I Tend to Deflect When I'm Feeling Threatened

by RealityBreakGirl

"So, my purpose is most likely bait. I assume you're not leaving me in good condition," Don said. "I'm glad to see we're on the same page," Hun said. "It's simple. All I want is information." Don's eyes narrowed. "We all know I'm not going to tell you." Hun's smirk grew. "I've recently taken an interest in various torture devices. Let's try some out." Whumptober 2023, Day 18

Title: I Tend to Deflect When I'm Feeling Threatened
Day: Whumptober 2023, Day 18
Prompt: "I tend to deflect when I'm feeling threatened" Blindfolded/Tortured for Information/ "Hit them harder"
Fandom: TMNT 2003
Word Count: 5921
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: M
Characters: Donatello
Warning: Torture
Summary: "So then, my purpose is most likely bait, although I would assume that you're not going to simply leave me in good condition," Don said.
"I'm glad to see we're on the same page," Hun said as he came back around. "It's simple. All I want from you is some information."
Don's eyes narrowed. "I think we all know that I'm not going to tell you that."
Hun's smirk grew. "Oh, I know." He reached towards the cart, picking up a blade. "I've recently taken an interest in various torture devices." He turned the blade over in his hand. "I've not had too much experience in them yet, but I am looking forward to trying them out."
Notes: I barely proofread this. Let's hope it's good :)

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I Tend to Deflect When I'm Feeling Threatened

Well, this was not how Don had expected his day to go. He hadn't had any particular plan in mind, but getting kidnapped by the Purple Dragons was not part of it, regardless. He was never going to live this down once his brothers found out. Of course, in his defense, these Purple Dragons were a lot tougher than the ones they used to face down. Hun had given them quite the boost after the Shredder was gone, and they were definitely more of a threat now. Not to mention, Triceriton tasers did quite a number on anyone. Don should know. This wasn't his first encounter with them.

None of that, though, helped his current situation. He wasn't exactly sure where he was, but it seemed to be a commercial building, at least in construction. The room he was in was the size of a small meeting room, with no windows, except for the one in the singular door. The door was a fairly standard building door. Probably a metal door, most likely hollow inside, with a long rectangular window in it, and a parallel door closer at the top. That would make it harder to break into the room or to vandalize. The room was well lit, with standard lighting, and the walls were the basic, default white. All in all, it was a fairly standard, nondescript room.

Except for one thing. Running parallel to the door, going across the ceiling, was a very strong, very sturdy metal beam. Attached to it were some chains with cuffs—cuffs that were around Don's wrists. They were fairly heavy-duty chains, too, attached securely. Don had already tried pulling on them, although it did nothing. Fortunately, the chains were long enough that he could reach the ground and stand, although sitting was out of the question. Peering at them, it looked as if the chains were adjustable for various heights, which was a possible weakness that Don might could exploit.

Don was also suspicious that the metal loops that seemed to be anchored into the floor were another form of restraint that he hadn't experienced yet. And he did have the feeling it was "yet." There were already unconnected shackles on his feet, and Don was pretty sure that those loops were for hooking those shackles to.

So. That was the state of the room. There wasn't much to use, especially since he had also been stripped of his gear. No bo, no bag, no shellcell, no belt, no wraps, no mask. He wondered if the tracker that he had placed on his shell was still there. If it was, then there was still a chance that his brothers could find him without too much fuss. Well, provided that the signal wasn't blocked. But if they used the tracking program, then they would be able to trace him to the last place the signal was, if nothing else.

Don wasn't sure how long he had been in this room. He had been unconscious for part of the time, so there was no telling how long he had been gone. Chances were, it was long enough for his brothers to notice, but if he was seconds away from rescue or days was not something that Don knew. So, although he had very little at his disposal, Don needed to be alert for any way to escape.

