Title: Why Won't it Stop?
Day: Febuwhump 2024, Day 8
Prompt: Why Won't it Stop?
Fandom: TMNT 2003
Word Count: 3938
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: T
Characters: Donatello, Splinter, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo
Warning:
Summary: Don seemed fine. Sure, he had a small headache, and yes, there were wounds on the side of his head, but he seemed fine. At least, at first. But the mind probe is an insidious thing, and it doesn't always show its affects right away.
Notes: Yes, I am once again exploring a way that the mind probe might have affected Donatello. There's so many things that could have happened, and none of them were explored in canon, so I'm going to have my fun exploring them! And yes, I do know why, in this, Don's head is hurting so much. But that is for a different story!

Why Won't it Stop?

"Don? You okay?"

Don looked up from his computer, looking over at Raph. "Yeah. Just… it's been a couple of intense days."

Raph frowned and walked closer to his brother. "It has. And you should probably rest," he said, not even beating around bush.

Don knew what Raph was getting at. Once they had all gotten back to the lair, they'd immediately turned to taking care of any injuries that they had. Don hadn't realized that he was bleeding at his temples until April had pointed out the stains that were growing on his mask. It had caused a bit of a panic, but they had quickly patched him up, with Master Splinter clearly worried. However, aside from a slight, persistent headache, which Don had thought was understandable, he had felt fine. He'd reassured everyone, and then headed to check on the alarms and other security systems. With everything that had happened, he needed to make sure that everything was in place to keep them safe before he could rest.

Still, the headache was persistent and Don reached up to rub at his head, stopping when he remembered the bandages. "I'll rest soon," he said, giving Raph a smile. "I just want to finish going over the security first."

Raph scowled, clearly unhappy with the answer. "Can it wait?" he asked, although he clearly knew what Don was going to say.

Don shook his head and winced just a little at the motion. "No, not really. No one else knows the systems." He turned back to his computer. "I promise, right after this I'll go to bed. And probably take some headache medicine."

Raph stalked up to Don, sitting down two pills and a glass of water on his desk. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that. Here. Just head to bed as soon as you can, alright? No all-nighter."

"What are you, Splinter?" Don said, teasing, but he took the pills and water anyway. "Thanks Raph."

"Yeah, no problem," his brother replied and then left.

Don took the pills, swallowing them down with the water, and continued working. It was a couple of hours later when he finally stopped, rubbing the space between his eyes. His head was pounding despite the medicine he had taken earlier. Perhaps it was the screen, or just the buildup of everything that had happened, but his head was killing him, quickly heading into migraine territory. He didn't know why it wouldn't stop, why the medicine didn't help, but enough was enough. With a groan and a hiss, Don set his computers to sleep mode and made his way to bed, hoping to sleep off the headache.

Training was cancelled the next morning. After everything that had happened, Splinter had made the decision that everyone needed rest, and no one had objected. The family stumbled out of their beds at whatever time they woke up, lazily making their way around the lair, doing whatever they needed to and keeping an ear on the news. But when Don hadn't emerged by lunchtime, Splinter grew worried.

"Leonardo. Go check on Donatello. If he's resting, do not bother him, but it is not like him to sleep in like this," Splinter said.

Leo nodded and got up immediately. "Yes, Master Splinter," he said.

Leo would readily admit that he was a bit worried about Don, so he didn't mind going to check on him. He went to Don's room, and curiously peeked in. The room was dark, but he could still see the outline of Don's form up on his bed. His brother was curled up, the blankets over his head, and Leo frowned a little. Don only slept like that when he was sick or not feeling well.

Leo bit his lip, undecided for a moment. It could simply be that Don was grieving the Professor's death. Leo knew that Don felt at least partially responsible for it, as he had helped Honeycutt run his program. But it could also be some unnoticed or worsening injury. After all, Don hadn't had the chance to tell them what had happened when he was captured by the Triceritons yet.

