Title: Shard
Day: Whumptober 2023, Day 22
Prompt: "They never saw us coming til they hit the floor" Shard/Vehicular accident/ "Watch Out!"
Fandom: TMNT 2003
Word Count: 1336
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: T
Characters: Donatello, Michelangelo
Warning:
Summary: Don's breath caught painfully as he tried to breathe, and for a moment that was all he could focus on. He wasn't even when he realized that he was lying on his side, staring at a spread of glass shards, from pieces as big as his hand, to ones that barely glittered in the meager light. Don blinked, and tried to shift his head, only to feel the scrape of glass below his face, and a blinding pain in his head. Breathing hurt, his head hurt, and moving hurt.
Notes:
Shard
"Watch out!"
Don heard his brother yell, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. There was no time to react, no time to do anything as glass shattered, metal creaked and groaned, and Don felt his seatbelt snap. Everything was a confusing cacophony of noise and sound and sight and pain the Battleshell rolled over and over again until it finally came to a groaning, agonizing stop.
For a moment, there was silence, or at least it felt that way to Don. And then, before he could make sense of what was around him, there was another impact, hard enough to send him rattling and flying around the inside of the Battleshell and send the Battleshell careening over the edge of something, rolling down it, before smashing into the bottom and finally, finally, coming to a stop.
Don's breath caught painfully as he tried to breathe, and for a moment that was all he could focus on. He wasn't even when he realized that he was lying on his side, staring at a spread of glass shards, from pieces as big as his hand, to ones that barely glittered in the meager light. Don blinked, and tried to shift his head, only to feel the scrape of glass below his face, and a blinding pain in his head. Breathing hurt, his head hurt, and moving hurt.
There was a sound from the back of the Battleshell. It sounded like things shifting around, and Don could see movement reflected in the shards around him. That should have gotten some sort of a response out of Don, but all he could wonder was if the glass that surrounded him also surrounded the person back there too.
"Oh, geeze, what happened? Donnie, I feel like—Donnie!"
That was Mikey's voice, and he had apparently caught sight of him. Don could hear him pause, and within a moment, Don heard the sound of something scraping or sweeping glass away. It continued around him, and Don was almost disappointed when his brother swept the glass away from in front of him. The shards might have hurt, but they were beautiful.
"Don! Donnie! Oh, shell, this isn't good. Donnie, can you hear me?"
Don's breath hitched as he tried to take in a deep enough breath to talk. His eyes tracked up to his brother's panicked face. "Hurts," he breathed out. Mike was bloodied, but he was clearly able to move around, unlike Don. Even with the shards gone, Don didn't feel like he could move.
Mikey's hands hovered above Don, clearly not sure what to do. "Shell, Donnie, I—okay, just, just hang on. Just hang on. I'm going to get Raph and Leo here, and then we'll—"
"Mike! Don!"
"Mikey! Donnie!"
Mikey's head jerked towards the outside as their brothers' voices rang out. "In here!" he paused. "Donnie's hurt bad!"
The footsteps got louder, and within what felt like seconds to Don, he could catch the worried faces of his brothers peering in the damaged Battleshell. "He's hurt bad," Mikey said. "Really bad, I-."
"We'll take care of him, Mikey," Leo said, his voice calming. "Just let us see what the damage is.
"Hey—is he not—" Raph's voice rang out, before he moved closer to Don. "Hey. Hey! Breathe, Donnie! Breathe!"
Don stared at his brother. "Sorry," he said. "…hurts."
"Yeah, well, considering you've got two inches of glass sticking out of you, I bet it does," Raph said. Don idly watched as his brother began to look him up and down.
"Don't worry, Don," Leo said, and Don's eyes drifted back to him. "We're going to get you out of here and all fixed up, okay? Can you tell us where else it hurts?"
"Hurts… to move…" Don said.
"Yeah, that might be because you broke your leg," Raph said. "And I think this one is a bad one."
"I think the shoulder he's laying on might be damaged too," Leo said.
"He's probably got more glass in him," Mikey said. "I swept a lot of it to the side before I got to him."
The world slowly faded out, although Don was dimly aware of it. Everything felt as if it were in a fog. His brothers securing the glass shard in his side, not daring to take it out yet, should have hurt more than it did. The blanket that one of them laid over him should have felt warmer. His brother's voices should have felt more comforting. Moving him should have hurt more than it did.
Don barely remembered being moved. What he did remember was the grating of more glass shards as they picked him up, and how much it hurt as the shards cut him.
When Don next became aware, it was to a soft plink, plink, plink. He still felt as if he were in a fog, but it was a different kind of fog. That thought rolled around in his brain for a moment, before the sound caught his attention again. Blinking, he turned his head to look over at the sound. His father was there, with a pair of tweezers and a glass dish, concentrating on Don's arm. Don's eyes drifted around the room, blinking as he realized that he was home, and he was on the cot in his lab, where all the medical supplies were kept.
He felt a small prick of pain in his arm and looked over to see his father pull out a sliver of glass from his arm. For a moment, Don stared at it, watched as it caught the light, before Splinter dropped it in the bowl.
"Sensei?" he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. It still hurt to talk, it didn't hurt the same way it did before.
Splinter looked up, sitting the tweezers down and smiling at Don. He stood, and laid a hand on Don's forehead. "Donatello," he said, his voice quiet. "How do you feel?"
"Hurts… to breathe," Don said.
Splinter nodded. "I'm not surprised," he said. "You had a rather large shard of glass imbedded in your side. It cut many muscles. We were fortunate that it did not damage your lungs." He gently stroked Don's forehead. "You did, however, break a few ribs. Additionally, you have broken your leg badly, and your shoulder is bruised."
Don stared at his father for a moment, and then nodded. "What… are you… doing?" he asked.
Splinter returned to the stool he had been sitting on, picking up the tweezers again. "When the glass on the Battleshell broke, my son, it shattered into many pieces. In the resulting tumble and crash, many of the shards embedded themselves in you. We have been pulling them out of you one at a time. That is the reason for the many bandages on you."
"…Oh."
Splinter smiled at him. "Fortunately, Miss O'Neil was able to procure some strong painkillers for you. If you feel as if you are not quite aware, that is why. It has been a very… painful… process for all of us, but especially for you, my son."
Don blinked, trying to remember. He had a vague memory of crying out in pain with his family around him, but at the moment, that was the best that he could muster. "I don't… remember…"
Splinter nodded. "Perhaps that is for the best. Your brothers and Mr. Jones are out collecting what is left of the Battleshell." He reached a hand out and laid it on Don's forehead again. "Rest, my son. Once this is over, we will talk again. But for now, allow the medicine to do its work as I do mine."
Don nodded, his eyes already feeling heavy. Sleep pulled at him, and he didn't fight it. Don let sleep pull him under to the musical sound of the plink, plink, plink, of his father pulling glass shards out of him, and dreamed about the light refracting from a million tiny pieces.