Since the room was mostly out of his reach, Don started with what was. The ankle shackles were the easiest thing to examine. He brought a foot up to his face, doing his best to look at the shackle. He could only see so many angles of it, but he was able to see most of the shackles by switching up which ankle he was look at. They seemed to be made of titanium, with a fairly standard lock. It was something he'd be able to pick, if he had the tools. At the moment, there was no getting those off.

From there, he examined his wrist shackles. He had to grasp the chains and lift himself up to where he could see the cuffs, as his hands were above his head, but that was doable. Again, they seemed to be made out of titanium, with a simple lock. The difference here was that they were attached to very strong chains. Don lowered himself back down to stand and gave another experimental tug at the chains. They seemed pretty strong and anchored fairly well.

The anchor was another interesting thing to look at. It was on the ceiling, but, again, that was something he could look at, with a little maneuvering. Don grasped the chains in his hands again, and pulled, bringing himself up off the floor like a gymnast pulling himself up. He moved himself up on the chains, alternating his grip until he was able to create a loop in the chains for his feet to rest in, and raised himself up to examine how the chains were anchored into the beam. The chains seemed to feed through a mechanism that could raise or lower the chains at need, but with a very strong locking mechanism. Small wires—control wires? —ran to the mechanism. It would be hard to break, although not hard to jam. Then again, jamming it wouldn't do him much good.

While he was up there, he examined the beam. It was a very strong beam, anchored well into the ceiling. If Don had to guess, it was built right in with the construction of the building, not added later. That was a bit disturbing as it indicated that whatever was going to happen in here was something that Hun had anticipated doing.

Don stayed there for a moment, letting the blood flow into his hands now that his heart was higher than them, and contemplated his situation. He had very few options available to him. Most of them boiled down to "wait and see," which was not his preferred choice, but that was all he really had available to him at the moment. However, having this knowledge? It might come in handy, depending on what opportunities presented themselves.

Don lowered himself back down and sighed. Looks like it was a waiting game at the moment.

Don kept his mind occupied by running over possible escape options and what would be required, from the absurd to the likely. He still had no idea what time it was, but his internal clock had been keeping track of time for as long as he'd been awake, and it was at least a couple of hours before he saw movement outside the door. He could see Hun through the window, unlocking the door, which was something that Don made mental note of. He watched as the big man came in, another Dragon coming in with him.

Hun smirked at him. "Well. Donatello. It was surprisingly easy to get my hands on you."

Don hummed. "Should I feel insulted by that or honored that you were coming after me?" he asked.

Hun's eyes narrowed a little. "Oh, any of you would have done. But I have to admit, having you is a boon."

"I'll make sure to let my brothers know that you have a ranking for us," Don said. "I'm assuming that, with this set up, you have a reason for me being here aside from just capture."

"Very astute," Hun said, starting to circle Don. "Getting rid of you turtles is my ultimate goal. But it's not as easy as just killing you."

"Glad to know we still present a challenge," Don said, keeping an eye on the man, or at least on his shadow, when he went behind him. "Since I'm not dead, I'm also assuming that this is about more that demoralizing my family."

"Correct," Hun said. "If I wanted to do that, I would have simply killed you and left your tagged body for your brothers to find."

"So then, my purpose is most likely bait, although I would assume that you're not going to simply leave me in good condition," Don said.

"I'm glad to see we're on the same page," Hun said as he came back around.

"So, what is it, exactly, that you want from me?" Don said. "Aside from physical harm."

Hun knocked on the door, and it opened, a rolling cart being pushed in by another Dragon. "It's simple. All I want from you is some information."

Don eyed the cart. There were a lot of tools on it that Don had an unfortunate feeling he was about to experience the use of. "What kind of information?"

"Information on your family, on your strengths, your weaknesses, passcodes and passwords. Anything that will help me to take out your family," Hun said.

Don's eyes narrowed. "I think we all know that I'm not going to tell you that."

Hun's smirk grew. "Oh, I know," he said. "That's why I've brought some incentives." He reached towards the cart, picking up a blade. "I've recently taken an interest in various torture devices." He turned the blade over in his hand. "I've not had too much experience in them yet, but I am looking forward to trying them out."

