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Exactly one week after they'd finally gotten the last of the alien viscera off the streets and things were all but back to the status quo, Donnie's efforts to recreate all the tech he'd lost amidst the chaos were interrupted by a knock on the door.
He really wanted to just ignore it. He was in the middle of something, and that was a good enough reason to pretend he didn't hear them on its own, but he also really, really didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment. The last few weeks had been spent almost constantly in the company of others-- which was not to say he wasn't grateful for it! On the contrary. Between all of the various ways in which his brothers (and, equally as important, Donnie himself) had nearly died, he was pretty okay with keeping them in his sight at all times. He had yet to add those backup trackers, after all. Direct observation was the best way to ensure they all stayed safe.
But then they'd finished the cleanup, and weeks of constant interaction and people in his space had reached a rather spectacular conclusion in the form of him jumping away from the casual arm Mikey threw around his shoulders like it had burned him. He’d left before any of them could say anything, and immediately barricaded himself behind a door that only he could unlock.
The reminder of why he'd sequestered himself away in his lab in the first place ached a little bit, and he gripped his soldering iron a little tighter. He hadn't actually hurt Mikey-- not physically, at least-- and he knew Mikey understood his frequent loathing for physical contact. All of them did. That understanding had not, however, stopped Mikey's split second pained reaction at the rejection, an expression which Donnie would pay real money to never have to see on his little brother's face again. Or any of their faces, for that matter.
The knock on his door sounded again, light but lingering, and Donnie could recognize Raph's careful movements. Which, alright. Fine. He didn’t want to hear Mikey’s apologies and he wasn’t going to be able to stand Leo’s smart mouth, but Raph… fine.
He opened the door remotely and Raph stepped inside, waiting until it closed behind him before walking over and taking a seat at an empty bench Donnie left clear specifically for when one of them waltzed into his lab so they wouldn’t sit down on any of his work. He positioned himself so the desk Donnie was sitting at stood between them, and the gesture was so small but so important and it made Donnie's hands stutter.
Like how Mikey never tried to push for hugs when Donnie made it clear he wasn't in the headspace for one. Or how all of Leo's casual teasing gestures were done with a half-second of hesitation to allow him to duck out of the way. Or Raph, even when their lives were at stake, taking the time to make it clear this isn't a hug, it's a rescue, and--
Donnie put his tools down. He could return the same consideration for their needs they always gave him.
What followed was… an admittedly awkward silence. Mostly because they were both just sitting there. Moments before Donnie could think of something to break it, Raph spoke first; "Mikey says sorry. He knows he should've asked first instead of just going for it."
"It's fine," Donnie said. "It wasn't his fault."
Because it wasn't. It was Donnie, and his weird aversion to completely normal things, like squishy things and hugs. His weird need for time alone lest he feel like there was crackling electricity crawling up his shell. All of his weird quirks that were no one's fault but that he had to live with anyway.
"Yeah, well," Raph said, and then didn't continue the thought. He didn't really need to. Donnie could hear the unspoken "he's sorry anyway" clear as day. "Do you have a second to talk?"
"We're talking right now."
"I mean, am I interrupting you? Noticed you put down your tools there. I can come back later if you're in the middle of something."
"No, it's alright." If it was gonna be one of those serious conversations, he'd prefer having something to do with his hands, but that wasn't really polite. Then he finished that thought and promptly remembered this was his brother, and he wouldn't care about what was polite or not. "Is it alright if I keep working while we talk? I promise you have my full attention."
"Of course. Do whatever you need to do."
So he picked up the tool again, adjusting his lenses ever so slightly and leaning close to make sure the seam he was working on was even.
"It's been a crazy couple of weeks, huh?"
"Mhm."
"We've been working pretty hard."
"Sure have."
"Haven't really had a chance to just sit down and talk about stuff."
"I suppose we haven't."
"Listen, Donnie, are you… okay? In general, I mean. You like to act like you don't have any feelings, and while I know it's true to some extent and you do feel stuff differently than us, I also know you're just as susceptible to stress as we are." Raph leaned forward, expression severe as he clasped his hands together. "What happened out there was rough. We all went through it. And no ‘ some of us had it worse than others’, I can see the gears turning in that thick head of yours."