Decision made, Leo moved quietly, and made his way up the ladder to Don's loft bed, peering at the blanket covered lump that was his brother.

"Don?" he called out softly. "You okay?"

The lump shifted slightly, telling Leo that his brother was awake. The blanket pulled back enough that Leo could see Don's face, and Don squinted at him.

"Leo?" he said, half mumbling it.

"Yeah," Leo said. "It's me."

Don let out a noise and closed his eyes. "My head hurts."

Leo frowned, remembering the wounds on Don's head. "Have you taken anything for it?"

Don hummed a little. "Last night. Raph brought me something. Didn't help. Dunno why it won't stop hurting."

Leo didn't like the sound of that. "I don't know," he said. "But it's past noon. Maybe if you got some food and water, and took something stronger it would help."

Don let out a little breath. "Maybe," he said. "But I don't wanna get up."

Leo reached out, rubbing the edge of Don's shell. It wasn't the first time Don had dealt with a migraine. "I know. But it might help."

For a moment, Don didn't do anything. Then he let out a sigh and started to shift around. Leo moved down the ladder a bit, leaving room for Don to climb down as well. He was a bit unsteady, which alarmed Leo, honestly. It must have been a bad migraine to do that. Don kept his blanket with him as he climbed down from his bed, settling it back around his shoulders when he was down.

Leo walked with him to the entrance to his room, watching as Don, maskless, squinted in the bright light, quickly pulling the blanket up and over his head, forming a sort of hood. Leo frowned. It really was a bad migraine, wasn't it?

"Come on, Don," he said softly. "We'll get you something to eat and some medicine, and see if that helps."

"Sure, Leo," Don said, keeping his head down and hiding in the shadow of the blanket.

Splinter was in the kitchen when Leo and Don entered, and he smiled at his sons, although Leo could see the concern that flashed through his expression when he saw Don with the blanket over his head.

"Good morning, Donatello," he said. "Are you not feeling well?"

Don sat at the table, tugging the blanket over his head a bit more "I've just got a headache," he said. "It's been hanging on since last night. 'S more of a migraine, really."

Splinter nodded. "Perhaps some food and something to drink will help."

Don let out an amused huff. "Leo said the same thing."

"Where do you think I got it from?" Leo said with a grin.

In short order, Don had some food and a cup of tea in front of him. Leo had left to go get Don some stronger painkillers, as well, and Don dutifully ate, drank, and took his medicine. Leo managed to coax Don to the living room to watch a movie with Raph and Mikey. Don agreed, and he curled up on the couch, sitting next to Mikey, the blanket still over his head. Leatherhead and Splinter joined them, and they all settled in, watching as the action played out on the screen.

Halfway through the movie, though, something else caught Mikey's attention. It took him a moment to place it, but a look at Don had Mikey crinkling his brow in concern. His brother had settled down with the blanket over his head, but he had still been watching the movie. Now, though, his head was completely covered and something about the way he was breathing had caught Mikey's attention. It sounded… pained.

Mikey leaned over. "Hey—you good, bro?" he asked, laying a gentle hand on his blanket-covered brother.

Don didn't react, just let out a small sound. "Head hurts," he practically whimpered out. "'S getting worse. Dunno why it won't stop."

Oh, that wasn't good. Mikey snagged the remote and paused the movie. "Master Splinter?" he said. "Something's wrong with Donnie. He sounds like he's in a lot of pain."

Splinter was already in motion, coming over to Don. He pulled the blanket back from Don's head a little, and Don winced, closing his eyes and turning his head away from the light with a slight whimper.

"Donatello?" he asked. "Your head still hurts?"

Don nodded faintly, keeping his eyes firmly closed. "Worse than before. Like a spike," he said quietly.

"A spike where, my son?" Splinter asked.

"Temples…" Don said, a shudder running through him.

Splinter frowned. "Michelangelo. Go get the first aid supplies. I wish to check on Donatello's wounds Leonardo, Raphael, help me move Donatello to my room."

