Chapter Text
It was dark.
Starbursts of light flashed behind Donnie’s eyelids. Piecing together a single coherent thought felt like wading through dark, murky water. Slowly he was being dragged deeper beneath the tide. His breath crackled as he breathed in, out. In, out.
“…know it’s not your fault, obviously…”
Had someone been speaking to him?
His entire body felt like static, like white noise. Vaguely he registered a warm hand in his, holding just tightly enough to make him aware of their presence but not tight enough to trap him there. The person at his side was speaking, sounding soothing and gentle.
“…I just wish you woulda told me,” they continued. “I can’t help but feel that I should’ve known, y’know? You hadn’t been actin’ right for… for months. I just kept thinking pushing was just gonna make you mad at me. Guess I didn’t really trust you either, huh?”
Donnie twitched. He cracked open his eyes, trying to make out the indistinct shape in front of him, blurred in golden light. The voice pinged something in his brain. The memory was just out of reach, like he could feel it brushing against his fingertips.
“Hey, there you are,” they said. “Had a feelin’ you were awake. You with me, Dee?”
Something had been beeping, following the timing of his breaths. A mask had been fitted over his face, oxygen being artificially pumped into his lungs. Beneath the buzzing of his skin he could register a distant roar of pain, blunted by the drugs in his system. One of his arms was splinted. He blinked, trying to focus his gaze on the person in front of him.
“If you need to go back to bed, that’s fine,” they continued. “You’ve been out for a while.”
He stuck his tongue out to rewet his lips. “April,” he croaked.
“Hey,” April said, suddenly sounding choked up. “You don’t gotta talk right now if you’re not ready, okay? Your throat’s pretty messed up.”
She wasn’t supposed to be there. He could remember that, even through the fog. He’d run from her so she wouldn’t hate him too, wouldn’t get involved in all of this. “April,” he repeated, small and raspy. “What…”
The hand in his squeezed. “You’re okay,” she said, her voice wobbling dangerously. “We’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you. Can you tell me what you remember?”
He blinked slowly, furrowing his brow. Swallowing was a struggle. His chest twinged. He felt embarrassed when he whispered, “I don’t…”
“That’s okay,” she soothed. “I… I’m sorry for not being here sooner. The guys, they told me what was going on. They told me everything.”
Donnie stared at her blankly, trying to piece together what she meant. Everything. What was everything supposed to mean?
Oh.
It slammed into him all at once. The large hand shattering his wrist, his head cracking against the floor, screaming as Leo ran his blade through his shoulder, Raph ripping through his shell like paper, dragging him back by the ankle, shattering his plastron, hands around his throat, squeezing, being dizzy and delirious and terrified and begging—
They’d tried to kill him. They’d tried to kill him and she knew.
The realization wrenched him back to life all at once. Donnie ripped his hand out of April’s and shot upward, crying out at the pain that lanced through his chest. April shouted in surprise and threw herself backwards into the chair.
“I’m sorry!” he cried.
April’s face twisted in heartbreak. “Donnie, your chest—”
“I’m sorry!” he repeated, desperate and teary-eyed. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, please don’t be mad at me, I, I—”
“You gotta lay back down, baby—”
“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” he wailed, thrashing and fighting the blankets holding him down. April shot out to grab his shoulders, ripping herself away immediately when the touch made him scream and scramble back. “I didn’t mean— I’m sorry!”
“No no, it’s okay! You didn’t—”
He couldn’t hear her. The ringing in his ears was deafening. He ripped off the oxygen mask and gasped into the suffocating air, curling into himself and it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, he just wanted it all to stop. He just wanted to die.
At some point his pleads for mercy had turned into uncontrollable, open-mouthed sobbing, and it wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t hear himself or April over the thumping of his own heart.
The door to the medbay threw open, and Donnie caught a flash of green and blue and red and wide alarmed eyes and a familiar voice ringing out, panicked and furious and
he
couldn’t
stop
screaming.
“—not helping, you need to—”
“—are fading, he needs another—”
“— near him he’s gonna—”
“—out of options—!”
“—him calmed down! Just—”
“But—”
“Leo, leave!”
“—I can’t, April, please—”
“Just GET OUT!”
It wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. He needed to tear it out of this chest, this crushing feeling. His voice rang out into the empty air and he sank his claws into the bandages wrapped around his chest, choking on his own screams, suffocating, dying, he had to be dying, and it hurt, it hurt, it all hurt so much, he just wanted it to stop—
Someone grabbed his hand and pulled it away, and no, no, his wrist, they were going to break it, he didn’t want— and a small hand reached out to cup his cheek and turned his head to face theirs, their voice rumbling and kind and familiar and—
He let out a hoarse wail of grief at the sight of Dad in front of him, his eyes clear and gentle, and accepted the hand pulling him into his side without any complaint. He couldn’t breathe through the force of his delirious sobbing, the world spinning around him as his vision blackened at the edges, and Dad shushed him gently, rubbing his shell, whispering I know, I know, and it was all he could hear. There was nothing in the world but this, nothing else that mattered.
“Dad!” he screamed into his side, getting snot and tears all over his robe. “Da—Dad, Dad, Daddy!”
“I know,” Dad said, his voice wobbling, “I know, I know. Breathe, my son.”
“It hurts!” Donnie wailed, curling his fist into the fabric. “It hurts, make it stop, please, Daddy, make it stop—”
“Breathe, breathe,” Dad repeated, stroking the back of his head. “It will hurt less if you breathe, Purple. Take a deep breath.”
