Broken
He was gone. His best friend, the one who understood him when no one else did, lay shattered on the floor in front of him. Mangled, broken, fluids leaking onto the floor, as if they meant nothing, as if they hadn't been keeping him alive for all these years. Horror tore at Donnie's throat, fighting to claw its way out into a scream, a cry.
Gods, no, please, please, please no!
Mind scrambling desperately for a way to mend what had been broken, he called out for help. Chest tightened with agony, fighting for sanity, Donatello found himself wishing, praying to God that he could find the skills in his fingers to put him back together again.
He was the engineer, the medic, damn it! He had to fix this! No one else could. The weight crushed down upon him.
In his heart of hearts, he knew it was too late. Nothing he could do would ever be enough, for death had touched him, and left him cold, cold and lifeless, but still warm with the power that had once surged through him.
Donatello sunk to his knees, broken, defeated, as the cold, hard truth ripped through his soul and tore it to pieces.
His computer was broken, and there was no fixing it this time.