Don knew a threat when he heard one, and he set his jaw. "From my understanding, it's better to know what you're doing before you use something that could possibly kill your test subject."

Hun grinned. "I prefer a more hands-on type of learning."

He gestured to the two Dragons in the room, and they moved forward to, Don assumed, shackle his feet to the ground. Don let them get close, and then he lashed out. He jumped, grabbing the chains in his hands and lashing out with his legs. He kicked one of the Dragons in the face, and felt the Dragon's nose break, sending him falling back. He quickly wrapped his legs around the neck of the other, tightening them. He let go of the chains with one hand, and raised the Dragon up, reaching for the piercings that were on the Dragon. If he could get one, then he might be able to pick the locks. He ripped one out of the Dragon's ear, and tightened his legs around the Dragon's neck, cutting off his oxygen.

But before he could do more, electricity ran through him, coming from the chains. Don jerked and cried out, the shock lasting a few seconds before it released. Don fell, limp, his weight jerking on his arms, especially on his right one, as he fell. The Dragon felt, too, coughing and sputtering as he tried to get air back in his lungs. The piercing slipped from Don's hand, taking the only tool he had managed to get away from him. Don shook his head, trying to get his brain back in working order.

The door opened, and two more Dragon's came in, grabbing his ankles and running chains through the shackles, attaching them to the loops in the floor.

"How do you like it?" Hun asked, tossing a remote up and down in his hand. "I've had those wired with electricity for exactly this reason."

Don looked up at Hun. "Innovative," he grit out.

Hun smirked and looked at the Dragons who were now picking themselves up off of the ground. He gestured with his chin at Don. "Why don't you two soften him up," he said.

The two Dragons glared at Don, and he could read that anger and desire for revenge in their eyes. This was not going to go well for him. The one whose nose he broke didn't waste any time and hit him hard in the snout. Don had no way to defend himself, but there was just enough give in the chains that it let him rock back a little. His eyes automatically watered, and the Dragon grinned when he saw it. The other Dragon hit him in the head from the other side, rocking him in that direction. With grins on their faces, the two Dragons worked Don over, not sparing anything but his plastron and shell, probably more to spare their own hands and feet than for any mercy on Don.

By the time Hun called them off, Don was already in pain, snout bleeding, knee out of joint, and sides bruised, and definitely bleeding from more than a few cuts.

"How are you feeling, Donatello?" Hun asked.

"Been through worse," Don said, doing his best to straighten up. He could still stand, and so he would. "You'd think after all these years, your guys would know how to hurt a turtle better."

Hun reached down and picked up a blindfold. "Oh, don't worry. I'll turn this into a lesson for them, too."

Hun approached him, and Don instinctively pulled back, but there wasn't enough give for him to go far. Hun forcefully tied the blindfold on him, pulling it tight. It was a thick cloth, heavy, and Don couldn't see anything through it. It was, he knew, an intimidation method. When it came to torture, the anticipation of it was usually considered the worst part. The blindfold was meant to increase that, and Don knew it. Unfortunately, there was some truth to it, even if he wasn't going to give into it.

"Let's see what we're going to start with," Hun said. Don could hear a few tools moving around. "I've been wanting to try these." Don could hear Hun's footsteps move closer, in measured, heavy steps. Don could sense him coming up beside him, felt his grip hover over his hand. "Ah, you do have fingernails."

Don balled his hand up. "I see you're going for the intimidation factor," Don said. "The limited movement, the blindfold, the rattling of tools, the practiced steps, the pauses, the hints at what you're about to do. Very dramatic, Hun. I didn't know you had a flare for drama, although I should have expected it, given who you used to serve, and his flare for it."

Don suddenly found his head ringing as he was backhanded.

"Shut up, turtle," Hun said, grabbing Don's hand and forcibly uncurling it.

"Sorry," Don said, spitting out a blob of blood and grinning. "I tend to deflect when I'm feeling threatened. Analysis is a good way to do that."

