It All Comes Down to One Thing

There was something unnerving about Donatello. Mikey kept one eye trained on him as Raph drove them back home in the Battleshell, huddled in the back, trying to stop Donatello’s wire-cut wrists from bleeding all over the place. Mikey was trying his best, stealing sideways glances at Don’s barely conscious face ever so often. Donatello’s features were slack, his eyes half-lidded, his head lolling slightly at every turn the truck took. He was still there but not overly responsive. Mikey could understand. If he was the one found beaten and broken with barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his skull, he would wish to tune out of reality too. Still, he had a foreboding feeling that there was something wrong. The light had faded from Donatello’s eyes.
Mikey hoped he would get better when he got some sleep. When they were sitting at the table eating meal and he saw Don stumble out of his room, he realised, no such luck. Donatello was awake at last and he was eating and drinking like normal. Mikey’s bad feeling didn’t go away. Going back to his room, his look was still downcast. The way he swayed while walking. The uncaring indifference when he accidentally hit his elbow on the door. Mikey got up and quickly went after him.
“Don, you there?” Donatello turned around and his eyes were slightly surprised.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he said.
“You know... I, uh... I’ve been thinking... and... are you okay?” Mikey rubbed his head and offered an apologetic look. Don looked him in the eyes for a brief second before his eyes lidded again, the scary slackness taking over his face completely.
“I should’ve died in there,” he said. Mikey blinked.
“Huh? That’s nonsense! You’re here, ain’t you? So stop saying such silly things.”
Donatello shrugged with appaling unconcern. “I know my life came to its end when Bruder put gun to my head. He should have shot me.”
“Now come on Donnie! That’s some seriously freaky stuff you’re saying there!” Mikey laughed nervously. Donatello didn’t respond. “Don, bro, snap out of it, you’re here, you’re okay, no one’s dying today! Stop saying things that scare the shell outta me!” Don didn’t bother lifting his gaze at Mikey’s frightened face and stared gently at his knees instead. Mikey backed away but then stepped forward and shook Donatello roughly. “Don! You gotta hear me out! You did not die! You’re still alive! You’re still among us living!”
Donatello regarded him with a look of pity and sadness. Mikey gave a choked sob and ran away from him.
-
“Master Splinter!” Raphael called out a bit too loudly and he knocked on the door of Splinter’s room. He heard shuffling sounds as Splinter got up and then the door slid open.
“What is it, my son?” Splinter asked calmly. Raphael pressed Michelangelo’s hand in his and blurted out:
“There’s something wrong with Don, master Splinter. He ain’t answering whatever we say. He’s just lyin’ on ‘is bed and starin’ at the ceiling. Mikey says he said...” Raphael looked at Michelangelo; his brother was wiping silent tears that kept flowing from his eyes, hanging on to Raphael’s hand as if his life depended on it. “...that he should’ve died.” He grimaced at the word’s disgusting taste and saw a few expressions run across Splinter’s face, of which all stayed determined calmness.
“I must see him at once,” said Splinter and Raphael quickly followed him to Donatello’s room, dragging Michelangelo along. Inside he saw that nothing had changed since they left: Donatello’s form was stretched out on the bed, his glassy eyes regarding the ceiling. Raphael grew terrified when he realised that he couldn’t tell if Donatello was still alive if it weren’t for the fact that he was breathing. Splinter was at the bedside immediately, trying to get Donatello’s attention first by waving his hand in front of his face, then speaking his name. Raphael felt great relief when Don’s eyes focused and he even moved his head a little to look at Splinter. Michelangelo pressed Raphael’s hand very tightly as Donatello spoke in a small, confused voice: “Master Splinter?”
“My son. What is the matter?” Splinter demanded in a strict yet fatherly voice.
“I don’t get it. I should be dead by now. I swear I heard him pull the trigger,” Donatello whispered and Raphael heard and felt Michelangelo choke on a horrified sob. Even Splinter’s breath hitched and seeing Donatello’s look of surprise, incomprehension and pity at their reaction broke Raphael’s heart. He looked down and fought the urge to break something.
“My son, there are many things between Heaven and Earth that we do not understand...”
“But you can’t cheat death.” Donatello shook his head and it made Raphael feel sick. Splinter sighed and gave his two other sons a sad look before focusing on Donatello again.
“Please, come with me my son. There is something I need to tell you before you pass away.” Donatello nodded and got up with a grunt. Raphael’s mouth hung open and he found his voice just in time before the two left the room.