Donnie, who had definitely not just been about to say that, closed his mouth with a sharp click. "Look who's calling who thick-headed."
"You’re not wrong, but that's not my point,” he said, tone dry. “My point is that nobody's trouble is worth more or less grief than anyone else's. Everyone’s got a different level of stuff they can tolerate. And I'm not asking how Leo or Mikey are handling things-- I'm asking about you, Donnie. Are you okay?"
…Was he?
Donnie liked to look at his emotions through a lens of reason. Which-- yes, he realized that kind of contradicted the nature of emotion in the first place (that nature being “completely inexplicable”), but it just made it all so much easier to bear when there was that filter of logic to keep himself from getting overwhelmed by the things he was feeling.
Anyway, that lens of reason dictated that in order to qualify as "okay," he needed to have more positive feelings and behaviors than negative ones for an extended period of time. He'd been doing fine on the feelings part as far as he knew-- yes, he'd been tense as a live wire since it all ended, but hadn't they all? For his part, it had been mostly overshadowed by his focus on repairing the city and all the thinking that entailed. So he was considering himself “alright” emotionally.
In terms of behaviors… less alright. He always tended to get fixated on whatever project he was tackling at any given time, but it had been a little more severe than usual lately. Practically throwing himself into his work, losing himself and losing half the day before he even noticed the time had passed. His periods of intense focus never went on for this long without pause. When was the last time he’d gotten a full night's sleep? He wasn't sure. He always woke up at some odd hour, clammy and sweaty and needing to make himself busy for fear of tumbling head first into an endless feedback loop of recollections and what-ifs.
What if he hadn't been able to connect with the ship? What if Raph hadn't broken out of the hold over him? What if Mikey hadn't been able to open the portal? What if Leo had died? Over and over until he could hardly breathe with the weight of considering how perfectly everything had aligned and how much it could've all fallen apart if even one event went slightly different, and he needed to think about something else now or else he was going to break the tool he was holding. (He set it down for good measure. They were in no position to be replacing things like that right now.)
…But his emotions were pretty much fine.
So, with his conclusion drawn, he looked over to Raph (who had been waiting very patiently, even though Donnie's entire mental dialogue had probably taken way longer than he'd meant it to) and answered his question; "I don't know."
And instead of looking skeptical or demanding clarification (How can you not know if you're okay or not? It's a simple question, yes or no), Raph just nodded in understanding. "Okay," he said. "Can I do anything to help?"
"I don't know," he repeated, equally as honest.
“Well, let’s try and break it down, alright?” At his nodded agreement, Raph continued. “First up, I know it’s been a while since you last ate, ‘cause you haven’t been sitting down for meals with us and your trash can is still empty. So why don’t you grab one of those protein bars you keep in here and a bottle of water to wash it down.”
That was a good suggestion. Reasonable. Logical. Left no room for argument. That was something he liked about Raph’s style of leadership-- he’d always had a tendency to freeze up when he got stressed, but when he did come up with a plan you could bet your scutes he’d covered every base, and the way he put them forward brought about an expectation to be listened to. Meanwhile Leo’s “plans” tended to be more along the lines of strong suggestions and vague guidelines that invited debate if someone thought they could do better.
He would give Leo credit for his confidence. Assuredness in one’s decisions and actions was an important trait in a leader. But Raph still won the battle of sheer and undeniable presence. When Raph gave an order, it was to be followed.
So Donnie got up and trudged over to the cabinet where he kept all the edible things away from any potential contaminants. The stock of protein bars and water bottles he kept had been discovered years ago. Pizza was great, and he could eat it for every meal if given the option, but it was messy and sometimes they made it wrong and the combination of textures was so much of a nightmare that he felt like he'd be sick if he even had to look at it. The bars were uniform all the way through, bland and dense, and perfect for those times Donnie got way too focused on a project and forgot to eat for several days.
Raph was still waiting patiently when he returned, and kindly kept his mouth shut when Donnie tucked himself up against his side on the bench instead of returning to his desk. He moved his arm over the back to give Donnie space to sit, but kept the heavy weight of it well away from him.