Don could feel more than hear the growl that went through Hun, and then he felt something dig under his nail—something he recognized as pliers.

"Where is your base?" Hun demanded.

Don pressed his lips closed.

Hun pulled, and Don sucked in a breath, as he felt his nail pulled from its bed. It hurt, but it wasn't the worst pain Don had felt. He could make it through.

"Where is your base?" Hun asked again.

Again, Don didn't answer, and again, Hun pulled a nail out. Don didn't know if he should count it as a blessing or a curse that, if you counted his feet, he only had ten nails total. It was less of this pain than a human would have, but it also meant that he would move on to something else quicker.

Three nails down, and Hun let go of his hand and backed away. Don heard the pliers hit the top of the cart.

"Switching tools?" Don said, hearing the pain in his voice. "Guess the anticipation wore off."

"You're mouthier than I expected," Hun said. "Let's see if I can get anything useful from that."

Don snorted, but he kept his ears alert. He heard the rattling of the tools, and then something being picked up.

"Blades are too simple," he said. "You're already used to those. I need something else. Something… different."

Well, that didn't sound good. Hun started back towards Don. He could smell something different. "Why don't we try a different question. Tell me the frequency that you use for your defenses."

Don pressed his lips together.

Hun moved, and he felt heat near the underside of his arm. "The frequency," the man demanded.

Don didn't reply again, and he felt the heat move in, Don jerked, letting out a strangled cry of pain as the hot instrument was pressed against his upper arm and slowly drug down, burning a path as it did. Hun let up, and Don sagged in relief. It was short lived, though, as Hun again questioned him, applying the hot tool every time Don refused to answer. His underarm, his thighs, his knee, his side, the base of his neck, were burned, and Hun even forced Don's other hand closed around the burning tool at one point.

Don took a moment to catch his breath as Hun backed off. He heard the heated tool be put down, but he didn't hear anything else being picked up. He did, however, hear Hun walk back towards him.

"You know," the bigger man said. "I've been avoiding your shell because your skin is easier to inflict damage on. But I have to wonder," he knocked on Don's plastron, and then his shell. "Just how hard are they?"

That… did not sound good. In fact, that sounded very, very bad. "Somehow," Don panted out. "I don't think there's a good way for me to respond to that."

He could practically hear the smile in Hun's voice. "You're right. There isn't." The big man moved away again, back towards the cart. "I've been wanting to try this out anyway. This seems like a good time to test it."

Don heard something be pulled out, although it didn't sound metal. He only had a second to wonder what it was, before there was a crack and he cried out as his leg was whipped.

"I've had some experience with whips, although not a lot," Hun said. "Let's see how I do with this one. Now, tell me turtle—how do I find your home?"

Don shook his head, and the whip lashed out, this time catching him on his shell. It stung, but it didn't hurt as badly as it did on his leg.

"What kind of defenses do you have in place?"

Don said nothing. The whip cracked again, this time wrapping so that the edge of it caught his face.

"Where is your home located?"

Again, Don kept his silence. The whip wrapped around him, catching his plastron. It hurt more than his shell, but less than his skin.

"How do you access your computer systems?"

This time, the whip caught the edge of his shell, and Don heard a crackling noise. Apparently, something caught Hun's attention too, because the whipping stopped, even as the man moved closer.

"What was this?" he said, and Don belatedly realized that the whip must have caught the tracker he had on under the lip of his shell. "A tracer!" Hun growled out. His voice moved slightly, like he was looking back over his shoulder. "Get everyone on high alert! If they can trace him here, then they'll come."

Don suddenly felt Hun's meaty hand around his neck.

"You. You were just biding your time, weren't you? Waiting until your brothers came for you."

Don gave him a crooked grin. "Maybe," he managed to get out.

Hun growled and let go of his neck. The next thing he knew was pain as Hun punched him in the face.

"Hit him harder, Master!" one of the Dragons called out.

