Title: Suppressed Suffering
Day: Whumptober 2023, Day 15
Prompt: "I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself" Makeshift Bandages/Suppressed Suffering/ "I'm fine"
Fandom: TMNT 2003
Word Count: 5786
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: T
Characters: Donatello, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Splinter, Casey Jones, April O'Neil
Warning: SAINW
Summary: Don doesn't remember where Draco and the Daimyo's son sent him. He doesn't care to, either. But suffering of that level will not stay suppressed forever. Little signs show in the ensuing weeks, until it can't be suppressed anymore.
Notes: I feel like I could have done better with the ending, but I was literally rushing this one, counting down the minutes until midnight—and I still didn't make it.

Suppressed Suffering

"Hey, Donnie. Those bandages look a little rough. Need help changing them out?"

"What?" Don looked over at Raph, and then down at himself. Sure enough, there were sloppily done bandages on him. He had a couple of places on his arm, and one on his leg. He blinked at them. He didn't remember getting hurt enough to need bandages while he'd been gone.

Actually, he didn't remember…

"Donnie?"

Don shook his head and looked back up at Raph. "I'm fine," he said. "It was a long, uh, ten minutes."

Raph snorted. "Ten minutes. Right. Maybe here, like Case said. But I was gone for three days."

"Three days?" Mikey said, cutting into the conversation. "I was only gone a day! I wish I had three days where I was!"

"I was gone for two," Leo added in.

They all looked at Don expectantly, but Don's mind blanked. How long had he been gone? Where did he even go? He couldn't remember.

"Mine was something like that," he said. "I didn't really pay attention. But my guess is that, with the time scepter involved, the normal expectations for the flow of time don't apply. It pulled us from wherever it wanted to."

"Well, ain't that great," Raph said.

Don shook his head. "I'm going to go take care of these," he said, indicating the makeshift bandages, and headed off towards his lab and the medical supplies.

The bandages, if they could be called that, were little more than scraps of cloth that had been put over some cuts. Don looked at the cuts carefully, but he couldn't remember getting them. One on his arm was long and jagged, like it had been caught on something. It probably could have used stitches, but it was far enough along now that Don didn't want to do that unless he had to. The other on his arm looked more like a weapon had caught him, like a shuriken or a kunai. It was deep, but it was small, and looked like it could use a cleaning out.

The one on his leg spanned across his thigh, but it was a very clean cut, like he sometimes gave himself when working with sharp metal. Don laid his hands down on either side of the cut and looked at them. There were small, faint lines on his palms—nearly healed cuts—that lined up perfectly with the cut on his thigh. Whatever had happened, it looked like something similar to a sheet of metal dropped on his thigh. He must have been wearing gloves for his hands to be in so much better shape, but still.

What had he been doing? Don still couldn't recall.

There was a knock on his door, and Don looked up. Leo was standing there. "I just wanted to check on you," he started, and then grimaced as he saw the cuts. "Those are some pretty nasty cuts, Don. Want me to help with them?"

"No thanks," Don said, the words falling from his mouth easily. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Leo said. "I don't mind."

"Leo, I'm fine," Don said again, stressing it. "Look, worry about yourself first, alright? You have injuries to tend to, as well. Besides, these are already on their way to being healed. Nothing to do but keep them clean and rebandage them."

Leo frowned. "If you're sure," he said.

"I am," Don reassured him. "I'm fine. Go on, I'll be out there in a minute to help."

Leo reluctantly left him, and Don turned his attention back to his own injuries, frowning at them. Where had he gone to that he ended up with injuries like this that had enough time to partially heal? He wasn't sure.

In the end, Don bandaged them up, and moved on, trying not to be too concerned about it.

...

"Donatello? Donatello?"

"Huh?" Don's attention snapped back, and he blinked his attention off of Splinter's walking stick and onto his father himself.

