more Firelined propaganda, because I love them. as always, Firefight is owned by @remedyturtles
for the @tmntaucompetition
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Somehow, their teammates are stable. As far as Donnie can tell, this is pretty lucky, given the shape they were in. The other Leo still hasn't come out of his shell, though, eerily silent where he's cradled in the other Donnie's arms. He hasn't wanted to let go, even since they moved the both of them to a cot, and Donnie can't blame him.
There'd been some more running around, some more efforts to get them treated and comfortable, over the course of the last few hours. And now Donnie is pretty sure it's late (or he's experiencing some kind of interdimensional jetlag), and everyone but him is asleep. They'd found another cot and forced Leo, shaking and clearly low on energy reserves, into it; he'd fussed and insisted he wasn't tired, but the moment his head hit the pillow he was fast asleep. It was a little funny - the kind of thing they could chuckle about now, so many months into Leo's recovery. Raph had slumped against the wall and Mikey had climbed into his lap to nap there.
Donnie had promised them he'd join them soon enough. But so far he hasn't moved from his chair by their teammates' cot, typing away on his wrist tech and occasionally asking Shelldon to run some calculations for him.
At least, Donnie thought he was the only one awake, but the longer he sits there, the more he starts to feel the telltale prickle of someone watching him. His eyes rise from his screens and meet the gaze of the other Donnie, awake and observing him from the cot.
He lowers his wrist and gives a little wave of his fingers to the other Donnie. "Do you need more painkillers?" he asks quietly.
(He really needs a distinct designation for their counterparts. He remembers Leo floating the names "Leonother" and "Donatwollo" and shudders. For now, he decides to mentally refer to them as Donnie-β and Leo-β.)
Donnie-β shakes his head. His eyes float beyond Donnie, to where Leo is asleep in his cot. He points and makes a sign that Donnie assumes is his name sign for Leo-β (different from the name sign for his Leo, which is interesting), then waits to see if Donnie understands. At his nod, Donnie-β proceeds to sign, "Sleep, how?" as best as he can under the circumstances.
Donnie lets out a huff that's almost a laugh. "I'm guessing your Leo also suffers from insomnia?" Donnie-β nods. "As it turns out, chronic fatigue is a surprisingly effective cure." Donnie turns back and glances at Leo, sleeping away. "Usually, anyway..."
There are sometimes days Leo suffers from both, too tired to move but unable to sleep. He's always especially emotional on days like that, and Donnie knows he hates it, so he's glad Leo's brain is letting him sleep tonight.
When he looks back, Donnie-β has a complicated expression on his face that Donnie doesn't know how to begin to unpack. After several awkward seconds of silence, Donnie-β signs again, just, "How?" this time.
"How was he hurt?" Donnie clarifies, and Donnie-β nods again. "It was... the Dark Armor. Draxum put him inside." At the wide-eyed look of horror on Donnie-β's face, Donnie comes to the conclusion, "That didn't happen in your timeline, did it?"
Donnie-β shakes his head. It's not a surprise, at this point.
"It seems to be a unique event to our timeline, at least insofar as those assembled here are concerned," says Donnie, flipping through screens to bring up the research he's done on the alternate timelines here. "So far I know of one other timeline where Leo was put inside the armor, but their circumstances are substantially different from ours." He looks back at their teammates, taking in their substantial injuries, then asks, quietly, "This wasn't the Shredder, was it?"
Tired, Donnie-β shakes his head. Then, with a trembling hand, he fingerspells, "Krang."
"We've heard of them," Donnie tells him. "In other universes... Well, it seems like no one got off particularly easily."
It takes some fumbling from his position, but Donnie-β manages to sign, "Maybe not you," indicating the entire group when he does.
Donnie just shakes his head. "We aren't any more lucky than you guys," he says, which makes Donnie-β's mouth twitch in a motion that is at once humorous and grim.
Another few minutes of silence follows, during which Donnie goes back to looking at his screens, mostly to give Donnie-β the illusion of space. He can tell Donnie-β is thinking something over and trying to decide if he wants to bring it up (pretty weird to see that thought process play out on a mirror of his own face, actually), and he also knows it will be easier for him to come to a decision if he's not being stared at.