"No," Hun said, anger in his voice. "I have a better idea."

Don hung there, limply, as he tried to get his bearings again. He heard Hun stomp over to the cart, the whip angrily hitting the ground. Something else—something else not metal—was pulled out, and Don could hear Hun whirl towards him.

"Let's forget the questioning," he said. "And see how your shell holds up to this."

At the word "this" Don could hear movement. Before he could even register that, though, there was a crack, and then something landed hard on his shell, multiple points digging into it and then ripping out. Don cried out in pain. He didn't even have time to recover, before there was another crack, and the whip with its multiple points of contact was wrapping around him to dig into his plastron. That hurt worse than his shell, actually managing to dig a little deeper. He heard Hun move, and the whip came at him from another angle, once again hitting his shell.

Again, and again the man hit him with the whip. It didn't always get shell or plastron. Sometimes his hit skin, and he could feel it pulling the skin away when it was pulled back. The worst was when it got stuck in his side, and Don was certain that something broke off in the wound left behind. By the time the man's anger was spent, Don was hanging exhausted and bloodied in his shackles, not even able to support himself.

He heard the whip get thrown across the room, clattering into the wall. Something else was pulled from the cart, and then, suddenly, Hun was right there. He grabbed Donatello with a hand under his jaw and pulled the turtle upright. Whatever Hun had in his hand was hot, Don could tell that much, but it wasn't the same as the thing before.

"When this is over," Hun said, laying a hot blade just below Don's jawline and bringing it down, starting to skin part of his neck. "I'm going to fillet you and your brothers."

He pulled back before he could hit anything vital, but Don could barely feel grateful for that though the pain.

"One last thing," Hun said, and he brought the hilt of the heated blade down on Don's already burned hand.

Don yelped as he felt his hand break, and Hun, apparently satisfied, walked away. Don was breathing hard through the pain, but that didn't mean that he wasn't paying attention. He heard the blade get tossed down.

"Release his feet and then haul him up so he's hanging. If his brothers get this far, I want them to see the damage."

"Yes, Master Hun."

Don felt the Dragons cautiously move in and undo the chains holding his feet down. Then, with a whir, he felt himself be hoisted up, all of his weight being put on his wrists. He groaned in pain, but the Dragons just snickered, and Don heard them move out of the door, it closing and locking behind them.

For a moment, Don didn't do anything but just hang there. The pain was immense, especially where it felt like something had broken off in his side, but he wasn't ready to just give into it yet. He had to do something. He couldn't just wait here.

A thought occurred to him and, although it was going to be very difficult, it was better than nothing. Don listened for movement from the door, but he couldn't hear anything out there. Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, Don steeled himself. All of this was going to hurt.

Using what he could of his core muscles, he swung a little, just enough that he could give himself some momentum before he used his core muscles to give himself a small boost, enough that he could wrap his least damaged hand around the chain. It wasn't a good grip, but it would do for the moment. He used that grip to painfully wrap his broken hand around its chain, and then used that better grip to maneuver his less injured hand to a better grip. Bit by bit he pulled himself up higher and higher like that, until he was in the position he had been in earlier, when he had looked at the way the chains were attached to the beam.

This next part was going to be very hard. The piece that was in him was on his right side. He would need to use his right hand to get it out. That would mean putting all of his weight on his left hand—his broken hand. But there was no choice in the matter. Steeling himself, Don released his right hand, grunting in pain as the weight moved to his left. Trying his best to ignore that and to keep his grip, Don ripped off his blindfold, and then dug around in his side. It took him a moment to find the object, but when he did, he pulled out a spike about an inch long. He grimaced. No wonder it had hurt so badly.

He put the spike between his teeth and, for just a moment, grabbed at the chains with his right hand again. It relieved some of the strain from his left, but Don could tell he wasn't going to last long like this, no matter which hand he was using. Once again steeling himself for what was coming, he let go with his right hand, and took the spike from his mouth. As predicted, it didn't take him long to pick the lock on the cuff. The cuff fell away, which also took away the loop Don had been "standing" in. Now all of his weight was squarely on his broken hand.