"Master Splinter," Leatherhead interrupted. "Perhaps I could help transport Donatello. I believe that I could support him there more easily."

Splinter nodded. "Yes, thank you, Leatherhead." He looked back at his sons. "In that case, Leonardo, please go fix some tea for your brother. Raphael, go ahead of us and lay out my bed."

Leatherhead moved next to Don, offering his support to the turtle as he stood up.

"I can walk," Don said, although it wasn't convincing.

"I understand," Leatherhead said. "But please allow me to assist you if you have need."

Don just nodded slightly, and he let Leatherhead help him up and keep him steady. Splinter frowned as he watched his son. Donatello had always been more prone to headaches than his brothers, and had gotten a few serious migraines over the years, but he had never had one this bad.

Praying that it wasn't something worse, Splinter accompanied them towards his room. Raph already had Splinter's bed laide out, and Leatherhead helped Don to lay down in it. Don immediately curled up, taking pains to cover his head and ignore the world around him. It didn't take long for Leo to arrive with the tea, or for Mikey to come with the first aid kit.

Sitting near the head of his bed, Splinter reached out and gently uncovered his son's head. Don made a noise of protest, but Splinter gently shushed him.

"I need to see the wounds on your head, my son," he said. "I need to see if they are what is causing you pain."

"…alright…" Don said.

Splinter gently removed the bandages on Don's head, Don flinching even at the gentlest touch. The wounds looked red and inflamed, but they had looked that way the day before, when they had first bandaged them. Splinter frowned, and began to clean them, Mikey handing him what he needed, hesitating only when he heard Don let out a whimper.

"Hurts," Don said.

Splinter hesitated. "I know, my son," Splinter said. "But it must be done."

"Here," Raph said. "Hold my hand, Donnie. Just squeeze it when it hurts."

Keeping his eyes closed, Don took Raph's hand, squeezing it as Splinter cleaned the wounds and rebandaged them. Splinter's heart broke as Donatello's breath hitched with the pain he was causing him. But Splinter knew that it needed to be done, and he kept up a quiet litany of reassurance as he worked.

"I am finished, Donatello," Splinter said, handing everything back to Mikey.

Don let out a whimper curling in more. "Why won't it stop hurting, then?" he said.

Splinter frowned, worry in his eyes. "I do not know my son. But you will rest here for the rest of the day." He looked up at his other sons and Leatherhead. "Donatello will stay here until he is better. I will stay with him. Please be mindful of his pain."

"Of course," Leo said, reading the dismissal for what it was, and beginning to guide everyone out. "If you need anything, though, just let us know."

"I shall," Splinter said.

Mikey was the last one out, and he hesitated. "Feel better soon, Donnie," he said.

They left, closing the door behind them, and Splinter looked down at Don. His poor son was in quite a bit of pain. Hopefully rest would take care of it. Splinter rose, turning out the lights in his room and leaving only a few candles lit.

"Rest well, my son," Splinter said. "Hopefully it will improve soon."

Don let out a noise and just curled in, trying to fall asleep to deal with the pain.

Don's sleep was restless, the pain keeping him from resting peacefully. More concerning was that the pain Donatello was experiencing only grew worse as the evening progressed. Splinter had moved, taking the pillow away and instead resting his son's head in his lap. He stroked Donatello's head, taking care to stay away from the angry, inflamed wounds on his head. He had removed the bandages in the hopes that it would help his son's pain, but it seemed to have done little. Tears leaked out of Donatello's eyes as he suffered, and there was nothing that Splinter could do.

There was a light knock on his door, and then it slid open slightly.

"Master Splinter?"

Leonardo's voice called in, and Splinter could see his eldest standing in the doorway, blocking as much of the light as possible.

"Come in," Splinter said softly. Donatello whimpered.

Leonardo frowned as he approached the two of them. "How is he?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Splinter looked down at Donatello, worry in his eyes. "No better. Worse, in fact. He still feels pain even when he sleeps."