“Master Splinter, with all due respect but are you out of your mind?! Are ya gonna encourage him on this madness?!”
“Raphael!” Splinter cut him short. “Do you trust me?” Raphael gasped like a fish out of water and after a while of horrible emotions he couldn’t even tell apart wrecking him, he lowered his head.
“Yes.” Splinter nodded once and he led Donatello out of the room. Raphael kept his head low but started shaking violently. Michelangelo touched his shoulder gently and it was all to make Raphael snap.
“What the shell is wrong with him?!” he bellowed and wasn’t sure if he meant Splinter or Donatello. Shell, it could even have been Leonardo and remembering the brother who fled from them made him even madder. “How dare he do something like that to us! Who does he think he is! Were falling apart here and it’s all his fault!” He wasn’t making sense, he knew that but he didn’t care. He was barely keeping himself from destroying Donatello’s room and apparently Michelangelo was aware of that because he tried pulling him out. Absolutely furious, Raphael yanked his hand out of his grip and pointed at him. “You! Just what did you do?!” Even through the red fog he registered the betrayed look on Michelangelo’s face and he felt it jam something inside of him, but he ignored it. “You were with him all the time, it was you who went to him when I fought Bruder, you took care of him in the Battleshell, you talked to him after lunch – what did ya do to him?!” he shrieked and went after his neck. Michelangelo screamed and ran. Raphael followed suit and broke a lot of things along the way. Deep in the sewers, he realised he had lost Michelangelo. And with growing terror, he realised he had also lost himself. He started hyperventilating, deadly confused with rage and caring. He wanted to go topside, vent out by killing some scum but he remembered meeting Casey for the first time and simply knew that wasn’t an option. He wanted to go back to the lair and apologise but he felt so insecure that he couldn’t do that either. Amidst his confusion he recalled Leonardo again and began screaming at him as if he could hear him. He screamed his lungs out, accusing him of everything that crashed down on him, of Donatello’s state, of Raphael’s rage, of not knowing what he was to do without his leader.
Leonardo’s name on his lips and face in his eyes lingered even as he fell down on his face and passed out with exhaustion.
Raphael awoke much calmer. He walked slowly back to the lair, gradually finding out about every little thing that hurt in his body. Both his hands were bruised to the bone and he was glad when he left the stench of blood on the walls behind him. The squeaking of rats convinced him not to crash down in the middle of the sewers smelling of blood. He was lucky they hadn’t eaten him alive.
When he got back to the lair, he nodded at Michelangelo in front of the television, not sure if he should take his brother’s badly hidden relief as good or bad. Michelangelo noticed his bloody hands and helped him bandage them. While he was at it, Raphael began choking on the thick air of tension that filled the lair. He gulped and asked quietly:
“So how’s Don?” Michelangelo’s gaze became glazed.
“I don’t know.” He looked at Raphael for support and he nodded, urging him to go on. “They haven’t left the room since I came back. I heard them talking but I didn’t want to eavesdrop so I turned on the TV...” Michelangelo shuddered slightly. “You think he’s gonna be okay?”
“Yeah he better be,” Raphael growled. “I ain’t done with ‘im for scaring the shell outta me.”
Michelangelo laughed for the sake of the joke. “So you don’t think he’s gonna...” He seemed to make himself say it. “...get what he wants?”
Raphael snorted. “Absolutely not. Master Splinter’ll tell ‘im not to go nuts and he’ll be fine again.” He wasn’t too sure about that but he needed to look strong, and Michelangelo’s grattitude for being comforted alone made him feel better. He had no idea how Splinter would persuade Don that his life was far from over but he trusted him to do his best, so he eased into watching television with Michelangelo, trying to forget about it and gather strenght for facing Donatello again.
Only when Michelangelo jumped up did Raphael realise that there was someone behind them. He spun around quickly and faced Splinter with an unreadable expression.
“Come my sons,” he said and reached for the remote, turning the screens off. “It is time.”
Raphael braced himself and followed Splinter to his room. There kneeled Donatello, eyes closed and expression peaceful as if he were sleeping. Splinter kneeled down in front of him and motioned Raphael and Michelangelo to sit by his sides.
“Master Splinter, what’s with ‘im?” asked Raphael concerned.