"Now that you've got some food in you, let's keep going. How long has it been since you slept?" Donnie's expression must've been answer enough, because Raph just gave him a grim look. "Alright. Is there some reason you haven't? Or did you just forget to?"
"Sort of both," Donnie answered, as truthful as he'd been since they'd started their conversation. Now was not the time for posturing. They were only just coming out of the "panic mode" phase of nearly dying and/or losing each other. And while Donnie had a certain image of unflappability to keep up with, lying about his status now would do none of them any favors. "I mostly forgot. But I'm also a tad bit worried about… the possibility of adverse memories of the whole incident. Recurring. And affecting the quality of my sleep.”
“Nightmares,” Raph translated.
“Yes. Sometimes it’s…” His expression turned pinched and narrow as he tried to put his thoughts into words. Most people probably couldn’t recognize that sleeping would equal nightmares just by thinking about it for a minute. “I can just
tell
that if I go to sleep, I’ll end up having them.”
“So you don’t even bother?”
“It seems counterproductive to try. There isn’t much point in wasting the time and making myself upset if I know I won’t be well-rested anyway. I’d rather just stay up so I can get work done.”
Raph had been frowning since he’d arrived, but it deepened further at that. “That’s not really a healthy mindset. Or a good work ethic. Don’t you think you might be more prone to making mistakes? Or hurting yourself? You might be a genius, Don, but you’re not invincible.”
“Neither are you.”
Silence.
“Ah,” Raph said, full of understanding, as though those three words had given him the final hint he needed to finish deciphering Donnie’s psyche. “Still thinking about that, huh?”
“It’s.. only sort of about that incident. You’ve always been prone to throwing yourself in harm’s way, particularly for everyone’s sake but your own. I should have expected you’d prioritize someone else over yourself. I should have built an extra escape pod for you.” The empty water bottle crunched in his hands as he clenched them into fists. Mostly involuntarily. “I know what you’re like. You always choose us. I had all the data, and I should have known. I should have been better prepared. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have been--”
“Hey, hey. Easy,” Raph cut him off cleanly with quiet words and a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Don.”
“I know that. It’s not my job to fix every problem, you are wholly responsible for your own decisions, etcetera etcetera. But I’m supposed to be able to account for that.” The water battle was nearly unrecognizable at this point, more a mess of twisted plastic than anything functional. He tossed it off in the vague direction of the trash. Future Donnie’s problem. “That’s what I do. I make plans with the expectation that one of you will do something to disrupt them, and then I plan around that. It shouldn’t have happened, and I should’ve been able to stop it. But I didn’t. I didn’t think. And look where it got you.”
Raph looked over at him, the harsh laboratory lighting putting the jagged scar cutting across his eye in stark clarity. He was maskless-- fixing the tear had been the last thing on any of their priority lists, and given that none of them were about to do any actual ninja-ing for the foreseeable future, it had taken up a pretty permanent residence on Raph’s desk.
Donnie was torn between wishing he was wearing it and being endlessly grateful he wasn’t. He wished he didn’t have to look at the glaring reminder of his failure to account for his brother’s unpredictability in the form of fresh scar tissue, but at the same time he was glad for its obviousness. Raph could hardly pretend like nothing had happened or act like he was completely unaffected with such an obvious indicator of the reverse on his face.
(His own mask was still firmly on. Aside from the comfort the familiar fabric offered, he needed the darn thing to see. After one too many pairs of glasses had wound up in pieces, he'd simply modified the mask to provide the same function. And so Leo would stop making fun of him. But mostly it was just more practical.)
With a hand that he'd never admit was trembling slightly, he reached up to lightly trace the scar tissue. Raph held still and allowed him his examination.
There was a reason Leo was the de facto medical guy, and it wasn't for any lack of knowledge on Donnie's part. He was a genius, that was true, and had read every book he could find on the subject of health and medicine. But in practice, it was all just so… gross. Sticky fluids that stained everything, all organic inconsistency, soft and squishy and terrible. So far from the clean precision of technology. The idea of having to perform any kind of procedure sent a shiver up his shell.
But this one.
This one had been on Donnie.