Leo looked down at Don with worried eyes. "Why is he in so much pain?"

Splinter shook his head. "I believe it has to do with how he got these," he gestured at the wounds on Donatello's head, "but that is all that I can guess."

Don shifted again and whimpered, moving in a way that Splinter had come to recognize as his son being awake.

"Donatello?" he said softly.

Don let out a small noise of pain. "Hurts…" he said.

Splinter's heart sank. "Oh, my son."

Don shuddered and the tears fell from his closed eyes faster. "Why won't it stop? Why won't it stop?"

"I do not know," Splinter said. For a moment, he debated something, but at Don's next whimper, he made up his mind. He looked at Leo. "Leonardo. Go prepare the tea with the sedative. Make it as strong as is safe."

Leo started. "But—Master, that's only for the biggest injuries."

Splinter looked back down at Don, who was shuddering in his grasp. "My son, this counts."

Leo looked at his father for a moment, and then down at his brother. He nodded and left.

"Hopefully this will give you some relief, my son."

Don didn't respond, and Splinter wasn't even sure that he could at this point. Don simply curled up more, crying as he breathed out the phrase "Why won't it stop?" over and over.

Leonardo was quick, and soon returned with the tea. With Leonardo's help, Splinter propped Donatello up and guided him to drink the tea. The sedative in it was a heavy one, and Splinter hoped that it would allow Donatello to sleep through the pain. They carefully laid him down after the cup was emptied, Splinter working through some pressure points in the hopes that they would help as well, although they hadn't yet.

Eventually the sedative worked, finally allowing Donatello to sleep. For that Splinter was grateful, and he held out hope that the sleep would be healing. The family took turns staying with Don throughout the night, keeping an eye on him, trying to make sure he was as comfortable as possible. It was exhausting, but no one complained.

However, by the next day, the pain was worse, and the sedative was ineffective.

Splinter refused to be moved from his son's side as Don sobbed, letting anguished cries of pain as his head rested in his father's lap. Splinter was at a loss. The medicines, the pressure points, even spiritual means had all stopped working. All Splinter could do was give Donatello soothing words and let him know that he wasn't alone. Gentle hands smoothed his son's brow and rested on his shoulders in an attempt to bring some kind of comfort that he wasn't even sure his son could recognize at the moment.

"Donatello… Oh, my son. Oh, my Donatello…"

Don didn't respond, and Splinter didn't even know if he could at this point. He just laid there, curled up, shuddering and sobbing in pain. It tore at Splinter's heart. It was more pain than Splinter had ever seen one of his sons in, and more pain than he ever wanted to see his sons in. If he could have, he would have taken this burden from Donatello in a heartbeat.

As it was, Splinter's worry was only growing. This was the third day that Donatello was experiencing this pain, and it only seemed to be getting worse, not better. It brought to mind the worry that there was something inside of Donatello's head that was wrong. If that was the case, then they had no way of knowing and no way of fixing it. While he had needed to learn alongside his sons, and Donatello had quickly outpaced him, Splinter had done his fair share of medical research and reading. Possibilities of what this could be played in his mind, and he feared that, if something was that wrong, that he would lose his son.

So, Splinter stayed by his side, doing everything he could to soothe his son, listening to his anguished, pain-filled cries, and trying not to wonder why the pain wouldn't stop.

"My son… oh my poor, poor son. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I am here. I am here, Donatello. I will never leave you."

Splinter continued to soothe his son, determined not to leave him alone or unattended. Splinter couldn't afford to, too afraid of what might happen if Donatello was left alone for even a moment.

Splinter jerked to wakefulness with a sharp gasp. He must have fallen asleep while tending Donatello. Shaking his head, he was just forming the thought that perhaps he should call one of his other sons to take over, when he suddenly realized why he had snapped awake.