“I have hypnotized him for I hope that perhaps there is something in his subcounsciousness that he rejects. I have gone with him through most of the day. Now...” he gestured towards Donatello, “he believes to be in who he calls ‘Bruder’’s house. Bruder has captured him and he has been interrogating him for information for a very long time. However, he was unsuccessful, so he used what Donatello calls ‘Triceraton mind probe’. In great pain your brother called for me but instead heard your voices. That is why you are here. I need you to help me get him through this event.” Raphael shifted uneasily.
“But master Splinter, what’re we s’posed to say?”
“Yeah it’s not like we’ve done this before, what if we screw up and end up boggling his mind even more?” Raphael would have whacked him, only if he hadn’t hit the spot painfully precisely. Or maybe exactly because of that. But Splinter silenced them by raising his hand.
“Worry not my sons. He will tell you what to say.” He took a slow breath. “Donatello. Do you hear me?”
Don didn’t move, he only opened his mouth. “Yes, I can hear you.” Raphael bit his lip at the lack of life that was apparent in Donatello’s voice.
“Donatello, where are you?” Splinter nodded at him while Donatello seemed to be thinking. “Where is your body?” he specified to get a quick answer.
“My body is kneeling in front of Bruder in his house.”
“And where is your mind?” A slight pause.
“On the astral plane, I think.”
“Do you see anything?”
“No.”
“And do you hear anything?”
“Yes.” Donatello’s breath hitched.
“What do you hear?” Splinter asked carefully.
“M-my brothers’ voices. They’re... they’re calling me.” Splinter motioned them to start talking. Raphael swallowed.
“Don?” he tried.
“Donnie! Are you there?” Michelangelo called out.
“Yeah... yeah, I’m here!” Raphael smiled – finally Donatello’s voice coloured with interest. “Guys? Where are you?” Alarmed and having no idea what to answer, Raphael turned to Splinter but he only received a motion to go on.
“We’re... we’re...”
“We’re right here Donnie,” Michelangelo jumped to the rescue. Raphael sent him a relieved thumb-up, eliciting a smile from his brother.
“You... you sound like you’re in pain,” Donatello whispered, freezing their smiles. “Are you alright?” He seemed distressed, so Raphael wanted to comfort him.
“Don’t worry about us, we’re just-”
“No!” Raphael winced at the sudden shriek.
“Donnie?” he asked but was not heard.
“No! No!” Donatello didn’t move but his face contorted in absolute dread.
“Donnie!” Michelangelo cried out.
“No! Don’t! Don’t hurt them Bruder! Don’t hurt them! Noooo!” Donatello screamed.
Raphael called out his name and on a strong urge went to hug Donatello, to assure him he was there, but he was stopped by Splinter’s cane on his chest. His sensei stared at him strictly, boiling up helpless anger in him. Raphael turned back to Donatello, aching to hold him but unable to.
“Donnie...” Michelangelo whispered very softly. Donatello was gasping quietly, enveloped by a distinctive aura of lostness. After a few moments of silence, Splinter spoke up.
“Donatello, what has happened?” His voice was leveled very carefully. Almost too carefully. Raphael felt a jolt of pleasure that Splinter was affected by this... this torture too. If they were to rip Donatello apart and do the same to Raphael in the process by leaving him helpless, at least the rat feels what he’s doing to them.
“They...” Donatello’s words shook. “They’ve stopped screaming. They’re gone.”
“Gone as unconscious?” Splinter asked very gently.
“No. Gone as... for ever.” Donatello’s voice changed as he tried to mimic what he had been told. “Sie sind weg. Sie kommen nicht zurück.” Raphael turned away from the foreign language, his anger flaming up once again. Donatello’s voice was empty, so this is what the Bruder bastard did to Don! How dare he! Splinter’s cane hit him on the head forcefully and he realised he had started growling. With much effort he stopped, planning ways to hunt Bruder down and kill him for hurting his family. Splinter continued in a gentle and neutral voice.
“What is happening now?”
“I’m alone here. I don’t want to be here. I go back.” He took a breath and announced: “I’m back in my body.”
“Are you hurting?” asked Splinter with a hint of compassion not even he was able to hide.
“Yes... I’ve got a headache.” Raphael’s stomach twisted at the indifference for mental pain. It must have hurt Donatello so much that he wanted to push it out. So much for rejection, huh.
“Is it from the mind probe?”
“I think so.”
“What is happening now? Is Bruder talking?”
“Yes, he’s saying... Deine Brüder sind weg, nun ist auch deine Zeit angekommen. Nun stirbst du und ich werde dir helfen.” Donatello’s voice warped as he tried to copy the accent, but it couldn’t hide that he started pronouncing with much less care.
