Chapter 2

"C'mon brainiac, move that shell of yours!" Raphael teased as he took another swipe at Donatello.

For his part, Donatello contained his snarky remark and actually landed a hit on Raphael; his first of the practice. A duck and a sweep of the leg caught Raphael off guard. It was enough to let Donatello spring back up and clip his jaw with a fist.

"Who needs to move their shell again?" Donatello grinned and rolled away from Raph's annoyed strike.

It was no secret that Donatello was not a big fan of hand-to-hand combat. He preferred using objects and angles to defeat his opponents, not brutish force. He also wasn't a fan of sparring with Raphael, the strongest and most ruthless of his brothers in combat. Where Donatello calculated, Raphael charged; where he timed, Raphael struck. It was difficult to beat someone who relied so heavily on instinct, like every attack was programmed into his DNA. Target: Donatello. Mission: humiliate with extreme prejudice.

Donatello's dependence on his brain was being tested. Two months ago his first migraine hit, and they had become more frequent as the weeks wore on. Right now an unwelcome headache was plucking at his temples. Each time he winced at a stronger pulse, Raphael slipped past his defenses and pinned him, and he was left with his head spinning and the nausea building in his gut.

Donatello made another attack, this time missing Raph by a centimetre and having to somersault out of the way of a flying kick. As he stood, Donatello wobbled and his eyes crossed for a second. Raphael latched onto the flaw and coiled for his final attack.

"The fight still ain't over. I've pinned you three times," Raphael said, his teeth bared in triumph. "And it looks like I'm gonna make it four."

Raphael lunged just as Donatello's vision went blurry, and he was unable to ward off the attack. Don grunted as his shell hit the floor, his head knocking against the tatami mats underneath him.

"Gotcha again!" Raph crowed in victory, resting his weight on Donatello.

Donatello squinted to focus on Raphael, his vision swimming with red and green as the headache flooded his senses, swelling to a full migraine. The force of the pain hit his stomach, and Donatello could feel his insides rolling, working their way up his esophagus.

"Get off!" The command came out horse, barely louder than a regular speaking voice. It was only when Donatello shoved Raph's shoulder that he freed him. Donatello rolled onto his side, short of breath as he struggled to his feet. His stomach churned like rapids as he stumbled out of the dojo, making a direct path for the bathroom with his family calling his name behind him.

'Almost there…not much further…I can make it.'

These are the things he told himself. But he didn't make it.

Don doubled over between the doorway of Raph's room and the bathroom and retched, disgusted with himself. He shook as his stomach emptied itself, leaning heavily onto the wall for support.

He sensed his father coming up behind him but made no move to speak even as the wave of nausea passed, leaving only a pool of sick in its place. Donatello stayed frozen with his hand braced against the wall for another few minutes, trying to ignore the sour taste in his mouth while he gulped lungfuls of air.

When he felt his father's paws land on his arms and gently nudge him, he let himself be steered to the bathroom, holding onto the wall for support. Inside the bathroom, Donatello let his father clean his face and rinsed his mouth. Once he was clean, Donatello sat on the closed toilet lid and bent over at his father's request, relaxed when Master Splinter pressed a cool cloth to the back of his neck. Donatello was like putty, pliable to his father's hands, not once speaking or having to be told what to do.

It was only when Donatello's breath evened out that that he could speak.

"I'm sorry, Sensei. I don't know what's wrong with me today, I just feel…really off."

Master Splinter placed a sympathetic paw on his shoulder, rubbing circles to calm him. His words careful, he said, "It is not just today, my son. You have not been well for many months, and I fear that your illness is more serious than we initially believed. I have spent many evenings meditating on your energy, and it is growing darker each day. I think that it is time to seek a diagnosis."

Donatello gave a shallow nod, staring hard at the bathroom floor as he formed his plan. "I'll give Leatherhead a call so we can run some tests as soon as possible. He has more medical equipment than I do."

"That would be best," Master Splinter agreed. "Now, I believe you should rest. Training is over for the day."

"Thank you, Master Splinter," Donatello said as he rose from his seat on the toilet lid and left the bathroom.

On the other side of the door, he noticed that his mess was cleaned up and Raphael was leaning against the wall, biting a thumbnail as he stared into space. After a few seconds, Raphael realized who was next to him and he immediately dropped his hand, pushing off the wall.

"Donnie, I'm real sorry. I didn't mean to hurt ya," Raph said, his brows knit in the middle and his mouth pulled down at the corners. In his peripherals, Don could see Raph's fists rhythmically clenching and relaxing.

Don smiled at his brother's concern. Now that he was able to see straight, he noticed Mikey and Leo peering around the door to the dojo behind Raph. Leo's face was drawn in worry, his eyes on Don as if he could figure out his mystery illness merely by looking. Mikey's lips were pinched in concern, his brow wrinkled.

Donatello shifted under his brothers' scrutiny, unable to stand the pity in their faces. Sprinting from practice to go toss his cookies was bad enough, now he was the focus of the entire lair's worry.

"It wasn't your fault, Raph. I was already feeling sick; you just tackled me at a bad moment."

Unable to bear the tension, Don stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Raph in an uncommon hug. Raph seized the opportunity to latch onto Don, squeezing him all too tightly as relief surged through him. Don choked on his breath, his brother's hold like a python winding around his neck.

When Don finally pried himself from the hug, Don felt exhausted from the morning's events. He mumbled something about going to his room for a nap, and Raph bobbed his head in understanding.

"If you need anything, just holler," he added, giving Don's arm a squeeze.

"Sure," Don entertained Raph's worry even though he knew he wouldn't ask for his help. "See you later."

As he trudged to his room, already fantasizing about how nice his cool bed sheets would feel on his clammy skin, Donatello felt his brothers' eyes fixed on his shell. It almost felt like they were onlookers at a funeral, and he was walking to his grave.