Fighting the urge to let go as that pulled more and more on his broken bones. Don put the spike back in his mouth and reached back over to grab the chain with his right hand. He let go with his left, and immediately felt a throbbing, pulsing pain run through it. Still, he only had so much time. He couldn't stop now. Don pulled the spike from his teeth with clumsy fingers and began picking the lock on the right cuff. It was harder, as his broken fingers didn't want to obey, but eventually he got it. He put the spike back in his mouth, and lowered himself to the ground, pretty much falling the last foot.

His left knee crumpled under him as he landed, an injury from the beatdown at the beginning of the torture session. For a moment he lay there, trying to catch his breath. The cart of tools was still in the room, as were the two whips. Don could see what had dug into him, and he grimaced, not sure he wanted to know what his shell looked like. He was pretty sure he looked bad, given the puddle of blood he was currently lying in.

Still, Don wasn't going to just give up. Painfully he drug himself to his feet. He headed for the whips first, knowing he was going to need something to help him hold the weapons he was about to steal. He managed to wrap the first, less painful one around him like a belt, and then he made his way to the cart. Don pulled out anything he thought could be useful and that he could carry, and then he made his way to the door.

No one seemed to be outside of it, which Don found troubling. He picked the lock, and carefully put his head outside of the door. No one was there. But there was a long hallway with a door at the end, and Don bet that there were guards outside of it. Don sank down to sit on the floor. He wasn't in any shape for a fight. He was barely in any shape for an escape. He had to figure another way out of here.

And then the alarms went off. Don sucked in a breath, certain, for a moment, that they were for him. But a voice came over some sort of PA system, directing Dragons to go to their assigned stations, and Don realized that the alarm wasn't because he escaped, it was because someone was breaking in.

It was mostly likely his brothers. Don pushed himself to his feet, although it was more than a little difficult. Limping towards the door at the end of the hallway, holding onto the wall for support, Don made his way. The door, he found, wasn't locked, as they, apparently, didn't expect anyone to break out. Stupid move on Hun's part, unless it was part of a plan.

Don could see the shadows of two individuals on the other side. Taking a deep breath, he thrust the door open, slamming it into one of the men on the other side. The other one he wasted no time on, taking the knife he had stolen and stabbing the man. He got lucky, and it went between the ribs, tearing into the man's lung. He went down, as Don pulled the knife out.

Unfortunately, Don wasn't as capable as he normally was, and the door trick had only addled the man on the other side of it. He came back before Don could react, catching Don in the shoulder and sending him to the ground. Don cried out in pain and surprise, only barely managing to roll out of the way of another attack. He scrambled back as best he could, but the third attack caught his injured knee, and Don let out a yell as he heard something in it pop. A fourth strike came down, catching his shell, and Don yelled in pain as it felt like something cracked.

Footsteps came from around the corner, and Don knew he wouldn't last through an assault. But instead of more people beating on him, there was a roar he recognized and a thud as the Dragon above him was taken out. Frantic hands came to him, and Don hissed as they hit wounds.

"Donnie!"

Don looked up, his vision wavering, but he managed to make out Mikey looking down at him. "…Mikey…"

"Oh shell, oh shell, oh, Donnie, oh shell, Leo! Leo, Don's hurt bad!"

There were more footsteps, and suddenly Leo and Raph joined Mikey. Don tried to smile at them, but mostly he groaned in pain.

"We've got to get him out of here," Leo said. "Raph, carry him. I'll clear a path. Mikey, bring up the rear."

His brother's nodded, and Leo took a second to lay a hand on Don's forehead. "We'll get you out of here, Donnie. Just hang on."

"I'd really like to leave," Don agreed.

Leo smiled at him. "I know. Now hold on. We've got to get you on Raph's back."