“Can you translate it?” asked Splinter with a breath of knowing. Raphael caught it and forced his fury aside to concentrate on what was to be said.
“Yes. Your brothers are gone... now your time has come. Now you die and I’ll help you.”
Raphael gasped and only Splinter’s hand covering his mouth prevented him from yelling “YOU BASTARD!!” He almost bit the hand, mad with fury. How dare he! How dare he!! No one who fucked up his brother so much is allowed to be alive! He needed to go and murder him, right now! The motherfucker!!
But Splinter’s hand was unrelenting and Michelangelo’d come to restrict Raphael as well. The mutant turtle grit his teeth, trying to rip away with all his might when Splinter hissed into his ear:
“Raphael! Control your anger! What you are doing now is hurting Donatello further, and you need to protect him!”
That worked wonders. Raphael instantly froze and evaluated the situation. If he were to wake Donatello up right now, all the effort would come to a waste and he’d leave Don even more scarred. That wasn’t good, he needed to calm down. Now!
He pushed Michelangelo and sensei off of him and motioned them to get back to work. Splinter nodded and kneeled facing Donatello again. Raphael tried to control himself with as much strength as he could muster, willing his breath to slow down and focusing solely at the task ahead. It worked well enough.
“Donatello, now the time stops. You see yourself like from afar,” said Splinter insistently to draw Donatello’s full attention. “What do you see?”
“I see myself kneeling. I’m panting for breath. I can’t breath in and I don’t want to breath in. Bruder is pressing his gun against my head from behind.” He stopped shortly to wonder. “I can’t tell if he’s fired. Is this because I’m dead?”
“No.” Raphael couldn’t help but admire the firmess of that statement. In this tone, Splinter just might have persuaded the Shredder that he was actually a good person. “You are still alive. You can do this because you have control over your mind. Is that clear?”
“Yes. Does that mean he hasn’t fired yet?” asked Donatello with a sliver of hope so small that it wrenched Raphael’s heart to admit he must have imagined it.
“He has not fired,” Splinter confirmed. “Now Donatello, as you see yourself, tell me if you see anything wrong.”
Donatello’s brows furrowed in thought. “Um... yes. I still have the mind probe on my head. There’s no reason to destroy such a valuable piece of equipment by shooting it,” he said confused.
Splinter nodded with barely visible satisfaction and knowing they were getting somewhere helped Raphael calm down even better. “What do you conclude from that?” asked Splinter, obviously wanting Donatello to figure it out himself.
“Either he doesn’t intend to shoot or... he doesn’t value that piece of technology at all.” In Donatello’s voice dissaproval was apparent, and Michelangelo patted Raphael’s shoulder and gave him a small happy smile as Donatello’s interest in living seemed to be coming back.
“Why would they not value it?” Splinter pushed on.
“It can’t be because they have more. Triceraton devices are so rare that they simply can’t have more. That means it must be... dysfunctional.” Donatello fell silent.
“Donatello, do you know any reason why the mind probe would be ‘dysfunctional’”? Splinter pronounced with special care but elicited only silence. “Donatello,” he said insistently. “Have you by any means gained any knowledge about this device?”
Donatello seemed to be trying very hard to remember something. Raphael sat quietly wholly engrossed in his brother’s memories for he too sensed that they might be the key for all this madness. Finatelly, Donatello spoke up.
“Polarität,” he mumbled. “Blöde Polarität...”
“What’s that?” asked Michelangelo, earning a swift hit from Splinter’s cane and a strong whack from Raphael’s hand. Luckily, Donatello didn’t seem to notice.
“Polarity... stupid polarity,” he repeated, trying to solve the puzzle.
“When did you learn about this... polarity?” Splinter asked, clearly struggling with the technical terms.
“While I was on the astral plane...” Donatello said in a low voice. “ I don’t know exactly but I think I heard him shouting... stupid polarity...”
“If this device had a wrong polarity... what would happen?” asked Splinter, doing his best to help.
“If the polarity was set wrong?... Then, probably the whole process would be reversed. Instead of downloading memories against one’s will, the mind probe would upload memories. But if it was unused and it had no memories to upload... then it would be possible to force one just any memory he can imagine.” Donatello’s breathing quickened. “Even a memory of my brothers being killed on the astral plane. Oh shell, it makes sense. Master Splinter didn’t answer me because my calling never reached him. And the memory of my brothers, it must have been fake!” Now while Raphael loved the plentiful of life in Donatello’s voice, he noticed that now there was a bit too much of it and Donatello’s was getting more upset than what was healthy. Raphael shifted uncomfortably and gave Splinter a worried look. “So, are they alright? Are my brother’s alright? I want to hear them!”