He was looking at him concerned, and it took Don a few moments to realize that he was on the ground of the dojo area, his brothers also looking concerned. Right. Right, they had been sparring and Splinter had brought his stick up to whack Mikey about something stupid and—

Don looked back at his father, at the concern and love in his gaze, and he immediately felt something stir deep inside him. His breath caught in his throat, and this inexplicable sense of grief welled up in him. For a moment all he wanted to do was hug his father and not let go.

"My son?"

Don shook his head. "Sorry. Guess I'm a little distracted." He started to pick himself up off the floor. "I'm fine."

Splinter frowned. "My son, if you are in need of some time… It has only been two days since you all returned."

Don just shook his head and gave his father a smile. "No, thank you, Sensei, but I'm fine. I promise."

Besides, something felt incredibly important about learning how to defend himself, and Don was going to roll with it.

...

"I don't know, I just feel like some sort of change might be in order."

Don looked over at April from where he was wrists deep in a computer. April was as well, as they were both working on upgrading her computer system.

"Are we talking a big change, or a little one?" Don asked curiously.

April shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just feel like I'm stuck in a rut. I don't want to do something as drastic as, say, moving, or switching careers, but maybe something else. Maybe update my apartment or change up my look."

"Those things could be good," Don said, focusing on the work he was doing while he talked. "Sometimes a change like that is enough to satiate those feelings without doing something extreme."

"That is true," April said. "Maybe I should do something to my hair. I could start styling it differently, or maybe do something like curlers or a light perm."

Don snorted a little. "A perm? I don't know it's hard to picture you with curly hair."

April lightly wacked his shoulder. "Okay then, smart guy, what should I do? Cut it all off?"

Unexpectedly, Don froze. He could clearly picture April with short hair and something about it just seemed wrong. Not like it didn't suit her, but wrong wrong. A feeling of danger and despair welled up in him and squeezed at his heart, and for a brief second, he felt like he couldn't breathe. It echoed the feeling he had in training a few days ago, which just made it all worse.

"Don? Don? Hey, Don, are you alright?"

Don shook his head and blinked back to the moment, pushing those feelings away. "I'm fine," he said.

April frowned at him. "Are you sure? You seemed a little on edge there."

Don just looked at her and shot her a grin. "I guess trying to picture you with short hair made my brain short circuit."

April put her hands on her hips. "Hey! I could rock the look if I wanted to!"

Don snorted again and turned back to the computer. "I'm sure you could, April. But I think you look better with long hair."

...

"And then, Silver Sentry swooped in, and yanked Villainous up! But Villainous wasn't through yet! He had these robots on standby, and they came in—"

Don watched as Mikey told them all about his latest adventure with Silver Sentry, complete with sound effects and hand motions. Don was relieved that Mikey was back to normal with this. Ever since his adventure in a superhero world two weeks ago, Mikey had strayed away from his superhero enthusiasm. But it appeared that it was over, and it was nice to see Mikey feeling better again. Whatever had happened had seemed to reignite his enthusiasm, and his arms were moving around quickly as he described the battle he had witnessed. Don found that he couldn't take his eyes off of them—or more specifically, Mikey's left arm.

He watched as his brother's left arm moved around, going up and down, twisting and turning. He stared at it intently as his brother talked, taking note of how smoothly it moved, of how he seemed to use it with no problems at all, of how it was simply there and existing.

"Uh… Don? Donnie?"

Don blinked. "What?"

Mikey looked back at him, giving him a funny look. "Bro. You, okay? You spaced out there, hard, and you were staring at my arm."

Don looked at him, and then glanced around at the rest of his family, who were looking at him with a measure of concern, too.

"Ah, sorry. I'm fine. I just got lost in thought," Don explained with a smile.

Mikey didn't look like he completely believed him, but he went back to his story anyway. Don tried harder to pay attention this time, even if he kept getting distracted by watching Mikey's left arm.

...

The garage had always been a place of refuge for Don. He enjoyed working in there, banging out ideas and projects, and putting crazy ideas together. There was something satisfying and relaxing about doing this kind of work with your hands, and Don enjoyed it.

He had found, surprisingly, that Casey also enjoyed it, which had actually led to the two of them and Raph enjoying each other's company up in the garage. They'd worked on the Battleshell, the shell cycles, the side cars and more together.