“It hurts, please, please, I, I—”
“Shh…”
He hiccuped, his whole body spasming as the pain set in, set alight and screaming. He shuddered violently, choking on his own blood and spit and agony. “I wanna die,” he pleaded, “I wanna die, I wanna die so ba-hhd—”
Dad’s breath hitched, his hand trembling from where it cupped the back of his head. “It will be okay,” he choked, “it will be okay, you will be alright. Just breathe.”
Donnie couldn’t get any more words out, no matter how much he tried. His body was absorbed by white hot agony, wracking him with uncontrollable spasms that left him gasping and whimpering. Dad was there at his side the whole time, counting him through breathing, starting over when he failed, shushing him when he cried out from the pain and shook all over.
April reached over and settled a hand on his shell, minding the bandages. Donnie squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into his Dad’s robe, still shaking apart, rendered immobile by the excruciating pain. He hoped to hide away from the world as they tried to speak to him, to each other, voices low and worried.
“He’s gonna need another dose,” April breathed. “But Leo can’t come in or he’s gonna freak again. I guess we should’ve guessed this would happen.”
“I don’t want him moving if I can help it,” Dad said. “It may be wisest to wait for him to fall asleep before Blue administers another dose.”
“When he’s hurtin’ so bad?” April sounded stressed.
“I am not sure we have any other option.”
Her next breath sounded like it’d been punched out of her chest. She pulled away to settle back in the chair at his bedside, breathing raggedly. Donnie’s lungs burned. He shook all over, wanting to ask her if she was alright and whining in frustration when he couldn’t get the words out.
“It is alright,” Dad reminded him. “We will be here for you, Donatello.”
He sniffled and held him a little tighter, confused by the gentle, loving quality of his voice. Through his pain-hazed mind he found himself unable to remember the last time someone had spoken to him with so much unfiltered care. It felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened.
(They had tried to kill him. They’d tried to kill him.)
“Dad,” he whispered, so crackly it was nearly incomprehensible.
“I know,” Dad reminded him. “I know, I know. I am so sorry I did not see what was happening until it was too late. It is my fault you’re in so much pain.”
“Splints…” April said, sad.
Donnie wanted to say it’s okay, mostly on reflex, but he couldn’t get the words out. He wasn’t sure what he was even apologizing for— had they told him everything too? There would be no reason he’d be holding him so tight if they had.
Everything…
“April?” Donnie asked in a tiny voice. “I… April?”
There was a beat of tense silence. “What’s up?” she asked.
Donnie shifted, hiccuping at the burst of pain in his side. He glanced up from Dad’s robe to look at her with hazy, feverish eyes. He could only make out the vague outline of her shape through the film of tears and filter of pain.
“Ev’rything?” he slurred, exhausted. “You said…”
“Yeah,” April confirmed, gentle. “They told me everything they remembered. Why?”
He blinked slowly, trying to focus on her. Dad continued to caress his head and he relaxed, muscles unwinding, in too much pain to turn into putty but still relieved by the kindness. “How long did they…” he croaked. “How long… did they– they lock me in there?”
April blinked, her eyes widening in alarm. “What?”
“They… how long?” The pull of exhaustion was starting to take him away, and he shifted in an attempt to get his bearings, his breath hitching. He’d been crying the whole time, he noticed. It hadn’t been registering to him. “They said… they said it was three hours, but, they— it didn’t feel…”
Dad tensed underneath him. April’s face went blank, visibly running over the information in her head. It felt weird to be able to tell what she was thinking, at least marginally. His brothers had been unreadable to him for months now.
“Okay,” April said in a hoarse, shaking voice. “Apparently they didn’t tell me everything.”
“I have not heard of this either,” Dad said. “What happened, Purple?”
Donnie couldn’t get the words out. His voice gave way and the very act of keeping his head upright was exhausting him. He fell back down to Dad’s side, shaking all over, barely processing it as he pulled the blankets back over him.
“You don’t have to tell us right now,” April said softly. “I’ll go bother Leo about it later. I don’t… ugh, I told them all not to keep shit from me.”
“It may just be hard to talk about,” Dad said. “They are hurting because of this too.”
“I know…” April sighed. “It’s not their fault either, I know. But still, it’s…”
She trailed off, unable to finish her thought. Dad shifted and didn’t respond, gently prying Donnie away from him a bit to expose his face to the air. He didn’t react at all as Dad slipped the oxygen mask over his face again, his eyes slipping shut in exhaustion. He’d been all cried out for a while now, too tired to feel afraid.
“You may go back to sleep, Purple,” Dad said, gentle, as he settled a hand on his forehead. It was more akin to a plea than an offer. “You will feel better when you wake up.”
“Hurts,” Donnie mumbled.
“I know,” Dad said. “It will be better if you sleep.”
Donnie took a deep breath, hitching on the exhale, and shifted in an attempt to get comfortable. It wasn’t very successful, but he didn’t feel like he was in his own body anymore anyway. Dad and April were continuing to speak, but he couldn’t process their words.
Not until April put a hand on his shoulder, the uninjured one. “It’s gonna be okay,” she said, a desperate note to her voice. “It’s not gonna happen again. They… they didn’t mean it. They never meant to hurt you. It wasn’t their fault, okay?”
“I know,” Donnie mumbled, hazy with exhaustion. (God, did he know.)
“It’s still okay if you’re not ready to face them after all of that,” April continued, impossibly kind. “Nobody’s gonna be mad at you, not for this. We owe you that much. We’ll get it figured out, one step at a time.”
Donnie didn’t respond. He shifted, curled into himself as much as he could, and let himself drift away.