt vaguely nauseous at the idea of eating anything, but at the same time he felt a stab of guilt at the thought of disappointing his brother. Mikey's eyes were glued to his face as he tried to think of something to say.

"Don, you haven't eaten in almost three days," Leo said softly. "And when you did, it was just a handful of crackers and peanut butter."

Don sighed. "I — I just feel a little sick."

"At least give it a try, Don," Mikey said.

Don's eyes drifted down to the floor. "I'll — try," he said finally.

Just then, Raph and Casey came out into the open, both of their faces grim. Raph's eyes widened as he saw Don sitting there; evidently he had been too absorbed in their conversation to notice his genius brother emerging from his room. Casey looked surprised as well, and Don found himself wondering if their human friend had come to visit on other days, when he had been locked away in his bedroom.

"Seeya, Raph," Casey said awkwardly, moving to the other end of the lair. "Hope you feel better real soon, Don."

"Seeya, Casey," Raph responded.

Don waited for Raph to turn around and speak to him, but Raph simply lowered his head and stared down at the floor. Tension radiated from him — it was in the set of his mouth, the stiffness of his shoulders, the clenching of his fists, the faint cording of the muscles in his neck. As Don watched, he began to shake slightly, his hands still gripping the hilts of his sai. He looked as though he was struggling not to explode from the rage building inside him, as if violent action was the only thing that could abate his feelings. And if he charged out there on his own, it could only make things worse.

With a roar, Raph pulled one of his sai and sent it flying across the lair. Don flinched as the sai pierced a training dummy through the head, knocking it back against the wall. The head fell to the floor with a clatter, the sai falling loose.

"Do you feel better now?" Leo said, putting his hands on his hips. "It's time for training, Raph."

Raph wheeled around, his eyes flashing. For a moment, Don thought he was going to tell Leo where he could put his training, but then his brother's gaze moved down towards Don. Slowly, Raph's tension drained away, and he came closer.

"How you doin', Don?" he said.

Don smiled feebly at him, but his heart sank at the strange, strained look in Raph's eyes. His brothers were all walking on eggshells around him, afraid that if they did or said something wrong, it would break him. Mikey wasn't joking, which was abnormal for him. Leo was being protective and careful with him. Even Raphael was trying to suppress his fury.

It made him feel even more removed and distant from them — the way he had felt ever since they had saved him from Racer and the Purple Dragons. It was as if the rape had torn him away from his loving brothers, leaving a bleeding chasm between them. He felt a desperate desire to feel close to them again, to have them speak and act their minds as they normally did.

He just didn't know how.