“Donatello!” Splinter interfered. “You must calm down at once. All will come in time. Now, your breathing becomes deeper and slower and your heartbeat slows down.” He waited until Donatello truly calmed down and then said: “You have realised something very important. Now come back to where you are. Where are you now?”
Donatello said nothing for a while. Raphael’s patience was wearing thin when he finally announced: “I’m in front of myself again. Nothing has changed.”
“Only now, do you think you are going to die?” Raphael and Michelangelo tensed up.
“I... don’t know. I don’t want to die but I can’t move,” Donatello said in obvious distress. Splinter looked at his students meaningfully. Raphael’s heart jumped with held back joy. Michelangelo’s eager expression spoke for itself.
“Now you come back to being one with yourself. You’re kneeling and the time starts running again.” Donatello’s face lit up.
“I hear footsteps. I hear... the swing of nunchaku. I...” he smiled, “the gun is no longer at my head.” Raphael heard Splinter’s relieved sigh and quietly, he heaved his own, only half-listening to Donatello’s now light voice. “Someone scoops me up. I think... I think, Mikey?”
“That’s me, Donnie-boy,” Michelangelo chirped happily, not caring if it got him another hit. Donatello carried on regardless.
“He’s feeling me. He asks if I’m okay.” He frowned. “I don’t answer.”
“You don’t have to,” said Splinter, failing at hiding his happiness.
“Well... He takes off the mind probe and cuts the wires on my wrists.” Donatello winced in relived pain. “It hurts...” Raphael grit his teeth, his desire to kill the Bruder guy renewed but also numbed greatly by knowing that Donatello was on his way back to them. He moved to get closer to him but was stopped again by Splinter’s hand. Raphael gave him a disapproving look to which Splinter replied by a stern one, and he mouthed: “Not yet.” Raphael fell back, dissatisfied although understanding what needed to be done.
“That is enough,” Splinter interrupted gently when Donatello got to falling asleep in the Battleshell. “Now it is time to come back to the present. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Donatello relaxed and seemed to be asleep.
“You slowly become aware of your surroundings...” Splinter chimed soothingly for a while. “...You are fully awake now. You are ready to open your eyes.”
Raphael held his breath back as he watched closely. Donatello’s eyes slowly fluttered open. His gaze locked on Splinter, then floated to his brothers. His face lit up with an understanding smile.
“Shell, it’s good to be alive,” he said warmly. Michelangelo laughed, Raphael and Donatello joined and crawled closer, hugging the shell out of each other. They trapped Splinter inbetween them and the rat cussed, saying he wasn’t built for such things, and backed away. Raphael and his brothers only laughed and went on claming never-ending love for each other (which Raphael displayed by giving Don a noogie and cursing him to a fish bowl for scaring him so much he thought he was going to grey even though he had no hair). Splinter chuckled quietly and spoke, promptly silencing them all.
“My sons,” he said with a glint of relief colouring his voice. “You have done very well. I must thank you for I could not have done it without your help.”
“Master Splinter, we thank you!” Michelangelo cried out, looking frankly dumbfounded. “It was so totally cool that hypnosis and all, we couldn’t do that for our lives.”
“Yeah if you hadn’t helped us out, Don’d still be lyin’ on the bed droolin’ all over his shell!” Raphael joined, more than delighted to poke fun at Donatello for a change.
“Ha ha, very funny,” said Donatello unamused. “Wait. Raph, what’s with the hands?”
Raphael realised Donatello had noticed his bandaged knuckles. “It’s nothin’!” he assured him quickly. “Just got in a lil’ fight... with a wall.” Donatello narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Have you been punching walls again? Did you even desinfect it?” Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. “Let’s go you hothead.”
Now as glad as Raphael was to have the normal Donatello back, this was overkill. He’d bruised his hands in fits of rage multiple times and Don never bugged him about it. Gee, the wounds from battling Bruder were worse and Donatello didn’t even notice them.
He still needed to kill that bastard.
But that could wait until Donatello was done with him.

Takže ta jedna věc, na kterou lze všechno svést, je polarita? Zpátky na fanfikce.