Because their medical guy was equally (if not more) in need of care at the time, and Mikey’s hands were shaking too badly from the recoil of whatever mystic nonsense he’d managed, and Raph couldn’t very well fix his own eye. Dad and April and their newest acquisition in the form of Casey were all focused on Leo. With good reason-- he’d definitely taken the worst beating out of all of them-- but it meant they weren’t able to help.
So it had fallen to Donnie, arguably the least injured of them, to help their older brother.
His hands had shaken the entire time. He’d been halfway worried he’d end up poking Raph’s eye out and making it worse. Raph had sat frozen, very carefully not mentioning his anxiety or the few times Donnie poked the injury a little too hard. He’d eventually finished bandaging it up, then promptly gone to dry heave in the corner for a minute or two.
It healed fine. As well as could be expected. But it had still been bad enough that regardless of the job Donnie had done in patching him up, it had left a very noticeable scar.
“I’m okay, Donnie,” he said softly. “I promise.”
“And if you do this sort of thing again? You might not be.” He hunched his shoulders, and after a moment’s hesitation where Donnie could easily move away, Raph set an arm around him. Donnie gladly leaned into it.
All of his family’s hugs were a little bit different, but Donnie valued each and every one of them, at least when physical contact was welcome as opposed to making him want to crawl out of his shell. Mikey hugged like fireworks-- bright and quick, tight enough to leave scratches on his plastron, he hugged with all the strength hidden in his diminutive frame. Leo’s were casual, an arm thrown around his shoulder, usually paired with knuckles rubbing over the top of his head or a teasing punch to his arm, wholly welcoming even if he and Donnie had just gotten into a fight hours prior. April’s were a mix of both; she threw herself into hugs with everything she had, and finished them off with an affectionate noogie, and Donnie never once had to wonder if they were really friends.
And Raph? A hug from Raph was like a weighted comforter on the world’s softest bed, cozy and warm and secure. Raph’s hugs were a shield against anything that might possibly wish Donnie harm, even his own negative thoughts. They were like a cup of coffee in the midst of winter, like a suit of armor made from pure titanium, and a thousand other metaphors wouldn't be enough to express how invulnerable Donnie felt with him.
"I'm not going anywhere," Raph said, voice just as low as before, a fact and a promise all at once.
"You can't know that for sure. None of us can. Anything could happen at any time." He was sure there was some law about that in some field or another. (Murphy's Law? No, wait, that was the law that said anything that could go wrong would. Which… was also not inapplicable.) “Anything could happen and I don’t know how to handle that. I can’t prepare for every potential threat.”
“Don, the only one asking you to do that is you.” Raph moved forward to rest his head on top of Donnie’s. The change in position shifted his arms so they reached a little further around him, and it had the added effect of blocking out their surroundings completely. The lights in the lab were specially designed to be bright enough to see perfectly clearly without giving him a headache, but even they could be a bit much when he was feeling overwhelmed, and the complete enclosure Raph offered helped ease a little more of the tension that was still clinging to him after the mess that had been their lives as of late. “You don’t have to be prepared for everything. Sometimes stuff happens, and even the smartest person in the world couldn’t see it coming.”
“I am the smartest person in the world,” Donnie muttered, but it was lost somewhere in Raph’s plastron. Probably for the best, anyway.
“And when that stuff does eventually happen, it’ll be okay. ‘Cause you won’t have to face it by yourself.” Raph leaned down to bump their foreheads together. “We’re here for you, Don. You are not alone. Remember?”
After everything that had happened recently, the whole mess with Shredder felt like a lifetime ago. The reminder of their family’s mantra grounded him in a way he didn’t think he’d manage to achieve without a whole lot more time passing. With Raph’s arms heavy around him, the ambient hum of machinery in the background, and-- just barely audible behind the soundproof doors of his lab-- the quiet murmuring of their other two brothers nearby, Donnie felt the anxiety gripping his chest like a vice begin to ease.
“I remember,” he said quietly. “And I know. I’ll be okay.”
“You’ll be okay,” Raph affirmed, leaning back just enough to bump an affectionate fist against Donnie’s chest. “And so will I.”