Currently, Don had some repairs to do to the Battleshell that he'd been neglecting. It was really best done with two people. Normally, Don would have gotten Raph to help him with it. However, Splinter was giving Raph some extra lessons. Fortunately for Don, Casey was looking for something to do tonight and had agreed to help the turtle out.

"Geeze, how long's it been since you've checked on this?" Casey asked as he pulled himself out from under the Battleshell.

"Longer than I wanted," Don said with a grimace and he stayed under it and kept working. "I just haven't had the chance."

"Yeah, I feel that. You guys have been busy lately," Casey said. "Especially since that dragon guy sent you guys to all those places two weeks ago. I don't think you've stopped since!"

"Tell me about it," Don said, with a roll of his eyes. "I feel like every day there's something new coming up, or like I need to get things ready in case something comes up. Can you hand me the three-quarter?"

"Sure thing," Casey said. Don felt the tool hit his hand. "You planning on any upgrades to this baby?"

"Oh sure," Don said. "I've always got ideas. The problem is picking out which ones to put into motion."

"Donnie, I think you could probably add all of 'em if ya wanted to," Casey said.

"Nah, that'd be overkill," Don said with a grin.

"Sometimes I don't think there can be overkill for you guys," Casey said. He stood up. "Imma grab a quick drink."

"Sounds good," Don said, continuing to work. "When you finish that, let's try to finish working on this chassis."

Casey made a noise of agreement, and Don took a second to focus on his work. He finally managed to get the stubborn bolt off, something he'd been working on for the past five minutes or so.

"Hey, Casey! I finally got it off!" Don said.

There was no answer.

"Casey?"

Still silence

Don pulled himself out from under the Battleshell and looked around. "Casey?"

There was no answer. There wasn't even a sign of the man. Panic started to grip Don, and he fought it back as best he could, getting up and starting to look around the garage. After all, there was always the chance that for some reason Casey couldn't respond to him. Don pulled out his bo and circled to the other side of the Battleshell. No Casey. He slowly spread out his search parameters, but he couldn't find a trace of the man anywhere.

The panic started to bloom. Casey wasn't here. He wasn't anywhere around. All he had been doing was getting a sip of his drink, and now he was gone. What was this? Was it some sort of new attack? Had someone infiltrated the garage? What had they done to Casey?

"Don?"

Don whirled, his bo at the ready, only to stop when he saw Casey standing there, two drinks and some food in his hands. The man tensed up in response, looking around. "What is it? What's going on?"

"Casey…" Don said, lowering his bo and leaning on it in relief.

Casey slowly lowered his guard and looked at Don, confused. "Don? What's going on? You alright?"

"I'm fine," Don said, trying to calm down. "I thought you disappeared."

"I told ya I was going to get a drink," Casey said, still confused. "Sorry it took me a minute. Mikey sidetracked me and sent some food and a drink for you up with me." He peered at Don. "You sure you're good, man?"

Don sat down on a nearby stool. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I guess I'm just jumpy from everything. I thought you had a drink here and didn't realize that you went down to the lair."

"Oh," Casey said. "Sorry 'bout that."

Don waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I should probably just get more sleep. Hand me a sandwich?"

"Sure thing," Casey said, handing over a drink and a sandwich.

"I finally got that bolt off."

"Really? Geeze, that thing was stuck on tight."

...

"Gah!"

Don's head jerked up from where he had been working, whipping in the direction that Raph's cry had come from. Don immediately abandoned his work, jerking his goggles off of his head as he ran towards it. Raph was on his knees in the dojo, hands pressed over his eye, their father and other brothers already around him.

A burst of panic went through Don, and he doubled his speed. "What happened?!" he asked.

"We—we were just training and—and it went towards his eye! I don't—I—" Mikey sounded panicked, and it fueled Don's own panic.

"Move!" he demanded of his family, practically shoving them out of the way to get to Raph's side. Raph still had his hands covering his left eye. "Raph, move your hands." Raph didn't and let out a grunt of pain. Don felt his panic rising. "Raphael, move your hands!"