It hurt, getting him on Raph's back, and Don couldn't help the cries of pain that left him. Still, his brothers secured him, and they took off, running for an exit. Every step hurt Don, jostling something, and leaving more red behind to be followed. He could see the blood dripping, feel the wounds getting jostled about. It was almost too much, but he held on to consciousness through sheer force of will alone. He lost track of what was happening around him, but he knew the moment that they left the building, the cool night air hitting him. It felt good, even if nothing else did. His brothers didn't stop running though, making straight for where they had hid the moving van. The doors opened with a familiar clang, and Raph was immediately kneeling to get Don off of his back. Leo jumped in the driver's seat while Mikey closed the doors and moved to help Raph.

The van took off, and Mikey carefully laid Don down, Raph turning around to look at his brother as soon as he was able to.

"Don't worry, Donnie. We're gonna get you home and fixed up. Alright?"

Don wasn't sure if he answered or not, but now that things seemed to be over, he was having a hard time saying focused.

"Donnie?"

"Donnie?"

"Don?"

"Don!"

…

"Don…?"

"Dona…lo..?"

"Don…tel..o?"

"Donatello?"

Don blinked his eyes open, having to take a moment to focus. His head felt fuzzy, and thinking was harder than normal. After a moment, though, his eyes focused and the worried face of his father came into view.

"Master… Splinter…?"

Splinter looked relieved. "Yes, my son, I am here. How are you feeling?"

"Um…" Don took a moment to think. How was he feeling? Everything felt kind of fuzzy, but underneath it he could feel pain. He meant to say that to his father, but instead what came out was "Fuzzy pain."

He must have looked confused, because his father chuckled. "That would probably be because of the pain medicine." Splinter's amusement faded. "You have been quite injured, my son."

Don blinked at his father, and then looked down at himself. He could feel a lot of the bandages on him, taped down, like over the wound on his neck, or on his burns, or wrapped around areas, like his thighs. He could feel a brace on his knee, and the tightness of stitches in his side. Both his hands were wrapped, although only one was in a brace.

"…My shell?" he asked. "My plastron?"

Splinter brought some water with a straw to Don's lips, and Don thankfully drank. "Your shell was damaged," he said. "There are many chips and scratches, but there are also some cracks and punctures. Your plastron also has injuries, including a rather large crack. Leatherhead has been to look at the damage. He thinks that with time the damage will heal, but he is also working on a temporary measure to support your body as it heals."

Don nodded, then winced. Splinter ran a soothing hand over his head. "My other injuries?"

"Your burns have been treated and will heal, although they will likely scar. Where you were… skinned… is going to scar. Your knee is in a brace but will likely heal. We will have to see how the nails on your right hand grow back. Your left hand is broken and burned. Leatherhead has carefully set it and we are hopeful that it will heal correctly. Your side and several of the deeper lashes have been cleaned and some were stitched. The others will bandaged." He paused. "What happened to you, my son?"

Don took a shuddering breath. "Hun tortured me," he said, and at the words, he felt tears form in his eyes. "He tortured me, trying to find our home, how to get into our defenses, everything. I wouldn't tell him, and so he kept going."

"Oh, my son," Splinter said as he ran his hand over Don's head again "I am so sorry that you had to face such a thing. You have honored me and your brothers with your strength, although I wish that it had not been necessary." He gave Don a compassionate smile. "You have a long path to healing, my son, but you will heal in time. And your family will be by you every step of the way."

"I'm sure," Don said.

Splinter smiled down at him. "Speaking of, your brothers have been most anxious to see you awake. Are you up to seeing them?"

Don let out a hum and nodded. Splinter gave his head one more rub, and then went to the door to let the others in. In short order, the room was filled not only with his brothers, but also April, Casey, and Leatherhead. His brothers crowded in ahead over everyone, though, hands reaching to comfort, soothe and help almost instinctively, and Don relaxed into it.

Yes, he had a long way to go in his healing. But he also had a family surrounding him to support him. He would heal. And then, after that, they would deal with Hun and the Purple Dragons.