Donatello's breathing. It was—

In a panic, Splinter checked over his son. Donatello was still breathing, which was a relief. But it was no longer staccato with pain. It seemed to have eased some, settling into a more regular rhythm, although there were hitches here and there. His pulse, though a bit high, was acceptable. And although his brow was still furrowed in pain, it did not seem as extreme as it had been. He seemed to actually be sleeping.

Splinter relaxed slightly. This seemed like an improvement. He hoped it was an improvement. Perhaps whatever was causing Don so much pain had finally run its course. Splinter didn't know, and he suspected he wouldn't fully be at ease until his son was back to his normal activities, but he was going to hold on to this as a bit of hope.

It was a few hours later when Donatello woke, although it was only for a moment. He shifted a bit, whimpering.

"…Father?"

Splinter did not hesitate. "I am here, my son. I am with you." He paused. Did he dare ask? "How are you feeling?"

Don let out a small noise. "…head…hurts. Why won't it stop?"

Splinter felt like crying. While Donatello was still in pain, he was better than the night before, and for that Splinter was grateful.

"I do not know, my son," he said, pressing his nose to Don's head, like he did when they were mere tots. "But I will stay with you through it."

Don hummed an acknowledgment and drifted back off to sleep.

Splinter thanked his ancestors.

Don slept for many hours, waking here and there although he didn't do much more but allow them to give him drink and medicine. Everyone, though, was bolstered by this improvement, and eagerly waited for more. Fortunately, they were rewarded. Although he slept through most of the day and into the night, the next day he willingly opened his eyes and expressed that he was hungry.

Mikey had never heated up a can of soup so quickly.

By the next day, although he was still in Splinter's room, Don was at least sitting up to eat. Splinter watched him closely, knowing that his other sons were outside the door, listening in.

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

"Better," Don said, although there was still some exhaustion in his voice. "I've still got a low-level headache, but it's easing up. Overall, though, I'm feeling better."

Splinter nodded, relieved to hear that. "I am glad to hear that, my son. Very glad. However, even when you are feeling well enough to return to your normal activities, you are still going to take another week off."

Don grimaced a little, but he nodded. "Yeah… yeah, okay," he said, not objecting. He reached a hand towards his head, but never made contact with it. "I think I need the time."

"I am glad to see you agree," Splinter said, although he frowned soon after. "Donatello… those wounds on your head," he started. "You never did explain them."

Don looked down at his bowl of soup, frowning. "…They had to be from the mind probe," he said softly.

"Mind probe?" Splinter questioned.

Don nodded slightly, and Splinter noticed how he tensed up. "When the Triceritons had me. I wouldn't tell them anything, so they put this…device… on my head. It was like a helmet that also covered my eyes. They turned it on, and… I don't remember much of the process. I just remember the pain and… and the feeling of my mind being invaded. It felt… violating. I couldn't stop them from going through my memories." He glanced at his father. "That's why I called out to you."

Splinter nodded. "Do you think this mind probe is somehow responsible for your pain?"

Don frowned, his shoulders curling in a bit. "I don't know. Maybe. In the end, I don't think it really matters. It's over and done with and I don't want to think about it again."

Splinter nodded, took the bowl of soup out of Don's hands and sat it to the side. "Just know, my son—if you ever wish to talk about it, I am here." He reached up to cup Don's face. "And I will reach across time and space for you, if need be."

Don smiled at him. "Thanks, Father," he said.

Splinter nodded and let go. "Finish your soup and rest, my son."

Don nodded but smiled. "Yes, father," he said.

It didn't take Don long to pick his bowl back up and finish off the soup in it. Nor did it take long for him to lie back down in Splinter's bed. Splinter once again drew Donatello's head into his lap, pulling the blankets up around him, although not over his head anymore.

Splinter stroked his son's head, pressing his nose to his son's head, and hummed softly as Donatello fell back asleep. Perhaps they would never know for sure why Donatello had experienced such pain. Perhaps, as his son had said, it did not matter. But for now, Splinter would just be grateful that his son was on the mend and pray that he never had to experience pain such as that again.