Don didn't often raise his voice, and especially not in situations where a calm disposition would be better. But this time he did, and it was enough to startle his family into compliance, for the most part. Don reached up and tugged Raph's hands away. There was blood. In the eye, around the eye, and Don couldn't see all of the damage.

He felt his panic rising. Raph could lose this eye. If the damage was bad enough, then Raph could—would—lose his eye. What would that mean for him? What would happen to him? If Raph lost his eye, that would change everything.

"Don? Don!" Leo's voice broke through his panic. "How bad is it?"

Don swallowed. "I can't tell yet. Mikey, go get my bag. Make sure to get my penlight. Leo, warm water and a soft cloth. Sensei, just stay with him and help keep him still and calm. Raph, don't move."

They moved to do what he said, but Leo hesitated. "Don? Can you handle this?"

"I'm fine, Leo," Don said, his voice tight. "Just get me what I need."

Fortunately, the injury itself wasn't that bad. The throwing star had actually cut Raph's eyelid, just barely above the eyeball itself. A loose sliver of metal from it had fallen into Raph's eye. None of it was permanently damaging and all of it would heal. A little eyelid glue and a magnet took care of the problems, much to everyone's relief. Don felt drained by the experience, which was odd, considering that looking back at it, it wasn't as big of a deal as it had felt at the time. But maybe it was just all of the stress from being scattered three weeks ago, Bishop's cloning adventure, and everything else that was building up.

...

When Don built his vehicles, he usually built the really sturdy. He had no idea what they were going to do in them, or how much punishment they would take. But one he built a bit hardier than the other was the Tunneler. The Tunneler was built to go underground, to withstand all sorts of hostile environments and terrain. He built the thing to withstand lava, even if it wasn't forever. The Tunneler was a very hardy vehicle.

But even hardy vehicles needed maintenance. So, every so often, Don would go over all of his vehicles to see how they were doing. He'd been working on this for the past month. For some reason, he'd been avoiding the Tunneler, but it was the only one left. It had been like a looming presence this whole time, but it was time to face it.

Don had all of the tools he needed, as well as the cleaning supplies, and he walked closer to the Tunneler. Each step, though, seemed harder than the last, and a sense of dread seemed to fill him the closer he got. He felt like a weight was being pressed into his chest, as if something about this was foreboding. He paused, staring up at it.

Anxiety seemed to grip him, and he couldn't understand why. It was just the Tunneler. It was just routine maintenance. It was just something he'd done several times before. But the anxiety was growing, and he didn't know why, couldn't understand why, wouldn't understand why, and it was all he could do to stay grounded even the small amount that he was.

"Donnie? You alright, bro?"

The moment was broken, and Don could feel it. The anxiety was still there, but the overwhelming feeling of it was starting to fade. He looked back at Raph. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said.

Raph eyed him like he didn't quite believe him, but he nodded anyway. "Need some help with this thing?"

Don looked at his brother. "Well, your eye should be nearly healed up, so as long as you're careful, sure."

Raph clapped Don on the shoulder. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Start with the engine. I'll start on the electrical systems."

"Got it."

Having Raph there helped, but the feeling of foreboding never quite went away.

...

The Foot were up to something. That much was obvious. What was just as obvious was the fact that they needed to do something about it. Of course, that meant that they needed to figure out just what the Foot was up to. And that meant a mission.

The mission was supposed to be simple. Observe. Investigate. Regroup. But nothing ever went simple for them. They had gotten noticed, and a fight had ensued.

"Fall back!" Leo ordered. "We're not fighting this fight today!"

None of them objected. There were too many Foot, and they hadn't come prepared for a big fight. Unfortunately, the Foot were not as eager to let them go, and while Leo was in the middle of giving his order, a Foot soldier threw something that exploded right in front of Leo's face.

Leo cried out, a hand coming up towards his eyes, and Don felt panic rise in him.

"Leo!" Mikey called out.

Raph was suddenly between Leo and the Foot Ninja that was trying to take a swipe at their brother.