Finally, Donnie-β motions for his attention, and, once he has it, signs out, "Was it bad?" before indicating that he's talking about Leo. "Mentally, emotionally," he adds.
Donnie grimaces. Ah, no wonder he debated over saying anything... This isn't a topic Donnie is eager to discuss, either. But he has a feeling Donnie-β must have a reason for asking, so he's willing to talk. A little, anyway.
"Yes," he says. And then, because saying it all out loud is starting to feel dangerous, he turns off his wrist tech and switches to modified ASL (luckily, other than the name signs, Donnie-β's version has been close enough for him to follow so far). "It was bad."
Donnie-β looks at Leo, hesitancy written all over his expression. "Can you tell me?" he finally signs, with shaky hands, like he's not sure he wants to know about it but has to ask.
Donnie hesitates, too. Talking about his brother's mental health issues to other people without Leo's permission is a line he would not normally cross. Leo deserves to control who has that kind of information about him, and in what circumstances they're told. In this situation, he doesn't think Leo would mind, but still...
He decides on a compromise. "I can tell you how it was for me."
Perhaps Donnie-β understands the thought process that led here, because he nods and doesn't press for more.
Donnie takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. Thinking about that time, at the beginning of Leo's recovery, is stressful and comes with no small amount of shame. But he can do it, if it will help someone else with their own troubles.
"He was struggling," Donnie signs, because that much he knows is safe to tell, "and I didn't understand. I pushed too hard. I needed him to heal on my timeline. I wanted things to be normal. I wanted to go back to how it was before."
He chews on his lip, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I was scared. I felt like I was losing someone. I wanted my Leo," he uses his own name sign for Leo, then points to be sure Donnie-β knows who he means, "back. I wasn't ready to accept I wasn't getting him back."
Donnie-β's face seemed to drain of color, and he hugged Leo-β to his chest ever tighter. Donnie could only imagine what was going though his counterpart's head.
"Mikey," he fingerspells the name for Donnie-β's benefit, "said I was in mourning." He shrugs exaggeratedly - not because he doesn't believe Mikey, but because feelings have never been his area of expertise. "And that was okay. But I needed to love Leo where he is now."
He glances back at his brother, still sleeping soundly. He feels his heart swell when he does - that part, at least, had been easy.
"Leo is different now. And I love him." Donnie makes the sign for "love" extra exaggerated, to add as much emphasis as he can. "Who he is now. As much. More." He glances over his shoulder again and smiles at Leo.
Donnie-β listens. He puts his chin on Leo-β's shell, tapping out the same message to him again.
"...Scared," he rasps out loud, and his voice barely works; Donnie has to lean in to hear. But Donnie-β seems unwilling now to take his hands off Leo-β. "Of losing him for good."
Donnie's own stomach drops at the idea. He gives his head a firm shake, like that will banish it entirely, for both of them.
"You won't," he says. "You'll save him."
Donnie-β looks hauntingly unsure. "How do you know?" he whispers.
"Because you're Donatello Hamato," says Donnie fiercely, "and you can do anything."
Donnie-β doesn't smile, or laugh, or react in any way a Donnie might normally. Donnie supposes that Leo-β isn't the only one who's going to be different now.
But he nods, seriously, his hand keeping up the gently taps on Leo-β's shell.
"Wouldn't want... to give Donnies a bad name," he murmurs.
"That's right," says Donnie, a sigh in his voice. "And - not to sound like Raph here - but maybe you should start by getting some rest yourself."
Donnie-β lets out a noise that is close enough to an annoyed huff it makes Donnie smile.
"If anything happens-"
"We'll wake you. Don't worry."
A nod. Donnie-β's eyelids droop.
He's asleep soon, curled around Leo-β's shell even in slumber. Donnie makes sure the blankets are tucked firmly around both of them, then stretches.
"Shelldon, wake me if anything changes."
"Sure thing, dude."
Donnie looks at Raph and Mikey's mini-turtle pile, then turns back to Leo's cot. It's not really big enough for two, but without his battle shell Donnie is pretty sure he can make it work.
He tucks himself in behind Leo. Leo makes a soft noise in his sleep, turning over and curling into Donnie instinctively.
Donnie would never want anyone else for a Leo. He knows Donnie-β feels the same about Leo-β. And that's why Donnie can rest - believing, eventually, they would be okay.
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