"Don, get Leo!" Raph yelled out. "Mikey, make us a way out of here!"

"On it!" Mikey said.

"R-Right!" Don rushed towards Leo, reaching out for his brother that was rubbing at his eyes. "Come on, Leo, this way," he said, helping him up.

"Donnie?" Leo said. "Don, Don I can't see."

A cold terror flowed through Don, but he shoved it to the side in favor of helping his brother. "Okay, Leo, just—it'll be okay. It will be. Just follow me."

Don led Leo out of the fighting, through the way that Mikey made for them, Raph guarding their rear. They managed to get back to the Battleshell, Mikey driving them home while Don looked Leo over. As far as he could tell, it looked like it was maybe a simple flash bomb, but he refused to say anything definitive until he had Leo back home where he could look at his eyes more properly. Fortunately, that seemed to confirm that it was just the damage from a flash bomb and was more than likely temporary.

Still, that "more than likely" ate at Don, and he insisted on being nearby while they waited to see if Leo's eyesight would return. At some point, he tuned out Raph's similar story, Mikey's outlandish suggestions, and Splinter's words of wisdom. Instead, a sense of dread consumed him, and his thoughts started spiraling.

What if this was permanent? What if it didn't go away? What would this mean for Leo? Being a ninja was everything to him. Sure, he could still fight, Don was sure, but it would be such a huge adjustment. Would he be able to do it well? What if something happened while he was getting used to things again? Would he blame himself? Become bitter? What would the consequences of this be?

"Don? Donnie."

"Huh?" Leo's voice brought Don out of his thoughts, and he abruptly realized that he was the only one left in the room with Leo.

Leo frowned. "I said you can just leave me here for now. I'm going to listen to the TV, and I'll call if I need help." His frown deepened. "You alright, Don?"

"I'm fine," Don said. "Sorry, this has just got me worried. First the scare with Raph's eye, and now this for you—it's a little too close together, I guess."

Leo gave him a smile. "Yeah, I understand that. This past month has been crazy. Why don't you come sit next to me? That way if anything changes, I can tell you right away."

"You're patronizing me," Don said, but he came and sat next to Leo anyway.

"Is it working?" Leo teased.

Don laughed lightly. "Maybe a little."

The dread didn't go away, though, until Leo's eyesight fully came back.

...

Nightmares weren't an uncommon occurrence in this household. They all had them, although what, exactly, featured in them varied from person to person. Mikey's usually featured something happening to their family. Raph's were usually about him not being able to protect or, worse, hurting his family. The Triceritons featured quite a bit in Don's own nightmares. It was no secret that Shredder haunted all of their dreams, but that he haunted Leo's worst of all.

Now that Splinter had been given a vision to stop Shredder once and for all, it was no surprise that the nightmares of Shredder had increased. It also wasn't a surprise that the brothers found themselves all together in the living room, even though they were supposed to be sleeping.

"Bad dream?" Raph said, directing his question at Leo.

Leo always had a particular look about him after a nightmare, especially if it was one from when the Shredder nearly killed him.

"Yeah," he said, clutching one of the throw pillows to him. "It was the Shredder."

Mikey pulled Klunk into his lap. "Yeah. He was in mine too," he said, curling around his cat.

"I hadn't even made it that far yet," Raph said.

Don shook his head. "I wasn't asleep, either."

"No offense, Donnie, but that's no surprise," Mikey said.

"I hate to say it, but Mikey's got a point," Raph said. "You ain't been sleeping much for the past five weeks.

"I was working on things!" Don defended himself.

"What do you think he's planning?" Leo said, bringing the conversation back around. "The Shredder, I mean."

"Master Splinter saw Master Yoshi, right? And he was in a Guardian uniform, and then Splinter was wearing the uniform," Raph said. "The Guardians guarded the Utroms. So maybe it's something to do with the Utroms."

Something about that made Don deeply uncomfortable, and he didn't know why.

"He's been stealing things from Triceriton spaceships, too," Mike said. "Maybe he's trying to go back to space?"

"Or maybe he's trying to go back to the Utrom home world," Leo said. He looked over at Don. "Do you think that's possible?"

"Definitely," Don said without even hesitating. Dread started to creep its way up his throat. "If he had enough materials, he has the know-how, as do Stockman and Chaplin, I'm sure. He could leave here, go back to the Utrom home world or gather allies. If he conquered the Utroms, then with their technology…"

Don's breath hitched as the possibilities spun around in his mind. Utrom technology used against the universe. Utrom slaves. Conquering other planets. Conquering Earth. The death, destruction, and desolation that would come with that. He could picture it so, so clearly, practically taste it, hear it, smell it.

"Don? Don!"

Don's eyes jerked up. Mikey's hand was on his shoulder, and all of his brothers were looking at him with concern.

"You okay?" Mikey asked him.

Don nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine," he said, although it didn't sound as convincing as he would have liked. "It's just—thinking about what all could happen if the Shredder gets what he wants is… chilling."

"It is," Leo agreed. "And that's why we have to stop him."

A horrible sense of foreboding filled Don, but he just nodded along with his brothers.

...

Knowing that the Shredder was planning something and knowing what that plan was were two different things. They needed to know what the plan was, and if they disrupted it a little along the way, well, all the better. Which is how they found themselves facing down the Karai Legionnaires again.

The robots were tough, and a few of their weaknesses had been bled out of them, making this fight even harder. Don's brothers had been fighting hard so that Don would have the time to get the information off of the computers that he needed—and to install a virus—and Don was hurrying as fast as he could. The Legionaries had brought a much bigger sense of urgency and danger to this recon mission, and Don was more than anxious to pull his flash drive from the computer. When it was finally finished, he yanked it from the computer and whirled, bo in hand, to rejoin the fight.

Leo and Raph seemed to be holding their own against some Foot soldiers. Mike was separate from them, though, and it took Don a second to find him. His heart nearly stopped when he did. A couple of Legionnaires were closing in on Mikey, and all that went through Don's brain was No, not again!

Without even thinking about it, a desperation and a rage overtook Don, and he raced to Mikey's side. He came down hard on one of the bots with a yell, hard enough to break his bo staff, but also to cause damage to the bot's shoulder. It tried to whirl on him, but Don was having none of it. He picked up a fallen sword and jammed it into the damaged shoulder, putting all of his considerable strength into using the sword to tear the damaged arm off of the body of the bot. The sword went through, and the arm clanked to the ground, its weapon falling with it. Don stabbed the bot in the stomach, and then bent to pick up the naginata that it had dropped. Without a moment's hesitation, he turned the blade on the bot and used it to slice it to pieces.

He immediately whirled on the one that was closing in on Mikey, throwing the naginata at it like a spear, and impacting it enough to send it flying back into a wall. Don scooped up a blaster that had fallen to the ground, and immediately turned it on the third bot, blasting it to pieces before turning back to the one he had thrown the naginata at before. He ruthlessly yanked it out of the bot, and then proceeded to stab it to death as well.

"You can't have my brother!" he yelled. "Stay away from him! Stay away!"

"Whoa—Don, Donnie! Donatello! Don! Don calm down!"

Breathing hard, Don stepped away from the mutilated bot, and turned to look at his brothers. They were all there, all with their guards slightly down, but Don only had eyes for one right now. "Mikey," he breathed out, and then practically fell on his brother.

"Dude, Don, are you okay?" Mikey asked as he held up his brother. "The last time you hugged me like this was five weeks ago."

"I'm fine," he said, a roughness in his voice. "I'm fine."

"I kinda think you're the opposite of that, but okay," Mikey said, giving Don's shell pats.

"Come on, let's figure this out later," Leo said. "We need to get out of here while the going is good."

Don nodded, and they all moved forward, leaving the mutilated bots behind.

...

"I thought you said this place was abandoned!"

"It was supposed to be!"

Don looked around. This was not what was supposed to happen. This was just supposed to be a training run. But they had stumbled onto a Foot operation, and, true to form, a fight had broken out.

"Donnie! Figure out what's going on here!" Leo said.

"Right!" Don sheathed his bo and turned, heading back towards the computers he had seen earlier. If he could get on them, then maybe, just maybe, he could figure out what was going on. He was climbing the stairs to the platform when two figures made themselves known.

"Well, well, well. Donatello." Stockman's pod appeared, the eyeball in it peering down.

Don froze.

"Don't be impolite, Hun. Say hello."

Hun smirked down at Don. "Greetings, Donatello," he said with a smirk.

Don's mind blanked.

Suddenly it wasn't Stockman and Hun separate anymore, but an amalgamation of them in a wheelchair. Suddenly it wasn't a random Foot warehouse they were fighting in, but it was the Shredder's throne room. Suddenly it wasn't Foot Ninja that his brothers were fighting, but Karai and Legionnaires, and they were losing, and they were dying, and it was his fault—and there was nothing that he could do about it.

"Don? Donnie!"

Almost as if he were watching it through someone else's eyes, Don saw Raph appear and block a blow that had been coming at him.

"Donnie! Snap out of it! Donnie!"

Don couldn't snap out of it. He couldn't break free. All he could see was Raph dying again, and he was powerless to stop it.

"Shell—Leo! Something's wrong with Donnie!"

"What?"

"I don't know!"

Raph was suddenly gone from his sight, and all he could see was Hun coming after him, Stockman peering over his shoulder—or maybe attached to it, Don couldn't tell anymore. Hun's hand reached out and grabbed Don, picking him up by the neck and shoulders, and Don instinctively scrambled for a hold that would take the pressure off of his neck. Hun squeezed, and the pressure increased.

Suddenly, there was a yell, and Hun dropped him, holding his bleeding arm. Leo was in front of Don, and Don watched everything as if in a daze. Arms went around him, and he heard Mikey's voice saying something, but Don wasn't sure what. Everything was a confusing jumble as Don was hoisted up and practically carried out by his brothers. Through the warehouse, out to the streets, down into the manhole cover, and into the sewers. Very little of the trip registered with him. It was only when he was sitting on the couch, Master Splinter looking into his eyes, that Don began to comprehend what was happening around him again.

"M…Master Splinter?"

"Donatello? Are you back with us, my son?"

Back with them? Don blinked, trying to understand what was going on. He was home. His family was staring at him. His face was wet. That didn't explain much. It didn't explain anything. It certainly didn't explain the images, the sensations he was reliving.

Reliving… Don's breath hitched. He couldn't tell them. There was no way that he could tell them. What would they think? What would they say? Don had killed them. He had killed them! He had disappeared and failed and the worst had happened. There was no way he could tell them what he had lived through.

But as Don looked at Splinter's worried eyes, the compassion, the love, and the concern in them, he broke. Don crumbled, curling in on himself as the sobs started. He felt more than saw his brothers closing ranks around him, trying to comfort him. He felt his father's arms as Splinter coaxed him to uncurl and drew Don's head to his shoulder.

Don wasn't sure how much time had passed before the tears, sobs, wails, and apologies finally slowed, but they did, eventually. His family pulled back a little, just enough to give him space to think, clearly concerned.

"Donatello, my son, what happened?" Splinter asked. "What has gotten you into this state."

Don wiped his eyes with a shaking hand. "I…" he started, trying to put what had happened into words. "I… I think…" he paused and looked up at his family. "…I'm not fine."

His family drew closer around him as, six weeks later, Don finally explained where he had gone and what he had done when he was sent away by Draco and the Daimyo's son. By the time he was finished explaining, broken and piecemeal that it was, Don was exhausted on every level. But his family was here. His family was around him, and although the memories were heavy, it still felt like something had been lifted from him.

Don wasn't fine. He wasn't going to be fine for a while. He had repressed what had happened, not able to face what he did, but it had still made itself known in little ways, until, finally, it had forced its way out completely. But here, with his family, his suffering could finally come out and be dealt with—and his family would be with him every step of the way.